I’m a waitress at a restaurant in a fancy golf club in the early nineties. The clientele is mostly older rich men who come in together and can act pretty sleazy. Most of us younger female waitresses have to put up with quite a lot from these guys, mainly because they’re high-paying members of a fancy club and management will usually side with them instead of us. Also, tips are pretty good, and I know that’s no excuse, but this was over thirty years ago and it seems like a different time.

We are hired young to keep costs down, and we are told to always be pleasant and make small talk. I see now that in the minds of some Neanderthals, this is mistaken for “flirting” or “being okay with it”, but there are ways for us to use this to our advantage.

One of our new teenage waitresses comes up to me looking pretty upset.

Waitress: “That group of… gentlemen… over there are saying some super creepy stuff!”

I look over and recognize their ringleader almost immediately. He’s one of our worst.

Me: “I know them. I’ll take over their table if you take over table seven for me, okay?”

I go over to the table and introduce myself as their waitress for the afternoon.

Ringleader: “Ah, much better! You look like you can handle the desires of a real man!”

Me: *Fake laughing* “I do my best, sir! Can I get a tab started for y’all? You look like a group of men who can handle a real man’s lunch, and we have some amazing bourbon at the bar.”

Ringleader: “That’s what I am talking about! Take my card, sweetheart.”

Me: *Looking at his card* “Oh, wow, you’re a Horace! That’s my dad’s name!”

It’s not, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Ringleader: *Grimacing* “Uh… yeah.”

I take their drink orders and bring them back to them. I am making small talk.

Me: “Do you have any children, Mr. [Ringleader]?”

Ringleader: “Uh… yeah.”

Me: “You should bring them to the club some time!”

Ringleader: “Girls aren’t interested in golf! Besides, they’re too busy!”

Me: “With work?”

Ringleader: “How old do you think I am?! They’re in high school!”

Me: “Oh, awesome, me, too!”

To be honest, I had just graduated, but they didn’t need to know that. As soon as this sleazy a**hole realized that I was the same age as at least one of his daughters and our dads had the same name, he was suddenly well-behaved, and so were his friends.

And the tip was even bigger than usual!

I was hired at [Pizza Place] as a delivery driver when I was only nineteen. I was the first female driver to be hired at this particular location because our franchisee was worried for our safety even though we are in a nice neighborhood. I understood, though, and always made sure not to let him regret hiring me as a driver. I actually never had any problems. Of course, I had comments from customers about being a female and getting an “extra tip if I wanted, wink wink” but it wasn’t bad.

About a year and a half into my job, my general manager and I both transferred to a busier store in our franchise. This particular store delivered right to our corporate HQ. There was a call center for a while, and after a certain time, the doors to the building would lock and you needed key card access, so when delivering, we always had to call or text the customer to let them know we were there. One guy, in all my eleven years of working, there has only been this ONE GUY who acted like this, and I couldn’t believe it!

After dropping off this customer’s pizza and returning to the store, he texted me.

Customer: “You are really cute. We should hang out soon.”

I wanted to be nice, and he was HOT!

Me: “Yeah, sure.”

Not long after that, my manager directed me to look at our make line screen, where customer feedback scrolled across.

Customer Feedback: “[My Name] was so great! Professional and nice! Please send her every time!”

Then, the customer continued to text me.

Customer: “Can you hang out tonight? I just need to wait until my girlfriend puts our kid to sleep and then I can go.”

Me: “You have a girlfriend? And a kid?! Sorry… I cannot hang out tonight.”

Customer: “I get what I want. Always. No matter what.”

I ignored the rest of his messages after that and showed them to my manager the next day.

Later that night, the customer ordered again and we sent a different driver. The customer feedback after that read:

Customer Feedback: “I told you to send [My Name]. You need to send her or I will be sending my food back next time.”

Again, two nights later:

Customer Feedback: “I’m reporting you to all! Send [My Name] NOW! Or else!”

He showed up to the store, and the employees helped cover for me as I hid in the back, butI was legitimately scared!

