My husband and I are at a family-themed resort in Orlando, finishing breakfast with our two children. He takes them to get more food while I sip my coffee. Almost immediately, a man appears.

Man: “Is this seat taken?”

He gestures to the seat my husband occupied not two minutes ago. I look around and see several empty tables.

Me: “There are open seats everywhere else.”

He sits down.

Man: “So, what’s your name?”

Me: “That’s my husband’s seat.”

Man: “I’m [Man].”

Me: “Please leave.”

Man: “How long are you—”

Me: *As loudly as I can* “LEAVE!”

The man nearly falls out of the chair. Several people around us have stopped eating and are now watching.

Man: “I’m just—”

Me: “Leave.”

Man: “No, I—”

Another man chimes in.

Man #2: “Hey, dude, you should leave her alone.”

Man: “I’m trying to be nice! She was sitting alone!”

Me: “I’m not alone.”

I point at my husband and children, now watching the show. My husband smiles and waves.

Man: “F****** b****.”

Man #2: *Standing up* “Look, you can’t talk like that. There are kids.”

[Man] makes a hasty retreat, though not into the resort. Instead, he walks out across the parking lot and leaves completely. My family sits down.

Husband: *Grinning* “Making friends?”

Me: “As always.”

We spoke with the front desk after breakfast. Apparently, the man lives nearby and often comes over to help himself to free food and harass women. They told us he is banned from the property but unless they call the police — which they don’t want to do because it would tarnish the resort’s reputation — they can’t do anything except keep an eye on him.

My husband and I were at Disney World right before the global health crisis hit. We’re strictly kosher. I did my homework and found out that there was one quick-service restaurant in every park where kosher food was available, BUT it was frozen and took time to rewarm.

Disney World between December 21st and 28th is just the teeniest bit busy, so when the staff told us there would be a bit of a delay, we took it in stride. Whatever. We were on vacation. Wait times for the rides were a bit longer than we were used to, but that was okay with us — us Toronto hicks with our cute little amusement park just outside the city limits.

We were off to one side, happily waiting for our food. And after about half an hour, one of the crew members came up to us.

Crew Member: “You know, you’ve been waiting too long. I’m comping this.”

It was totally unexpected. I don’t think we even asked at any point, “How much longer?” It was our third day, and we’d pretty much accepted that this was going to be our normal. That was a really nice perk that was completely unanticipated and obtained without fuss or causing a scene.

I attended a private Catholic high school many years ago. Most in my area required a specific, monogrammed uniform that was sold at a specific store. You could not buy them elsewhere, and the administration loved giving you detention if you wore khakis that did not have their acronym on them. Their sizing was horrible, so this happened very often. The pants had to fit a specific way as well: both baggy and skin-tight ones were not allowed.

I ended up working at this store one summer a year after graduation, and since I had personal experience with how awful those uniforms were, it was my designated area every shift. One interaction has stayed a fresh memory for ten years.

This student is an incoming freshman. Her mother is with her in crisp business attire with a Bluetooth piece in her ear and not much patience for her teenager’s attitude. She is not talkative but does pay attention when I show them the uniform options and the school’s policy.

I help the girl find three sizes likely to fit and explain that the size on the label might say five, but it really is a size two. She takes them in to try them on, and I tidy up the area while I wait for her to decide so I can pull more of the size she needs, all while she is complaining about how awful they fit her and how they don’t show off her legs at all. I check the fit with her mother, and off I go to pull the correct pairs when I hear this gem.

Mom: “You’re going there to learn, not to get a dollar in your underwear. Enough.”

I did not hear another word from her outside of yes or no until they left. She was pretty embarrassed by her mom’s admonition, but knowing how that school was, the admin’s dressing down would have been worse. I don’t miss that store and I especially don’t miss how many kids would leave in tears for how poorly those pants fit, especially on anyone not under a size seven or anyone tall.

I work at a coffee shop at an international airport in Florida. There is a Chinese woman who serves as some sort of monk liaison, and she comes into the store bi-monthly; monks like caramel Frappuccino, FYI.

Every time she comes in, she orders an iced coffee with cream and sugar. After she pays, she goes to the pick-up counter, waits for the barista to hand off her drink, and demands that they add whip cream and caramel, which are add-ons and cost extra. It is a small thing, the whip and caramel, but it costs us money which causes our loss prevention officer to think we are stealing in a big-picture sense. It is a licensed store, so there is none of that free beverage stuff that other stores can get away with.

Once you have given someone who knows better something for free without any perceivable gratitude, a seed of resentment is planted. We all have resentment blooming in our bellies for this lady. Finally, one day, one of my baristas loses her cool a little and tells the woman:

Barista: “We all remember you when you come in, you know. I know you know that this is not free, and this is the last time that we are doing this for you without charging you.”

When the words come out of her mouth, I am slightly proud but cringe because I know what is going to happen next.

Customer: “I want to speak to the manager.”

That’s me!

She starts screaming at me because my barista “yelled” at her.

Me: “I’m sorry you feel mistreated; however, I was standing next to the barista and she didn’t raise her voice.”

Customer: *Starts screaming at me* “It is not nice to be yelled at! She yelled at me and that is rude! It is very rude to yell at people!”

As everyone within a thirty-foot radius stares at us, mouths agape, I respond the only way I can.

Me: “Yes, it is very rude to yell at people. Very, very rude to yell at people. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

This was a few months ago. She came in and asked for an iced coffee a couple of days ago. I opted to make it for her his time. When I was through, I handed it to her and she started to ask for something, but I looked her in her eyes with an unflinching gaze. She stopped, took her drink, and sat down.

While this woman is a total pain, I still don’t mind too much because waiting on monks is pretty cool.

A couple of stressed middle-aged customers come into our restaurant.

Customer: “Um, can we be sat somewhere quiet, away from kids?”

Me: “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

I look at the hordes of excited children dancing around famous characters.

Me: “Sir, this is Disney World.”