(Our library policy is that you must either provide your library card or a form of photo ID to check out items or use a computer. A patron comes in, selects a few DVDs, and comes up to the front counter.)

Patron: “And I don’t have my library card or my ID, so just look me up by my last name.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re going to need either your library card or your photo ID to check out your items.”

Patron: “You know who I am! I’m in every day! Why can’t you just check me out?”

Me: “I’m sorry; it’s our policy.”

Patron: *points at a new coworker who has only been working a few weeks at this point* “Well, SHE checks me out all the time without my card! Isn’t that right?”

Coworker: *deer-in-headlights look* “Uh…”

Me: “I’m afraid it’s against our policy. Would you like me to hold your DVDs for you, and you can check them out the next time you come in with your card?”

Patron: *angrily throws the DVDs across the counter at me* “Never mind!” *storms out*

(The coworker was apologetic, saying she’d never seen this woman before and had no idea what she’s talking about. Sadly, this isn’t the first time someone has used the “but so-and-so lets me check out without a card” excuse, and it’s unlikely to be the last…)

(The phone rings at the front desk, but when I answer it I just hear it hanging up, so I call back to make sure everything is okay.)

Me: “This is [My Name] at the front desk; did you just try to call?”

Guest: “It must have been one of my kids. I’ll go beat them now.”

(My husband and I got tickets to see a play about Christmas shortly after Thanksgiving. The play is about to start and they make an announcement.)

Announcer: “Please remember to silence your cellphones and no photography during the performance. We are also pleased to announce a special guest appearance by Harrison Ford!”

(The audience laughs since this is a musical performance at a small theater attached to a high school. About 15 minutes into the performance, my husband leans over and asks the following.)

Husband: “So, when is Harrison Ford going to show up?”

Me: “Um… That was a joke…”

Husband: *slightly disappointed* “Oh…”

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(A mother and her young son, about three years old, come into the frozen foods aisle where there are three carts filled with clearance items. The mother immediately starts digging through the first basket while her son sits quietly in another cart. Just as she pauses to look at an item in the first cart the boy becomes VERY excited.)

Boy: “Oh, look, Mama! You see dat right there?! It’s Avengers! See? You see dat?!”

Mother: *confused* “What? Where?”

(The mother glances though the second cart then into the third and spots a garishly colored box decorated with the Avengers characters. She picks it up and begins looking at it while the boy is clearly trying to physically restrain himself from launching himself out of the cart.)

Boy: *begging* “You see dat?! It got Iron Man and Hulk Smash and Cap’ ‘Merica and Thor! Oh, please, Mama, please, you buy it for me? I really like it! Please, you buy it for me?”

Mother: *absentmindedly* “Hold up… Trying to read it.”

Boy: “I just like it so much! I like Cap’ ‘Merica and Iron Man and all the Avengers! Please, you buy it for me, Mama? You got coupon for it? You buy it for me?”

Mother: “No, sweetie, I don’t have a coupon for it.”

(Although the boy has been begging for it he hasn’t been angry about it. He just clearly wants whatever is in this box and as soon as the mother declares that she doesn’t “have a coupon” the little boy deflates. His shoulders slump, he puts his head down, doesn’t say a word at all, but continues to look at the box with a look of pure longing. It’s rather heartbreaking to witness. At this point the mother has finished reading the front of the box and turns it over to look at the back. Because the item is nearing its expiration date there is a small white tag indicating the sale price. The second the little boy sees this he practically launches out of his seat and very loudly continues begging.)

Boy: *pointing* “You see that, Mama?! It on sale! It say one five zero! That not too much! And, look, it got Hawkeye on the back! I just love that guy! Please, you buy it for me, Mama? It my favorite!”

(At this the mother bursts out laughing as she turns and looks at the boy.)

Mother: “It’s your favorite? Sweetie, you don’t even know what’s in here! They’re granola bars!”

Boy: *nodding* “Uh-huh. Yeah. Those my favorite! I really like those! And I like Cap’ ‘Merica and Hulk Smash and Hawkeye and Thor! Oh, Mama, I like them so much!”

Mother: *looking from the back then back to him and trying not to laugh* “All right. You know what?”

