It’s about 10:30 at night. I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman working alone and an obviously drunk man walks in with a sober woman trailing behind him. They grab a twelve-pack of beer and head to my register.

Customer: “Hello! Oh, you’re cute. Do you think I’m cute?”

Me: “Yeah, sure.”

I put on my customer service smile and awkwardly make eye contact with the woman he’s with.

Customer: *Lightly pushing the woman* “That’s my sister. Don’t worry; I’m single. Do you think I’m cute?”

I just try to move things along and get the drunk stranger out of my store.

Me: “Sure, you’re cute.”

Customer: “Nooooo, but really, do you think I’m cute?”

Customer’s Sister: “Yes, she said she does! Just buy your beer and leave the girl alone!”

Customer: “No, really, I wanna know. Am I cute? I have a six-pack. Wanna see?”

He lifts up his shirt.

Me: “Oh, very nice. Yes, you’re cute!”

Customer: “Thank you!”

He and his sister finish up the transaction and start leaving, but he stops by the door and clutches his beer to his chest.

Customer: “Hey, this beer is you. This is me hugging you. Will you hug me back?”

I then give him an air hug, lightly flapping my hands in the air like I am patting his back.

Customer: *Super excited as he leaves* “Yes! You’re so cute! I love you! Call me!”

Me: *Quietly to myself* “Ah, there goes the love of my life, beer man, and he didn’t even leave his number.”

This happens to my housemate who is fairly busty. She goes to pick up a cake that she ordered. She walks into the bakery and the male worker visibly just stares at her chest.

Housemate: “I’m here to pick up a cake I ordered?”

The worker continues staring.

Housemate: “Uh… it was Black Forest. I was in here on Friday?”

Worker: “Do you have a job?”

Housemate: “Yes, I’m a [work position].”

Worker: “I’d like you to work here! You can work the front counter and do… other things…”

My housemate quickly asked for her cake again and left very quickly! We won’t be going back there for a while!

I’m a teenager working part-time for a friend of the family who owns his own hole-in-the-wall second-hand bookshop. It’s a very relaxed atmosphere and I usually wear jeans and a T-shirt as I am mostly shelving donations, adding price tags, and sweeping up.

Even though I’ve known the owner my whole life, he’s always very professional in the store since it’s his business. I’ve never looked “mature for my age.” I look exactly like who I am: a skinny, high-school nerd. 

I’m wearing a T-shirt that says, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” with lightning bolts and footsteps around it, merchandise from the “Harry Potter” series. An older man walks up to me and sees my T-shirt. He gets a lecherous look on his face.

Old Man: “How about you and me get up to no good together?” *Wink*

I respond automatically and without thinking.

Me: “Eww!”

He gets red in the face and storms off. I hear him shouting at my boss about how I was so rude to him. My boss comes over to me and I’m suddenly worried I’m in trouble.

Boss: “[My Name], this customer tells me you were rude to him but I wanted to get your side of the story.”

I tell him exactly what the customer said to me.

Boss: *Absolutely explodes* “She’s only fifteen, you sick f***! Get the h*** out of my store!” *Turns back to me* “If you want to tell your parents what happened today, I’ll totally back you up. But could you maybe leave out the part where I swore in front of you?”

I worked there for years and never heard him say anything more severe than “darn it” the whole time. But I loved that the swear word was what he thought my parents would choose to focus on.

I’m a young teenage girl working as a lifeguard to earn some extra money. I’m at the bottom of the stairs to the water slides, measuring kids to make sure they reach the height requirement.

I’m twirling my whistle around my finger when four men in their late twenties, maybe early thirties walk by me. Three of them keep walking, but one of them just stops and stares at me. I wait to see if he’ll walk away, but he just keeps staring at me, so I speak up.

Me: “Hello, sir! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Guest: *Laughs* “Yes, I think there is.” *Steps closer* “Those are some pretty deft fingers you’ve got there.”

I immediately stop twirling the whistle.

Me: “If there’s nothing I can help you with, please continue up the stairs to the slides, or turn around and enjoy the rest of the park.”

Guest: *Inching even closer* “You can help me by telling me when your shift ends, and then show me what else you can do with those fingers.”

This man is more than ten years my senior. I lean forward and look him dead in the eyes.

Me: “You want to know what I’ll be doing with my fingers once my shift ends?”

Guest: *Nods eagerly*

Me: “Pleasuring my girlfriend.”

Guest: *Violent whole body recoil* “You… you’re a f****** [homosexual slur]!”

He thrusts his finger at my face.

Guest: “You should have told me you were a [slur], you dirty b****!”

Me: *Smiling smugly* “If there’s anything else I can help you with, please let me know; otherwise, you can continue up the stairs to the slides, or enjoy the rest of the park.”

Guest: “This is ridiculous! This is f****** ridiculous! You’re going to Hell, you ugly b****.”

He turned around to storm off, and he got maybe five steps away before slipping and falling.

After my shift ended, I learned that he demanded to see my manager, and then he was removed from the park after my manager told him that half the staff were “f****** [slurs]” and he’d been interacting with them all day.

It is the 1990s. I work in media. Occasionally, many of us who work together attend events in the city.

After work, several of us attend an event downtown. There is quite a bit of alcohol and everyone’s having a lot of fun. I happen to hear the local sales manager, who is pretty drunk, tell my female coworker, who is bisexual and has a girlfriend:

Local Sales Manager: “You should let me join you for a three-way!”

She laughs him off and goes on with her evening. The next day, I ask her about it.

Coworker #1: “He has asked me that several times but I haven’t done anything about it since he’s my boss.”

I mention this to another coworker.

Coworker #2: “[Local Sales Manager] has told me that I would be really hot in bed if I would lose weight.”

She also didn’t do anything about it since he was also her boss! He is not my boss. The general manager is, but he is also the local sales manager’s boss, and they’re also buddies.

I mention to my boss, the general manager, what happened.

General Manager: “It wasn’t a work event, and [Local Sales Manager] didn’t mean anything by it; they were just having fun.”

The usual cover-up crap. I decide to mention it to the head of HR.

Two days later, the local sales manager is given the option to resign or be fired. He chooses to resign. I’m still annoyed by this, but it’s the mid-90s. I mention to the general manager that he should have been straight-out fired but he tells me that they wanted him to be able to find another job, especially since he’s married and has small children.

General Manager: “If anyone calls and asks about him, our company policy is just to verify that they have worked there and point them to HR.”

Two weeks later, I receive a call from a general sales manager from a different media company.

Other Company Manager: “[Ex-Local Sales Manager] has applied here and put down [General Manager] as his reference, but I can’t get a hold of him. I figured that local sales managers usually work closely with someone in your position and so I am wondering if you could give me a reference?”

My brain takes a moment to implode. After a shortish pause, I tell him in the most “you know what I mean” voice ever:

Me: “I would love to tell you how I personally feel about [Ex-Local Sales Manager] and why he left his position here. But unfortunately, our policy is to only tell you that he was employed here and you should contact HR for any additional information.”

Other Company Manager: “…I totally understand. Thank you for your time.”

I tell the general manager that he missed the call and I spoke with him. He looks like he is going to soil himself. I tell him exactly what I said but without the emphasis or tone. Color returns to his face.

General Manager: “Okay, good.”

Our ex-local sales manager did not get the job. I’m sure he eventually got one but I was very pleased that I hopefully made it a little harder for him.

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