As a woman and a frequent blood donor, there are times where I really need iron. I’ve been taking a supplement for years, but it makes me constipated. I do some research online on liquid iron supplements, which are supposed to, well, not do that, but all the ones I see online are really expensive.

One day, while browsing the supplements at an expensive grocery store where I don’t usually shop, I surprisingly find a small, glass bottle of liquid iron — the store’s brand — much cheaper than what I saw online. I decide to try it, and, as it promises on the label, that troubling side effect is gone! It’s now my iron supplement of choice.

Fast forward to a time where I realize I’m almost out right before the time when I need it most. I go the store but can’t find any on the shelf. I ask the girl stocking if they have it at the moment, and she points me right toward it on the shelf… but oh, no, the bottle is covered in dark, sticky goo — the color of the medicine inside — which explains why I couldn’t spot it. And, wouldn’t you know it, it’s the last one on the shelf.

The girl’s about to take it away to throw it out. This is the only place I know of where I can get such a thing at so cheap a price. My voice instinctively pleads, “Another one could have leaked over it, right?”

She replies, “Yeah…” in exactly the tone you’d expect.

I take the bottle from her and examine it. It’s full. There’s no stream of purple liquid dripping out anywhere. The stains are in multiple places; there would probably have to be multiple leaks if it was coming from inside this bottle.

I honestly believe it’s another bottle that leaked on this precious last one and say so. The girl says nothing, but I’m sure she thinks I’m crazy. For a split second, I’m terrified she’s going to insist they can’t sell it to me in that state, that she’ll take it from me to throw away, and I know there’s no magical, endless “back” where they keep secret stashes of merchandise.

Desperate, I blurt out, “My time of the month’s about to start, and you guys are the only ones that sell this.” She nods and moves away.

When I get to the register, I hold it up so the — male — cashier can scan it. To him, I just say, “You don’t want to touch this — something leaked over it — but it’s the last one; I have no choice.” He checks me out without comment.

It’s not until after I exit the store with my prize that I realize how I must have come across. I can only hope I’m not the first desperate customer they’ve ever had who cannot survive without an item of theirs! I hope they just take it as a testimony of how superior their products are.

It’s required to wear facemasks indoors in any shop in the city, not only ours, but people are stubborn in their beliefs. One day, I accidentally invent a fun way to spare myself some nerves on fighting those people; it mostly works to this day.

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to serve anyone without a facemask.”

Customer: “Afraid, huh? Afraid of me infecting you?”

Me: “No, I’m not. But it’s a requirement not only from our management but from our government itself.”

Customer: “You know it’s all fake, right? Facemasks won’t protect you from anything!”

Me: “Actually, facemasks will 100% protect you from being fined.”

Customer: *Laughing* “Okay, you convinced me!”

This story is part of our Anti-Masker roundup.

Read the next Anti-Masker roundup story!

Read the Anti-Masker roundup!

It’s early on a weekday morning. My husband is up, getting ready for work, and our one-year-old daughter has been up with him this entire time. Having just climbed out of bed myself, I meet him at the bathroom while he cleans up, checking on what has happened while I slept.

Along comes my daughter, waddling aimlessly up and down the hall. As she circles around me for another lap, I groggily reach down to ruffle her hair in passing…

And jerk wide awake when my hand comes back red and sticky!

I snatch her up before she can waddle off again, searching her over in a blind panic… only for my husband to burst out laughing a few seconds later, leaving me slack-jawed.

My daughter didn’t have some sort of head injury, thankfully, but a giant gob of strawberry jam smooshed into the back of her hair. 

We still don’t know how it got there to this day — my husband had only cereal that morning — but it’s been an amusing highlight of my child’s toddler years to tell all our friends and family.

A bit of backstory for anyone reading old stories years from now: there’s a global health crisis going on, and a lot of people are acting like it’s either fake or no big deal. I’m waiting for an x-ray, and I overhear some medical workers talking.

Worker #1: “Did you hear that [disease] causes a loss of ability to orgasm?”

Worker #2: “No! Where did you hear that?”

Worker #1: “My girlfriend and I made it up, but if we spread that around, maybe people would actually care.”

This story is part of our Best Of August 2020 roundup!

Read the next Best Of August 2020 story!

Read the Best Of August 2020 roundup!

We are still in the midst of the current health crisis. Once June rolls around, the people in my area are under the impression that the outbreak has magically gone away. My coworker and I are wearing masks, but at the time of this story, I happen to have it hanging around my neck when the lunch rush hits. Our store is quite small. And it must be noted that I am a woman. 

The lunch rush typically consists of factory workers or automotive crew made up of mostly men who do not follow the proper social distancing or other such rules. We have signs posted on the doors but cannot force anyone to abide by them. 

A woman comes up wearing a mask and says loudly:

Woman: “These men must not care about my safety.”

She emphasizes the word “men.”

Woman: “They must think they are so manly that they don’t need to wear a mask and now they are putting themselves and everyone in here at risk.”

I am speechless, because honestly, what can I say or do? I finish her transaction. And she turns to the crowd around her. 

Woman: “Do you feel like a man? Do you like putting everyone at risk? You must feel like such a man.”

As she left, she repeated, “You must feel like such a man,” and, “You should all be ashamed for not caring about my health.”

After everyone left, I couldn’t help but laugh because she could have easily waited until the store was empty to purchase her (single) lottery ticket, but you know she came in on purpose. Turns out this wasn’t the first time she had done this and I am surprised she didn’t say anything about my mask being around my neck instead of my nose and mouth.