I’m in the third grade, about eight years old, and due to birth defects, I have to use a wheelchair. 

Not only am I fairly independent, but I’m a bit of a daredevil. I’m not one to stay on the asphalt playing four square or tetherball; I love the monkey bars.

We have a new teacher as a playground monitor, and she seems to think of me as a delicate flower or something. It’s the first day of school, and at recess, my friends help me wheel over the grass to the monkey bars.

Cue the playground monitor running at full speed, blowing her whistle, and yelling at me to get down before I get hurt.

As she arrives in a panic, we explain that I climb all the time. One of my friends tells her, “Even if [My Name] falls, he’s not going to get paralyzed-er.”

With all the recent closures, the store I’m in is staying in operation with the only customer interactions being online orders, taken to customers’ cars at curbside. I take one customer her order and verify she’s the one I’m supposed to hand it off to.

Me: “All right! Here you go, have a good one and be safe!”

Customer: “No, thank you for staying busy like this!”

As she’s speaking, she’s pulled a can of disinfectant cleaner from seemingly nowhere and has started spraying her bag over. I’ve never seen someone be so careful about their order so it’s caught me a little off guard.

Me: “Well, I’m just glad we can still get a paycheck, you know?” 

Customer: “Oh, I get that!”

At this point, she notices I’m not leaving, which is purely to maintain polite conversation while seeing her off. She’s now opening the bag and spraying her purchased items directly.

Customer: “No offense, but you can’t be too careful!”

Me: “No, I mean, go for it!”

I have no idea what I was supposed to say, but apparently, that satisfied her and she happily finished spraying her purchase before hiding the can away and leaving.

I’m waiting tables in the bar area of a chain restaurant. I have one table of two women. One of them has ordered a burger with no tomato. I forgot to ring in the change so she gets a normal burger. 

Customer: “Excuse me; I asked for no tomato.”

Me: “I’m so sorry! I’ll take that back to the kitchen and get it taken off for you.”

Customer: “No! I’m allergic and this burger is contaminated; I need a new one.” 

I relay this information to the kitchen and they begin cooking a new burger without tomato. Not five minutes have passed and I go back to the table.

Customer: “Where is my burger? She—” *points to her friend* “—is almost finished and I’m still waiting. What’s taking so long?”

Me: “You said you needed a new, uncontaminated burger. It takes time to cook and we have several other tables to prepare food for.” 

She shut up but still looked obviously annoyed. I brought her the new burger and apologized again. A few minutes later, I returned to the table to make sure everything had come out right, and I noticed she had smothered her burger in ketchup. It took everything in me not to ask if she knew what ketchup was made of.

I understand the inconvenience of the order being wrong, but don’t lie about an allergy and then complain when you have to wait for your order to be completely remade.

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Due to current situations, the supermarket I’m working for has opted to start cleaning key touch points of the store, i.e. handles, keypads, doors, etc. The “disinfectant” that’s used for most parts is very strong and a skin irritant, it has great big warning signs and notices on it, and we wear gloves when using it.

It is kept in the cage element of the cart we wheel around; the cage is only enclosed on three sides as it’s actually just there to stop things from falling off when stocking.

I am on cleaning duties when I’m asked to help move a box. I tuck my cart in behind the checkout — staff-only section — and make sure the cage opening is against the wall. It is out of my vision for about two minutes. As I’m heading back over, I see the cart has been moved and a woman is about to spray the disinfectant directly onto her skin. I shout, moving over quickly.

Me: “That’s not for hands!”

She freezes as I get there and gently take it from her.

Me: “It’ll irritate your skin and could damage it badly. If you want hand sanitiser there’s some by the exit and entrance.”

Customer: *Angry* “Why is it out if it’s not for public use?!”

Me: *Pause* “It was in the cage, behind a checkout.”

Customer: “It was out in the open!”

Me: *Irritated* “It wasn’t when I left it, but even if it was, who picks up an unknown chemical covered in warning signs from an unknown cart and goes to spray it on their skin? It could have been acid for all you knew!”

Shockingly, she didn’t raise a complaint.

I work at a pet supply store, and on one wall there are some kennels that hold cats the local shelter has for adoption. People who come in constantly walk past the cats just to say hi, regardless of whether they’re looking to adopt.

One day, it’s rather hot in the store, as the climate control is broken. Suddenly, a customer comes up to my register, looking worried.

Customer: “I think there’s something wrong with one of the cats. He’s on his back, and his eyes are rolled up in his head.”

I finished ringing the customers in line through and rushed over to the kennels so I could make sure there was nothing wrong with the cat. Sure enough, there was an orange and white cat on its back, eyes rolled up in its head, and lips twitching a little. I was worried the poor thing might have heat stroke due to the temperature of the store.

The second the key entered the lock, though, kitty was upright and looking around intently, wondering what was going on, with not a single sign of anything wrong.

We all started laughing a little as I gave him a quick check just in case. His temperature was fine, and he was enjoying the attention he was getting as I made sure he was okay.

Kitty wasn’t sick at all, just a really weird sleeper.