(I have a small rescue, a corgi-dachshund-chow-mix, who is a very picky eater. He basically eats everything but dog food, so we have had a hard time feeding him since we’ve only had him a few months. The dog and I are in a very posh pet store that specializes in pet food and even promotes their own brand of treat, which is a sort of “gourmet” sausage for dogs. As I am browsing the store, quite desperate to find something the dog will actually eat, an assistant approaches me and asks what I am looking for. I explain, and she clearly doesn’t like the idea of a dog being picky, as this is seen by many as a failure in training rather than a medical or personality issue.)

Assistant: “Well, your dog seems to be healthy, so I don’t see why he shouldn’t eat the food here.” *points to shelf* “But I have something here that has so far convinced everyone; he’ll definitely like it.”

(I am not convinced, especially as she is referring to the afore-mentioned sausage, which is rather expensive and almost as big as the dog himself.)

Me: “Yeah, I don’t know. If he doesn’t like it, what am I supposed to do with it?”

Assistant: *giving me a condescending look* “Well, of course we have samples!”

Me: “All right, let’s give it a try!”

(She cuts a piece of the sausage which I give to the dog. She can’t see him from behind the counter, so she asks smugly:)

Assistant: “How many do you want? He’s eating it, isn’t he?”

Me: “Um…”

(The dog had had one sniff and decided to drop on the floor and ROLL AROUND IN A PIECE OF GOURMET FOOD… looking rather happy, I must admit. I fled the store and haven’t dared to come back yet.)

(I work in a home for the elderly. I have to help an elderly woman to change seats because her left arm and leg are paralyzed. She can stand as long as she holds on to somebody. While I’m transferring her into her wheelchair, she holds onto my neck and by doing so she chokes me. Getting out of breath, I quickly set her into her wheelchair. After catching my breath I talk to her.)

Me: “Miss [Woman], you were choking me.”

Woman: “Oh, sorry. I’ll leave that to your girlfriend.”

(After that I had to catch my breath again from laughing too much.)

(I’m working the night shift at a hotel during a big Christmas party of over 500 people. We’re all helping out wherever needed, so I switch from working the bar to working the party hall fairly regularly.)

Guest: *sits down at the bar and orders a drink* “So, do you enjoy working here?”

Me: *while making his drink* “Oh, yes, sir. My colleagues are great and the hotel is beautiful, so I enjoy it very much.”

Guest: “But it has to be stressful, right?”

Me: “It can be, yes. But in the end, that depends on how you look at things.”

Guest: “True. Still, you look like a bright girl; wouldn’t you like to do something else?”

Me: “I enjoy my work, so no, not really.”

Guest: “But this job can’t possibly pay you enough! I mean, I work as a manager in my company, and even my pay isn’t enough for the people I have to put up with! You’ve got to meet more idiots than me!”

(I’m trying really hard not to think “Yes, people like you…” This conversation is disrupted by me serving other customers, by the way. But trying to include this would probably create confusion.)

Guest: “Really now. Why don’t you study something? I’m sure you could do that! You could be the boss around here!”

Me: “I can always do that at a later time when I’m sure what kind of degree I’d like to get. For now, I’m content.”

Guest: “Really? You’re content serving a**holes drinks?! And clearing dirty dishes? Are you sure you don’t want something better for yourself?”

(A colleague asks me to help him out in the party hall; I am very glad to get away from this guy. Towards the end of the party, while I am clearing the last glasses off the tables, the same guest finds me again. He is drunk and yelling.)

Guest: “THIS is your DREAM, REALLY?! REALLY?!”

(I ignore him and keep on clearing the glasses away. When I return from our back office, an arm is suddenly slung around my shoulder. It is the same guest again.)

Guest: “You’re a pretty, smart girl. You could do so much better. I’m going to help you! I’ll protect you! You can quit right now. I’ll get you a place at a university and you can come back and run this hotel!”

Me: *shrugging off his arm* “Thanks, but I really do enjoy working here. I don’t want to study right now and I don’t want to quit.”

Guest: “BUT WHY? WHY?! WHY DO WORK EVERY IDIOT CAN DO? You’re better than this!”

(I walked away from him, as he got more and more agitated and tried to grab me again. He started to scare me a bit. When I reached the bar, he was still in the hallway screaming how I was so much better than this job. His coworkers collected him soon after, and one sought me out to apologize for his behavior.)

(The gas station I work at is part of a national chain that runs promotions. Customers receive a sticker for every unit of a set amount of litres of gas they purchase. With ten stickers, they can purchase a promotional item for cheaper than its normal retail price. To encourage us to promote the event, there are regional competitions between stations. The stations that sell the most items get a financial reward that is added to the budget for the Christmas party. Usually, these events run several months and the amount you have to buy for each sticker is so low that most people have ten stickers by the time they fill their car the third time. This is why my station decides to simply give ten stickers to each customer that buys the minimum amount for a sticker. None of the items — mostly gardening equipment or DIY tools — are good enough, rare enough, or cheap enough for people to be interested in buying multiples or buying them in bulk to resell, so we are confident that by doing so we do not create extra sales. Our main “rival” is a station that has a large number of commercial truck drivers as their regular customers. Our “rival” station wins the competition this time, with us as a close second. During a “stamp” event, a coworker runs over to me and another coworker.)

Coworker#1: “Guys, you will not believe what [Manager] told me just now. [Manager of Rival Station] went to the regional manager and complained that we were cheating by giving out extra stamps, and that we should be fined and permanently disqualified from every competition.”

Coworker#2: “What?! Wait. Wasn’t it [Rival Station] that asked their regulars to not pump their gas in one go, but do multiple purchases of ten euros each during [Event] so they could hand out more tickets? How is that fair?! They have all these truck drivers as customers. Do you know how many ten-euro purchases it needs to fill up one of those trucks? We only give one ticket per customer and car!”

Coworker#1: *grinning* “I know, and so does [Manager]. You want to guess who is now under investigation and has to return the reward they got for [Event Competition]? Not us!”

(As it turns out, what we did toes the line, but was considered acceptable. [Rival Manager], on the other hand, had broken the rules.)

Lesson Number #1: “It does not pay to be a rat, especially if you are the one with skeletons in the closet!”

(I’m in line waiting to be checked out, shortly before the store is going to close. In front of me is an elderly lady, clearly in retirement already. This happens when she turns to leave. In Germany it’s very common to wish someone to have a nice end of the working day.)

Elderly Lady: “Thank you, and have a nice end of your working day!”

Cashier: *starts laughing* “Ha, I almost wished you the same!”

Elderly Lady: *starts laughing, too* “Well, my working days finished long ago!”