I don’t really drink alcohol. I’m ethnically Asian and have that one gene that means you can’t process alcohol right; a few sips mean my heart rate goes out of control, and I get this awful splotchy flush to my skin. (I’m also a woman, which is unfortunately relevant to this story.)

All of my family and close friends are very understanding and super nice about it. I get some gentle ribbing about not drinking, but it’s always in good fun, and I’ve never felt pressured or bothered by it.

And then there was [Boyfriend].

[Boyfriend] wasn’t MY boyfriend, but was dating one of my close friends for around eight months. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the idea of NOT drinking when we were hanging out, and he couldn’t understand the idea that anyone would willingly NOT drink.

I tried to explain it the first few times, but he kept asking the same questions at every subsequent hangout.

Eventually, I’d just started responding, “I just don’t like alcohol. Anyway,” and then changing the subject. He was nice enough otherwise, so I figured no harm, no foul, just a clash in how we view things. Yes, I realize this is a little dumb in retrospect, but my friend also liked him enough that I didn’t want to rock the boat.

Then came my friend’s birthday. (Calling her “Birthday Friend” for simplicity purposes.)

She invited [Boyfriend] (they were the ones dating), and the plan was to go hang out at this little gamer bar. There were some arcade machines and pinball, and it was generally a chill place to hang out. They also made some great virgin cocktails, which meant I wouldn’t feel like I was sticking out like a sore thumb while everyone else had a few drinks.

Of course, that wasn’t really enough, because [Boyfriend] started pestering me again about drinking. It was fine (if annoying) at first, just the same old repeated questions, but the more he drank, the ruder he started getting, even when other people told him to cut it out.

He even started poking me repeatedly, physically poking me, never very hard but enough that it was legitimately uncomfortable, when I gave my usual “oh, I just don’t like it” and continuing to whine about it and generally get VERY uncomfortably into my personal space. I told him firmly to please just stop, we were here to celebrate [Birthday Friend]’s birthday, and my drinking habits just straight-up didn’t matter because– again, it was HIS GIRLFRIEND’S special day– but it seemed like he just got more persistent.

At this point, several people there, [Birthday Friend] included, were starting to raise their voices, telling him to knock it off. I distinctly remember [Birthday Friend] raising her voice in the kind of ‘We’re about to have a very firm discussion about this when we get home” tone at him. He did stop when they spoke up, but was visibly kind of sulky about it. I traded seats with a different friend, and that helped it for a while.

Then everyone wanted another round of drinks. I’d finished my Shirley Temple, too, so I decided to get another one. [Boyfriend] offered to grab the drinks for everyone, so we thanked him and thought nothing of it. I even stupidly assumed that it was his way of saying ‘sorry’ without actually saying it.

He passed out the drinks, and we all did a little clink to celebrate my friend’s birthday again. I took a sip… and IMMEDIATELY gagged and spit it out all over myself.

As most people probably figured out, [Boyfriend], when getting the next round of drinks, ordered me a DIRTY version of a Shirley Temple and just… I don’t know, fully expected me to not notice?

Of course, my friends obviously immediately noticed that. One of my other friends took me to the bathroom to help dry me off, while the rest of the group stayed to berate him.

I missed this next part, but from what I’m told, [Birthday Friend] was immediately appalled that he’d do that, and told him so quite loudly. [Boyfriend] proceeded to practically start yelling and apparently call me a “picky b***h” and that “clearly she’s never had any GOOD drinks”, and other such stupid s**t that they refused to tell me.

The party was immediately over once I came out of the bathroom, which I felt super awful about, but [Birthday Friend] is the sweetest person ever and reassured me that it wasn’t my fault. I still bought her a case of her favorite beer to make up for it, the next chance I had to go to the grocery store.

We all went home, sans [Boyfriend]; unsurprisingly, [Birthday Friend] dumped [Boyfriend] immediately after his outburst. Turns out she’d already been getting slightly annoyed with him, with him being unable to compromise or consider other perspectives or views on various subjects, and him basically trying to sneak me alcohol was the last straw.

