I’m a bartender at a little hole-in-the-wall watering hole with a very regular and very loyal customer base. I have a night off, so I meet up with a friend at another bar for a few drinks and some food. After supper, we decide to walk to the bar where I work to cap off the evening.

We get there and there is a good energy going on. The music is a bit louder than usual, and there are maybe ten patrons in the bar.

We have one customer who is extremely wealthy, and it’s nothing for him to spend $200 to $400 per night multiple times a week buying everyone rounds. As such, he’s treated like royalty around there.

I’m sitting there having a really good time, enjoying a beer, and I decide that I want to add a song to the jukebox. I grab a $5 bill and walk over, only to notice sixty-three credits showing on the screen. No big deal, I think. I’ll just put my $5 in, request a few songs, and leave the sixty-three credits untouched.

But noooo.

Our wealthy regular sees me perusing the jukebox and comes up and physically pushes me away from it. I ask him what the f*** he thinks he’s doing. He says those are his credits, and no one is allowed to touch the jukebox until he’s used them up. I point out that I have my own $5 and no intention of using any of his credits.

Nope, not good enough. No one is allowed to touch it until he’s done with them.

I know it’s not worth arguing, so I step back, and he starts requesting songs until he has used up every single credit. Each song costs two to five credits, so he puts in a lot of songs. Each song gives you the option to pay an extra two credits to have your song played next, but I notice he isn’t using it.

This particular brand of jukebox has an accompanying phone app. I didn’t have it downloaded prior to this night. But I do now.

I calmly sit down at my table with my friend and put my plan in motion. I download the app and purchase $10 worth of credits. I request two songs and pay the extra two credits to fast track them. I sit there in quiet anticipation, and I can see that the regular is starting to get into a groove with the music he’d requested — Vietnam rock.

His heart gloriously sinks when Bom Bom Bom by Sam and The Womp comes on. No big deal, guys, his song must be next. Nope, it’s Wannabe by The Spice Girls.

He sits down, dejected. I quickly purchase another $20 in credits and request Baby by Justin Bieber, Livin’ La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin, Axel F by Crazy Frog, and Foil by Weird Al Yankovic.

And I fast track every one of them.

Partway through Foil, I notice the regular sulking in his chair… so I purchase another $20 in credits and proceed to request Never Going To Give You Up by Rick Astley, Who Let The Dogs Out (Barking Mad Remix) by the Baha Men, Numa Numa by O-Zone, Pas Parle Americano by Yolanda Be Cool, and Star Wars Cantina March by John Williams.

They’re starting to realize something is up, so the regular and a few staff who were on last night convene at the jukebox to try to figure it out. At this point, the Cantina March is playing. They turn the jukebox off and then back on again. “Doop doop doop doop…” They turn it off and then back on. “Doop doop doop doop…” Each time, it picks up where it left off. I can’t hold my laughter.

One of my coworkers catches on and comes over with her phone in her hand with the app open. She shoves it in my face with a “How f****** dare you…” Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I quietly get up, down my last mouthful of beer, put my jacket on, and walk out without a word. I walk down the street to a greasy spoon that our staff and customers are regulars at due to proximity. I sit down, order a beer and a burger, and proceed to log back into the app.

I purchase another $10 worth of credits and fast track All I Want For Christmas by Mariah Carey and Mickey by Tony Basil as one last “bite me” to the regular.

I can only imagine the fallout I’m going to face Monday afternoon when I show up to work, but whatever. My $40 are no less valid than his, and no one customer gets to commandeer the tunes for the entire night and physically block anyone else from touching it.

One day, I am getting ready for work when I realized it’s my grumpy store manager’s birthday. She comes in with her usual scowl, but I smile sweetly at her.

Store Manager: “Yes, [My Name]?”

Me: “Happy birthday! Anything fun planned?”

Store Manager: *Surprised* “Oh. Um, thank you. That’s… very kind. How did you know?”

Me: “You told me last year. Remember?”