Boy: *suddenly serious* “What?”

Mother: “I have dragged you out to a billion different stores today which, I know, is really boring.” *the boy nods in agreement* “And this whole time you haven’t thrown a single fit, so—” *tosses box in his lap* “—here ya go. I’ll buy it for you.”

(At this the boy looks like he’s about ready to cry because he’s so happy.)

Boy: “Thank you so much, Mama!” *holds the box out and gazes at with complete adoration* “Wait!” *puts the box down and holds out his arms towards his mother* “Kiss and hugs!”

(The mother obliged him and the two went on their way with the boy excitedly talking about how cool the Avengers were. I’ve seen loads of kids throw temper tantrums or demand things from their parents but never had I seen a child beg for something so sweetly.)

(I’m waitressing at a small restaurant when a young mother with a toddler walks in accompanied by the mother’s grandfather. I seat them and they order. The grandfather orders the chicken fried steak which is soft enough that a knife isn’t necessary so one normally isn’t given with the meal. This happens as I drop off their plates.)

Grandfather: *looks at his plate then up at me angrily* “WHERE THE F*** IS MY KNIFE? HUH? HOW THE F*** AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT THIS—”

(Suddenly the mother slaps her hand onto the table hard enough that all the dishware jumps, the toddler yelps, and the grandfather is startled into silence.)

Toddler: “Uh oh. Mama MAD. Not me did it!”

Mother: *looks at the grandfather with a look of pure fury* “You do NOT speak to people that way! Do you understand? Now, I told you, if I’m going to take you out to eat then you WILL be on your best behavior. You will either apologize to this young lady or you can go sit in the car by yourself and be hungry. Everyone else in the family might be willing to put up with your attitude but not me! So you got two options: apologize or leave.”

Grandfather: *crosses his arms and sulks*

Mother: “Apologize or car. NOW.”

Grandfather: *sighs* I’m sorry for saying those things to you.”

Me: “Thank you for apologizing, sir. Now, that was a steak knife you needed?”

Grandfather: “Yes.”

Mother: *crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows at him*

Grandfather: *looking like he bit into a lemon* “Please.”

(The mother smiles and I turn my attention to her.)

Me: “And anything for you, ma’am?”

Mother: “More napkins, please.”

Me: “Okay! I’ll be right out with those.”

(The rest of the meal passes by in complete silence with the grandfather sulking the whole time. I drop off their check, the mother tucks it under her arm, drops a tip on the table, then turns around and helps her son put on his jacket. While her back is turned the grandfather quickly picks up the tip, stuffs it in his jacket pocket, and scurries out. Finishing with her child, the mother leads him over to the counter and places the check on the counter. I’m struggling with myself on whether or not I should tell her about what her grandfather did.)

Mother: *watches me for a minute* “Well, you obviously want to say something, so say it! I’m sorry for the way my grandpa acted. I’m working on teaching him manners. But if you have something to say, feel free to speak up. So long as it’s said respectfully I can listen.*

Me: “It’s… um… just that your… um, grandfather took the tip money while your back was turned.”

Mother: “HE WHAT?!”

(Leaving her son there the mother storms off back to the table, audibly gasps when she sees the lack of money, practically runs back to the register, scoops up her child, and leaves. Through the window I see her walk to the passenger side of the car, point to the grandfather, mouth the words ‘big trouble,’ and open the back-seat passenger door. The grandfather moves down in his seat a little bit, the mother calmly buckles her kid into the car, closes the door, then opens the grandfather’s door. I can’t hear what’s being said but it’s obvious that whatever she’s screaming has the grandfather shrinking in his seat until he is literally hiding his head in his jacket. The mother suddenly reaches forward, snatches something from him, slams the car door, and comes back inside.)

Mother: “The nerve of some people! My goodness! I am so so sorry for my grandfather’s antics. Thank you, though, for being honest.”

(I ring up her transaction.)

Mother: “I was going to give you a bit for being so patient with him but I think you deserve a bit extra. As for him, well, he can stay home eating cold ham and cheeses sandwiches for a few days. We’ll see how well he likes that!”

(The mother tipped me generously then left. They did come in the following week but this time the grandfather was much better behaved!)

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