That entire group and I are still really good friends, and [Birthday Friend] continues to be wonderful to this day. I have no clue what [Boyfriend] is up to and frankly don’t care.

I’m a cashier at a department store. I’m also a college student, so I’m just working there to help pay for expenses. I’ve been working there for about a month at this point. Relevant to the story is that I am the only person in my (very busy) section and am not supposed to leave my register unattended when I have customers.

Enter the customer. It seems like a normal transaction until I can’t scan one of her items.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, it looks like you picked one without a barcode. Do you know where it is in the store, and could you grab one that does have a barcode so I can get you rung up?”

Customer: “What?! Are you seriously asking me to go get a different item?”

Me: “Uh… Yes, ma’am. I can’t sell you this without a barcode—”

Customer: “Then why can’t you go get it?”

Me: *Thinking.* “Because I don’t know where the h*** it came from?” *Out loud.* “I’m not supposed to leave my register unattended, ma’am.”

Customer: *Huffs.* “And that’s my problem?”

Soooooo… I walked halfway across the store, found the item, brought it back, rung her up, and then she decided to give me a parting shot. She was clearly happy with herself.

Customer: “Thank you for your patience!”

We are visiting relatives in a group that includes my six-year-old nephew, who is a smallish kid compared to his classmates.

My great aunt takes us all, a group of twelve, to a restaurant where they are advertising a free kid’s meal with the purchase of an adult meal. We order, including a kid’s size entree for my nephew. A moment later, a man who worked there comes up to the table.

Man: “You ordered a children’s meal?”

Grandmother: “Yup! For this little one here.”

Man: “I suppose you want the free kid’s meal? That’s only for children under twelve. How old is he?”

Nephew: “I’m six and a half!”

Man: “Do you have a driver’s license?”

The whole family chuckles awkwardly, thinking this is a misplaced joke. He stares back, seriously.

My Brother: “Uh, no… He doesn’t have a driver’s license. He is six.”

Man: “Well, you need some way to prove he is actually six! We can’t have adults scamming us out of free kids’ meals!”

My Brother: “I mean, he’s obviously not an adult, he’s in a booster seat…”

Man: “Well, we need to prove it some other way. I’ll investigate. I’ll need his full name, date of birth, the school he is enrolled in, his teacher’s name—”

My Brother: “—Yeah… I’m not comfortable giving you that. We will just pay for the macaroni and cheese.”

Man: “I knew you were trying to scam us! I’m sick of these people coming in here and trying to get free food out of us for their fake kids! I am going to…”

He has gotten louder as he speaks, and at this moment, a younger man has come out of the kitchen in a chef’s coat.

Chef: “Dad! What are you doing?!”

Man: “These people were trying to scam you out of a free meal. I told you! You need to run a tighter ship around here!”

Chef: “A free meal… for the obvious child? Dad, what is wrong with you?!”

Man: “Nothing’s wrong with me, I know how these people work.”

Chef: “But you can’t recognize a child?”

The argument continued in the kitchen, then the chef apologized to us profusely. We ended up having half our meal comped, far more than the kid’s meal discount that started this debacle!

I work at a hospital, more or less as a janitor. It is near the end of my shift (barely twenty minutes left) with a single task left to do that I can get done in a couple of minutes, but first, I have to go to the bathroom.

I’m on my way to a staff restroom when a visiting supervisor from another facility comes around the corner, blocking my path to the bathroom.

Visiting Supervisor: “There you are, [My Name], I need to talk to you about something.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, give me a second, I—”

Visiting Supervisor: “—This will only take a second, don’t interrupt me.”

Me: “Okay, but—”

At this point, I’m bouncing from one foot to the other as my body has made the decision that my desire to go to the bathroom has upgraded from “inconvenient” to “urgent”.

Visiting Supervisor: “Excuse me. I’m talking, and it’s time for you to listen.”

Me: “No, I will in a minute, I just have to—”

Visiting Supervisor: “—No, you’re going to listen now. Now stop dancing around and stand still.”

