(I work at an institute for further adult education, supervising examinations. There have to be two supervisors present at all times to make sure that everyone follows the rules: no cheating, no use of electronic devices, etc. One supervisor is from the institute and one acts as a neutral party and is not affiliated with us at all. The external supervisor has been working with us for many years. He is a gruff, retired teacher and works mostly on a freelance basis. However, I notice that he has become increasingly irritating and difficult to deal with over the course of the last couple of months, sometimes to the extent that he flat-out insults examinees and threatens to kick them out for the most insignificant reasons. When I supervise with him, I almost have more difficulty keeping him in check than the students. But since he has been with us for so long, my boss says that we should at least work with him occasionally to keep the good relationship. On this day, I am once again supervising an exam with him. It is still early and the examinees are slowly filtering into the room, and while I do the identity and passport checks at the entrance, he is writing down the seating plan for those who have already chosen a seat. Suddenly, I hear him raise his voice, sounding angry. Sighing internally, I make my way over to where he is to see what is going on. He is currently standing in front of a woman who is already sat down and looks rather uncomfortable. She is also wearing a hijab.)

Me: “Hey, Mr. [Supervisor], is everything okay? What’s going on?”

Supervisor: *aggressively* “Yeah, I am just doing my job! We have to collect all electronic devices that these people may have so that they cannot use them to cheat right? I want her–” *gestures to the woman* “–to show me her ears! For all I know she could have one of those button-like radio things in there and get the answers from someone else!”

(I stare at him for ten seconds flat while my brain tries to catch up with what I just heard and come up with a coherent response. He, a broad, roughly sixty-year-old guy just demanded from a clearly Muslim woman to take off her headscarf to show him her ears! After finally getting my bearings, I desperately try to defuse the situation because the woman is definitely shaking right now.)

Me: “Uh, I really don’t think that that’s necessary. We are required to collect all mobile phones, smartwatches, and the like, and we have to supervise everyone, of course, but it definitely does not say anywhere in the regulations that we are required to search the clothes of the examinees or anything! I am not sure if that would be legal.”

Supervisor: “But I am here to ensure the safety of this examination! This is a cheating risk we should not tolerate! She has to show me her ears!”

Me: *firmly because I have had enough of him* “No, Mr. [Supervisor], that is not how we are supposed to do this. The regulations of [Testing Company that develops the exams] say nothing about frisking students! If you want, we can discuss this matter later, but now the other examinees are waiting to start the exam. Please finish your seating plan and then we will continue with the examination!”

(I intentionally tried not to make a big deal out of this to keep everyone as calm as possible but I was fuming inside! Somehow I managed to convince him to drop the subject and the exam went about without another major incident. The woman was okay from what I could tell and I made sure he did not go too close to her again. I kind of understand his concern and the safety rules of these exams are definitely not foolproof but it would be way above my paygrade — and his, for that matter — to try and change them. That, and he definitely went about it in the worst possible way! I also informed my boss in great detail about what had happened. Needless to say, we do not work with this supervisor anymore.)

(My husband and I visit a popular fast food chain for some unhealthy snacks on our way home. On the way in, I giggle to myself as soon as I see multiple large signs stating there’s no ice cream or milkshakes because the machine is broken, something that’s not too uncommon with this particular chain. After we’ve sat down to eat…)

Me: “I wonder how often people tried to order milkshakes or ice cream today with that poor employee.”

Husband: *totally oblivious* “Why?”

Me: “Because there are literally four signs on the way from the door to the counter stating they don’t have any today. The machine is broken.”

Husband: “Oh? Really? Didn’t see any…”

(Point proven, I guess.)

(The Mercedes AMG is a car that cost starts at $129,000, and one is sitting in our drive-thru. The driver orders a small cappuccino and pulls up to my window to pay.)

Me: “That will be 2.29€.”

Customer: “No, it costs 2€.“

Me: “I‘m afraid not, sir; the computer is telling me 2.29€.“

Customer: “No, last time I ordered it cost 2€.“

(I have been working there for six months and it has always been the same price.)

Me: “The prices are standardised across our restaurants here.“

Customer: “Can I please speak with the manager?“

Manager: *comes over* “How can I help you?”