Luckily, he’s a dumba**! He works at corporate and they record EVERYTHING! They can see all customer feedback. He was fired immediately after my manager reported him.

I didn’t know how to block numbers at this point in time, so he blew my phone up. I was horrible for getting him fired. What about his kid? Could we still go on a date? He was gonna beat me up, he was sorry, he hated me, I was cute?!

He eventually left me alone, but it was insane!

I’m a manager at a corporate chain restaurant. My bartender alerts me that there’s a guest acting weird at the bar, so I head out there to make my presence known.

The guy is sitting at the end of the bar. He’s listening to music through headphones and doing some kind of strange dance with his arms. Okay, that’s weird, but it’s generally non-threatening, so I let him be. I continue to stay on the floor to monitor the situation.

Not five minutes later, I see the guy get up and move to the other side of the bar where a mother and her adult daughter are sitting. From where I’m standing, I can’t hear what he’s saying, but they look visibly uncomfortable, so I step in.

Me: “Sir, please stop bothering the other guests.”

The dude FLIPS OUT. He starts screaming at me.

Guy: “I’m just talking! I’m not bothering them! You should mind your own business!”

Me: “Sir, I need you to leave or I’ll be forced to call the cops.”

Guy: “The cops don’t scare me! I’ll kill everyone in the restaurant!”

Well, those were the magic words. I called the police right in front of this guy, hoping he’d just leave rather than deal with the cops.

No such luck.

He was still screaming when the cop walked in behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. This five-foot-tall man turned around to face a six-foot police officer who looked like he does MMA on his days off. I have never seen someone back down so quickly.

The cop escorted the guy outside and trespassed him from the property. The mom that was being harassed called my general manager the next day to thank us for protecting them.

A man, maybe fifty years old, comes to my register. I am in my early twenties.

Me: “Hi! Did you find everything today?”

Customer: “Found you, didn’t I? It’s a good day! You gonna go home and cook for your man tonight?”

Me: “No…”

Customer: “I’m not flirting with you. I’m just making conversation. Relax! Maybe a last-call thing, though. You’re probably a lot hotter in the dark.”

Me: “Okay, your total is [amount].”

Customer: “I mean, you can put your number on the receipt if you want me to call you someday.”

Me: *Holding out his receipt*

Customer: “You didn’t write down your number?”

Me: “No. Have a nice day.”

He snatched his receipt from my hand and left. Why would I not be seduced by a man who said I would look better in the dark?

This happened when I was about nineteen, working as a volunteer in a charity shop. The shop in question was on a fairly narrow street with businesses on either side, so the front of our store directly faced the café a few feet opposite. I’ve always been a somewhat well-endowed girl, and I have always been quite self-conscious of the fact, and while I don’t particularly dress to hide my body, I don’t dress to show it off, either. I just wear whatever I feel comfortable in.

On this day, I was in the shop window, redressing one of the mannequins and organising the window display. I was busy focusing on my task, so I was oblivious to anything going on outside.

After a moment, the shop door opened, and in hobbled an elderly man. I would have put him in his nineties, easily — the stereotypical little old man with a cap and walking stick.

I looked up to acknowledge him, but he cut me off before I could speak.

Old Man: “Hello, love. I was just sitting in [Café] and saw you in the window. I had to come in and tell you that body of yours has made my year!”

Me: “I’m… sorry?”

Old Man: “If this is how [Charity Shop] advertises from now on, I might just camp out at [Café] more often just for that view!” *Chuckles* “Very tasty view, indeed! Just wanted to let you know!”

He smiled widely and hobbled back out again. I watched in shock as he ambled back across the street to the café, feeling my skin crawl. I went and put my jacket on before finishing the display as quickly as I could and removing myself from the window.

It’s been nearly ten years and I still get creeped out remembering this old man who made the effort to walk across a road to tell a complete stranger that the sight of her body had made his day, all in a tone that suggested he genuinely thought I’d find it flattering.