(I am eight and at a work event with my mom. It is important to note that one of my mother’s coworkers and her kids are black.)
Me: “Mom, look! The Brown kids are here!”
Mom: “[My Name]!”
Me: “What? That’s their last name, right?”
Mom: “Oh. Yes it is.”
(I have just been hired to go to events where there are a lot of people, and advertise our company. My boss is in her 20s, and shows up wearing yoga pants, Uggs, a thin shirt threatening to burst, and a lot of tacky jewelry. Meanwhile, I’m dressed in the uniform. I decide to shrug it off — after all, she is the boss — and start my job.)
Me: *to event goers* “Hello! Would you like to try some of our food?!”
(I’m yelling because the convention is very noisy.)
Boss: *gasps* “Oh, my God! Are you shy?!“
Me: “Um, what?”
Boss: “You have to do it like this!”
(She walks up directly to a male event-goer.)
Boss: “HELLO! COME TRY OUR FOOD!”
(Everybody looks around.)
Event-Goer: “I, uh, no thanks.” *tries to step around her*
Boss: *blocking his way with her body* “COME ON! IT’S FREE!”
(I see the man shaking his head no, but my boss refuses to let him through; he’d have to push her. It’s a cringeworthy scene. Reluctantly, he comes over and scoots away once he takes some food like he’s afraid of catching a plague.)
Boss: “And that’s how you do it!”
Me: “Making people looking for a good time uncomfortable? Sorry, I don’t think this job is for me.”
Boss: “Yeah, you’re too shy.”
(I think the word she was looking for was “polite,” but whatever.)
(I am volunteering as a parking and security attendant for an event. One of the parking and security coordinators has the first name Kirk, and the other is a 6’5” redhead. Thus, their call-signs on radio are “Captain Kirk” and “Big Red.” I’m having a conversation with a patron about where to park their car. Apparently, I have knocked my radio’s volume control, and it is now up full-blast. So, in the middle of the conversation, my radio goes off very loudly.)
Radio: “Captain Kirk to Big Red!”
Radio: “This is Big Red.”
Radio: “I’ve got a situation. Meet me at the east entrance port-a-potties.”
Radio: “Copy that, Captain Kirk.”
(The visitor looked at me for a moment, before just bursting out laughing.)
(I’m at a very popular local event known for its obnoxious drunk patrons. I’ve already dealt with a few uncomfortable situations, so I’ve decided to keep my phone out to record any altercations. I’m standing in line for some food and I feel someone slap my butt, and I hear some very crude remarks and laughter.)
Me: *turning around* “I’m letting you know right now that this is being recorded and… Uncle [Uncle]?”
Uncle: *going pale* “Oh, my God, [My Name]? You, uh, think you could just do me a favor and delete that video?”
Me: “No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think my father would be very interested in this. See you at Thanksgiving.”
(I did show my family. My uncle and his wife were furious and won’t speak to me now. They didn’t show up for Thanksgiving.)
(We run a business that supplies weapons, clothing, and armour for Live Action Role Play [LARP] and re-enactment. We often set up and sell directly to customers at games, as well as participating in the combat ourselves.)
Me: “So, you want the full set of plate armour? That’ll be [price].”
Customer: “Great. I can’t wait!”
Me: “Do you have a gambeson?”
Customer: “What’s that?”
Me: “It’s a type of padded jacket you need to wear underneath most armours. It’s great for protecting your real-world squishy meat sack from the physical force of the blows, and—”
Customer: “Nah, it’s fine. They’re just toy swords. How much damage can they do?”
Me: “Again, it’s full, steel-plate armour, and without a gambeson to pad it, a lot of the force on it is transferred straight to your body. I suppose if you have, like, a puffy winter jacket—”
Customer: “Listen. Stop trying to upsell me, all right?! I’ve been doing this stuff for years! Just… the d***… armour.”
Me: “All right. It’s your call, mate.”
(I processed the sale, and then assisted him into the armour, as it’s very difficult to achieve alone, and the customer had no friends to help. An hour after that, full combat started, and I could see this guy running down the field at full tilt. A minute later, a Code Red was called for a serious injury that required the medical officer. The customer had fallen over and cracked a rib inside his own armour, because there was no padding.)