Customer: “Your worker kept telling me the wrong price for my order. I will only pay 2€ like always.”

Manager: *checks screen* “I‘m afraid it‘s 2.29€, sir.“

Customer: *obviously grumpy about 29 cents, finally decides to pull out his wallet and pay* 

(Why did he argue that much for 29 cents? Maybe that is how he could afford his car; arguing people out of their 29 cents.)

(I’m in line at the supermarket at the main railway station and it’s packed; the lines reach the aisles easily. An old lady is queuing at the beginning of one the aisles with a little private shopping trolley beside her. I’m in the queue next to her. A young woman comes up to her; she wants to get past her, but with her trolley beside her she pretty much blocks the space, though she would just need to put the trolley in front of her to make room to pass.)

Young Woman: *politely* “Excuse me? Sorry? Could you move your trolley a bit?”

(The old lady pointedly looks at the woman and then turns away, not moving.)

Young Woman: “Excuse me. You are blocking the way; please move your trolley.”

Old Lady: “I’m standing here; just go back around the aisle if you need to.”

Young Woman: “Why should I? You could just move and let me through.”

Old Lady: “What are you, too lazy? Get lost!”

(Everybody is watching the free entertainment and wants to see how this goes down. But, it seems that the smarter person gives in. The young woman huffs but lets it go to walk back to the aisle. The old lady THEN scoots forward as the line moves, and grumbles under her breath. Suddenly, the young man ahead of her speaks up rather loudly.)

Young Man: “Did you just call her a b****?!”

Old Lady: “That’s none of your business!”

Young Man: “Oh, it definitely is; that was my wife!”

(It’s like in a western when the big baddie enters the saloon. Everybody is all ears, the beeping of the cashier is slowed down to an absentminded slow pace. Fittingly, the young woman just comes up from her detour and gets into the obviously close one-armed embrace of the man. He gives the old lady a stern look, and she gets out of line to slouch back into the aisle with her head down. As I am paying, I notice the old lady talking to security close to the checkout. She seems rather agitated and points at the checkout with the couple, who are just getting to pay. I deliberately take my time to put away my stuff; this I want to see, like everybody else. The security guy talks in his mic and listens to his earpiece a bit. He nods to whatever he says and makes an inviting gesture to the old lady towards the checkout with the couple. Her look is triumphant and as they both get near the checkout, she confidently yells:)

Old Lady: “There they are, the [German Racial Slur]s who attacked me!”

(Everybody is silent and listening, no beeps of scanned products are heard. The security guy then cooly says:)

Security: “There are two ways to handle this right now. Either you apologise to these two nice people and I just ask you to leave on your own, or we call the police to help you find the right words and the door.”

(The old lady’s face at the realisation of her plan failing publicly is a show I would pay money for; so many colours, indeed. She looked at the security guy and then at the couple. After some seconds, she pressed out something that sounded enough like “sorry” and then flew from the store.)

(I am working at the reception of a business hotel. I am checking out a woman that belongs to a bigger group. The morning has been pretty stressful because the whole group was rather annoying and unfriendly. I am going over her bill when she interrupts me.)

Guest: “I did not have a coffee.”

Me: “Well, that’s what you have on the bill.”

(She ordered the coffee in the restaurant with a few of her group colleagues. After that, she went to her room without paying for anything. My coworker asked the people that were left at the table what room number she had and booked the coffee on her room bill. This means we did not have a signature from her on the bill, which is usually required for us to prove you have eaten or drunk something at the restaurant.)

Guest: “I never drank a coffee in this hotel. I am sure about that!”

(I then pull out the receipt and explain:)

Me: “My coworker could not ask you for a signature because you were gone.”

(She did not believe that and stubbornly persisted on her story. Because I was fed up with these kinds of people, I called over my coworker who had served her on this special evening. He started telling her every single detail about the encounter, going into full swing as to how he got the room number and how her own friends told him about her. As soon as he started explaining the story to her, she finally nodded her head, saying yes, okay, she drank the coffee, and yes, okay, she will pay the bill. My coworker did not stop there and even showed her the bill again to prove his statement. In the end, I had to keep a straight face because we, for once, showed the guest that we always keep track of everything and she just couldn’t fool us even if it was just for a coffee.)