(My boyfriend and I have been together since I was in ninth grade. We’re out for lunch at a fast food place.)

Waitress: *to me* “What can I get you?”

Me: “I’ll have a chocolate shake.”

Boyfriend: “I’ll have fries, a cheeseburger, and a… vanilla shake.”

(The waitress nods, smiling at my boyfriend, and then disappears. She comes back with my boyfriend’s order, but mine takes an extra fifteen minutes. She kinda throws it down, which makes it threaten to fall over. I ignore her, until she comes back with two stacks of napkins. She hands one to each of us, and my boyfriend looks at his for a second before sneering.)

Boyfriend: “Be right back, babe.”

(Turns out, she has written, “If you ever want to dump the slut and hit me up…” with her Snapchat handle and number on the napkin. My boyfriend goes over and shows it to the manager, and then tells the manager that he wants to do something first, before the waitress gets chewed out. So, he comes back to the table, grabs my hand, takes me over to the door to the kitchen, waits until the waitress comes out, and dips me.)

Boyfriend: “Happy anniversary, babe!” *kisses me*

(Our anniversary isn’t until August, but… Best. Present. Ever. Her face was hilarious when I came back up for air.)

(I manage a restaurant. One night, at the end of service, one of my waiters says a pretty lady would like to speak to me about paying her bill. I go to her and he’s right; she’s gorgeous. I ask what the problem is, already thinking she’s unhappy about the service or has finished her food and then decided it was, in fact, not nice. She responds that the food was great and service was good, but…)

Customer: “I don’t have any money to pay for my drinks and food that I had with my friends, and they’ve all left.”

Me: “Is there anyone you can call to come settle the outstanding balance? Or you could leave your ID as security and come back tomorrow to pay the bill.”

Customer: “No, I can’t do either of those. Actually, there’s money in the car; let’s go get it together.”

(Naturally, I agree and go to the car park with her. She opens the door, leans seductively into the car, and pretends to rummage around for a while, waving her bum around in the air. Then, she slowly slides out, looks at me with brooding eyes, and says:)

Customer: “Oops, I guess I don’t have any money.”

(I ask again if she’s sure there’s nobody to call who could come pay.)

Customer: “No, but I’m sure we can arrange some other form of payment.”

(She licks her lips and looks me up and down, clearly implying some sort of sexual favor. She knows she’s an attractive woman and tries to play on it, stepping towards me, pushing out her chest.)

Me: *keeping a straight face* “Yes, we don’t only accept cash; we also take credit cards and other currencies at the exchange rate if you have any on you, or we could accept an online bank transfer from your bank to ours — our bank account is [number] — or if you have something like a ring or piece of jewelry to the value or higher than that of your meal, I’d be happy to hold on to it so you can come collect it and pay tomorrow.”

Customer: *doesn’t even take the hint* “Actually, I meant another way of paying, but since you’re at work, I get why you might be shy. How about you take my ring and then bring it to my house tomorrow and I’ll give you [amount more than her outstanding balance] for your trouble.” *stepping closer* “Then, maybe you can stay a while and we can get to know each other better.”

Me: *still keeping a straight face* “I doubt my wife will be too pleased with that idea, but I’ll just take your ring—” *practically snatches it* “—and you can come pay for it tomorrow.”

(I was struggling not to smile because she clearly wasn’t expecting to be turned down. She threw her hands in the air and had a kind of childish tantrum, and then got in her car and drove off. A driver came with the money the next day. I told my girlfriend and she just smiled and said she was pleased I’d called her my wife!)

(I work away from home a lot, and on this job, I’m part of a team that’s all staying in the same hotel. I run to keep fit, so I always take my running gear with me when I’m staying away. I go out for a run one evening and pass some of my colleagues on their way to get food as I do so. The next day, I hear a commotion from another part of the store, shortly before one of my team leaders appears with one of the other guys dragging his feet behind him.)

Team Leader: “[Coworker] has something to say to you.”

Coworker: *mutters something inaudible*

Team Leader: “I don’t think that [My Name] heard that.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry for taking photos of you while you were running last night and showing them to other people. I won’t do it again.”

Team Leader: “He’s deleted the photos from his phone and Google Images, and he emptied the bin. They’re gone.”

Coworker: “It’s not my fault you have a nice a***.”

Team Leader: “And it seems we need to have another chat.”

(Luckily, that was someone assigned to set up a department on the mezzanine level, and I was setting up one downstairs, so I didn’t have to encounter him very often. The other blokes on the team all agreed that he was out of line. As the guy I was working alongside put it, “Yeah, you’ve got a nice a***, but taking a photo of it without your permission is rude, and sharing that photo is completely out of line.”)

(I’m working on a project at home when someone knocks on the door. I answer, and it’s someone with a clipboard and a jumpsuit from [Electric Company]. Note: I’m in my 20s and own the house.)

Salesman: “Hi there. Is [Name] home?”

Me: “No?”

Salesman: “Oh, okay. Is your mom home?”

Me: “My mom is dead. And before you ask, no, my dad isn’t here.”

Salesman: “So, they just left a child home alone?!”

Me: “Sir, I own this house. I pay the utilities. I’m very much an adult.”

Salesman: “Oh, then let me tell you about—”

Me: “Stop right there. Do you think I’m going to at all be interested in your services now?”

Salesman: “But we’re cheaper than [Current Electric Provider]!”

Me: “Actually, I looked into it when I bought the house. They’re cheaper and have far better customer service. Please don’t come back.”

(I shut the door in his face. A few hours later, I get a knock on my door again. The same salesman is back.)

Me: “Sir, what could you possibly be offering that I haven’t already said no to?”

Salesman: “Well, we offer a student discount! You could save even more—”

Me: “I’m not a student.”

Salesman: “Of course you are! We offer—”

Me: “Sir, I asked you not to come back. You’ve instead returned to harass me more.”

Salesman: “I’m just trying to save you money!”

(My dog, a very large German Shepherd, decides to poke his head out between me and the doorframe. He apparently doesn’t like the salesman, either, and starts growling.)

Salesman: “I, uh, will mark you down as not interested!”

(He didn’t come back.)

(I’m a cashier, and I have this one customer who has been known to make lewd comments to my female coworkers.)

Customer: “Are you having a good weekend?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “You shouldn’t be working here. You ought be out with your girlfriends making whoopie.”

Me: *kind of stunned* “Okay…”

Customer: “You have the looks of a love machine.”

(By this time, the people in line behind him are looking at him. Finally, I get him rung up and through the line and start ringing up the next customer, who I can tell is trying his best to keep from laughing, as am I.)

Me: “How are you today?”

Next Customer: “I’m good, probably better than you just now.”

Me: *singing* “Oh, I’m just a love machine. I’m just a love machine…”