At this point, I decide to ignore him. Knowing that I’ll get in trouble later, I move to step around him, but he moves in front of me. I try to go the other way, and he blocks me again.

Visiting Supervisor: “I’m not going to tell you again—”

Me: *Snapping and yelling in his face* “I HAVE TO PEE! MOVE!”

This seemed to surprise him long enough that he didn’t move fast enough to stop me as I jogged past him into the bathroom. Luckily, I closed and locked the door, though admittedly it got a little awkward since he was pounding on the door and shouting at me, something about “No right to raise (my) voice”.

It took a couple of minutes for me to finish my business, and in that time, I heard other voices, and I decided to take my time washing my hands. Finally, the voices outside the bathroom faded, and I peeked out, finding a nurse outside, who asked me if I was okay.

Me: “I’m fine, I just needed to pee, and he kept blocking me.”

Nurse: “I mean, everyone heard you say that much. I saw security escort [Visiting Supervisor] away, and he was still really mad.”

Me: “Security? I didn’t call for them.”

Nurse: “Normal patrol, heard the commotion. They’ll probably pull the tapes.”

Me: “Ugh. My shift ends in like, ten minutes.”

Nurse: “You should probably give your side of the story quick, then.”

Figuring she was right, I did my last task to get it out of the way, then instead of clocking out, went to the security office, a guard coming out and informing me that [Visiting Supervisor] was in there trying to spin the footage into making him the victim.

Security: “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but let’s go somewhere else real quick just for the sake of a record, okay?”

Me: “Not much to tell, anyway. It basically just amounts to, ‘Going to the bathroom, got blocked, he wasn’t listening, he got offended, and I escaped into the bathroom’.”

Security: “Sounds about right, and that’s what we’re getting from the footage. Have you interacted with [Visiting Supervisor] much?”

Me: “I’ve met him a few times, but only in a ‘Hi, how are you?’ kind of way. I think this was maybe the fourth time in two years we’ve seen one another face-to-face. For some reason, he was being really insistent about talking to me, but wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.”

Security: *Nodding* “Yeah, he won’t tell us what he was trying to tell you, or what you even said to him; apparently he didn’t like that you raised your voice.”

Me: “He did say something like that when he was punching the door.”

Security: “Like I said, I wouldn’t worry about it; The camera shows pretty clearly that you were trying to get away from him and de-escalate. We’ll save the footage and send it to HR.”

Me: “Is that really necessary? I barely know the guy, and I might have just caught him on a bad day.”

Security: *Looks around, then leans in.* “Between you and me, this isn’t the first ‘bad day’ he’s had in the past four or five months. Mostly hearsay and the odd complaint, but this is the first time he was caught on camera.”

Me: “…I see. Lucky me, I guess. Is my part done for now?”

Security: “Yeah, you can hop out; You’ll probably be contacted later.”

Me: “If I’m not written up.”

Security: “If you are, that’d violate the retaliation policy. I’ll vouch for you if it comes to that.”

I thank the guard and, finally, clock out and head home. I needn’t have worried about the write-up, as it turned out: I found out through the grapevine and rumor mill over the following weeks that [Visiting Supervisor] was demoted, and a couple of months later, his employment was terminated.

To this day, I still don’t know what he stopped me for.

This story is from a few years ago, and it still makes me laugh when I think about it. This was the first time I met someone who has since become a good friend of mine. (The names have been changed.)

Friend: “You said your name was Bailey? That’s my partner’s cat’s name!”

Me: “Wait, really?”

Friend: “Do you wanna see pictures of him?”

Me: “You don’t even have to ask.”

They pulled out their phone to show me and started talking about some of the pictures.

Friend: “And here’s Dakota holding Bailey…”

Me: “Wait, who’s Dakota?” 

Friend: “That’s my partner.”

Me: “My cat’s name is Dakota!”

Friend: “Wait, what? So, that means…”

Me: “That we have a Dakota with a cat named Bailey, and a Bailey with a cat named Dakota? Yes. Yes, we do, apparently!” 

Friend: “What the f***?”