Store Manager: “Right. Uh, no fun plans. Just work.”

She leaves.

Coworker: “She told you it was her birthday?”

Me: “I don’t actually know how I know that.”

Coworker: “Then what made you remember it’s today?”

Me: “She shares a birthday with Hitler.”

In the shop near my home, there are a few debit-only registers where you can’t pay with cash, generally used when it’s busy, since it’s easier to open an extra one. These are clearly marked. They have signs everywhere, stickers on the floor, and the dividers and even the belt are all bright blue and white with signs saying, “DEBIT ONLY.” Even then, the cashier always asks, “Are you paying by debit?”

But we all know that for some people this isn’t enough.

My mom and I happen to shop together, getting some cake and drinks. We enter the “Debit Only” line and wait our turn. We notice that the woman in front of us is having a debate with the cashier and it’s heating up. It’s obvious the woman wanted to pay cash but went to the wrong register.

My grandmother on my mother’s side had a great way to deal with this sort of thing, and we silently decide to honour her memory. We start talking to each other in a tone that’s a little louder than usual.

Mom: “Well, she does know the language, so that rules out that she didn’t understand.”

Me: “But illiteracy is higher than one might expect and on the rise, so perhaps she couldn’t read all the signs or the belt.”

Mom: “That is a possibility.”

The cashier notices us and smiles a little. This alerts the woman and makes her throw an even bigger fit. 

Me: “But why wouldn’t she hear the cashier ask? Is she perhaps deaf, as well?”

Mom: “No, because she clearly understood the cashier explaining just now.”

Me: “Well, that leaves another possibility, but we haven’t ruled out illiteracy yet.”

Now the woman knows we are talking about her and turns her attention towards us. 

Woman: “I’m not deaf.”

Mom: “Then perhaps you can’t read.”

Woman: *Fuming now* “I can read!”

Me: “Then perhaps hard of sight, since you didn’t see?” *Points to all the signs in general* 

We can actually see her starting to feel embarrassed so my mom takes it easy.

Mom: “If you don’t have any excuse not to be able to see, read, or understand all the signs, then perhaps you shouldn’t take it out on the cashier who is just doing her job. Just pay your stuff with debit, or let the cashier do what she offered and take your receipt to another register to pay there.”

The woman nodded meekly and paid by card.

When she was younger, my little sister was… a brat. She had to have the best clothes and the best things in life, and she was always chatting with her friends on her mobile. One morning, my mum got a text message from my sister… who was in her bedroom, three rooms away, asking for her to make her some breakfast. My mother took a breath.

Mother: *Texting* “Okay, what do you want?”

My sister responded that she wanted an egg and bacon with a muffin. My mother’s own “McMuffins” were a Sunday special in our house. So, my mother complied. She got a plate, place an unopened egg, a cold piece of bacon, and a muffin on it, walked it to my sister’s room, and placed it in front of her.

Sister: “You didn’t cook it”

Mother: “You didn’t specify!”

And she left the room. My sister never asked my mother for breakfast through a text ever again.

I’m not someone who adapts very well to changes. I get upset if a site I regularly use changes its design after five years of having it one certain way, and if I find a style I like, I will stay with it until I personally get tired of it. I’m not someone who follows “trends” at all and never have been, even in my teens.

With that said, I find myself having to shop for my clothes online since most of the popular clothing boutiques and stores don’t carry the kinds of clothes that I like.

I am casually shopping for groceries and a security guard stops me near the door.

Security Guard: “Sorry to bother you, but I just had to say, I love those jeans. It’s a real blast from the past! I haven’t seen that in almost twenty years! They used to be really popular with college kids back in 2004, 2005!”

A couple of days later, I am getting a haircut in a salon, and someone passes by.

Stranger: “D***, 2000 is back!”

They start singing a popular Backstreet Boys song.

Needless to say, I quite soon find myself in a clothing store, and when I am asked if I am looking for anything in particular:

Me: “Just updating my wardrobe before I start turning into my parents!”