My girlfriend’s birthday is coming up. She’s a huge bookworm, so I decide to get her a fifty-dollar gift card for a chain bookstore. The cashier seems very friendly as she rings me up.

Cashier: “Out of curiosity, who’s this for?”

Me: “My girlfriend. Her birthday’s next week.”

Cashier: “Oh, cool. What else are you getting her?”

Me: “Uh, this? This is her gift.”

Suddenly, the cashier is no longer so friendly.

Cashier: “This is it? The only thing you’re getting her is a gift card for a bookstore?”

Me: *Pauses* “Yeah. She loves books.”

Cashier: *Muttering* “Someone’s gonna be single next week.”

I was incredibly shocked. I tried not to let her response bother me, but since this was my first serious relationship, I couldn’t stop thinking about what that cashier had said. Plus, money was tight, so I had already spent time saving up for that gift card. Luckily, my girlfriend absolutely loved it and, knowing my money situation, even chastised me for spending so much money on her! We’re married now, by the way.

I’ve just put in my order at the tills for a soup and sandwich to go, and they directed me to the other end of the counter where orders are picked up. I’m waiting fairly close to the counter but not standing right in front of it. The customer behind me looks at me, walks past me, and stands directly in front of the counter. The customer is an older man and all of the employees have East Asian accents.

Employee: *In accented English* “The soup was to go?”

I raise my hand and step closer.

Me: “Ye—”

The other customer butts in impatiently in French.

Customer: “Yes, cinnamon raisin!”

The employee, probably just hearing the “yes,” goes back to fill up the order. I come over and peer over the counter and see that she is filling up a bowl with my soup, but I actually wanted it to go. I try to call to her across the counter, but she is all the way on the other end and I don’t want to disturb everyone in the area.

Me: *To the other customer, in French* “Didn’t she ask if the soup was to go?”

Customer: *Indignantly, in French* “I don’t know! Mine is a cinnamon raisin bagel!”

The customer huffed and puffed impatiently and didn’t apologize, and when the poor employee came to the counter with my order on a plate I told her that it was my order and it was actually to go. She gave a side glance at the other customer, who was red and huffing, and kindly went to correct my order.

I don’t know if this guy couldn’t understand the language, the accent, or the question, but would it kill you to wait your turn in line and pay attention to what people are asking you?

Related:
No Soup For You!, Part 2
No Soup For You!

I was recently diagnosed with IBS, and I am still learning my triggers. A local bakery sells giant cookies that are very popular in my office. I try one and end up with IBS symptoms not long after eating it. I think that maybe it was something else I ate, so ignore it. After a couple of weeks, and continued episodes every time I eat one, I realize it is the cookies. The next day, my boss announces she’s going over to the bakery and asks if we want anything. My coworkers put in their orders. My boss turns to me.

Me: “Nothing today. Thanks, though!”

Boss: “What? No cookie?”

Me: “The cookies are actually aggravating my IBS, so I’m not getting them anymore.”

Boss: “Got it!”

She returns from the bakery and hands me a cookie.

Boss: “Here you go!”

Me: “Um… I didn’t want anything.”

Boss: “It’s on me!”

Coworker #1: “I’ll take it! Can’t have you getting sick.”

I hand it over. A couple of weeks later, my boss asks me again. I tell her that I still don’t want anything due to the IBS issue. But once again, she comes back and hands me a cookie.

Me: “[Boss], I can’t have these.”

Boss: “But you like them.”

Me: “I do. But I can’t eat them anymore. They make me sick.”

Boss: “Okay.”

She walks away. I silently hand the cookie to a different coworker. A few weeks later, the same thing happens.

Me: “[Boss], I seriously can’t have these.”

Boss: “It’s just one cookie.”

Me: “But they give me IBS and I’ll be sick the rest of the day.”

My boss attempts to hand it to me.

Boss: “C’mon, [My Name]!”

Me: “I’m not making this up. It’s going in the trash as soon as you walk away. Please stop buying these.”

She placed the cookie on my desk. I sighed and threw it in the trash. This same situation happened several more times. Thankfully, I have a different job now, where they don’t try to feed me foods that aggravate my IBS.

I manage the sales department at a salvage yard — a type of recycling facility that buys old vehicles and then allows people to come in and pull parts off them to purchase.

This is currently a male-dominated field, and unfortunately, theft and aggression are an everyday issue for myself and my mostly female coworkers. Because of this, I open-carry my .380 handgun while I’m working. It’s worth mentioning that I am a female in my mid-twenties, and I do have my handgun license, even though I don’t need one to open-carry in this state.

These are just a few of the things that have been said to me, all by men, while carrying:

Customer: “That’s cute. Is it real?”

Customer: “Better not argue with her; she’ll shoot you!”

Customer: *Whispering* “I’ll bet she doesn’t even know how to use it.”

Customer: “I’d better not steal anything today, huh?!”

Customer: “How many people have you shot?”

Customer: “Can I hold it? I just want to see how heavy it is.”

What surprises me most is how offended they get when I tell them that, no, they can’t hold it. What sane person would hand a loaded firearm to a complete stranger?!

My friend, her eleven-year-old daughter, and I go to a local village today for their Scarecrow Festival, a tradition that we’ve been enjoying for about seven years. Before getting started, we go to one of the restaurants for lunch.We didn’t go last year due to the weather.

We arrive a little after 11:00 and are seated right away. The waitress brings our menus and takes our drink orders. When she returns:

Me: “I’ll take chicken salad on a croissant with American cheese and mayo on the side, please.”

Friend: “I’d like roast beef with horseradish sauce and a bowl of French onion soup.”

Daughter: “I’d like a house salad with ranch dressing and chicken fingers.”

The waitress leaves and comes back a few minutes later.

Waitress: “Where did you see roast beef?”

Friend: “On the menu.”

It turns out that they have new menus they started today, and the one my friend ordered from was the old menu. [Friend] changes her order to a crab cake sandwich. No problem.

The food comes out and my friend’s daughter tries her salad.

Daughter: “This isn’t ranch dressing.”

[Friend] and I try it and we both agree politely that it’s not, and we request the correct dressing. When the waitress brings out new dressing, she has an attitude.

Waitress: “Try this one.”

The ranch is right this time. I politely remind her about my mayonnaise, which she has forgotten.

For the next forty minutes, our waitress ignores us. She doesn’t check to see if everything is okay and doesn’t see if we would like refills. I never get my mayonnaise. She serves the tables around us since it’s gotten busier now. But she walks right by us and looks right at us but ignores us. We’re finished eating but she doesn’t even come back to take our dirty plates. My friend and I are both getting pissed, but she’s keeping it together because her daughter is with us.

Finally, after we’ve been there an hour, the waitress FINALLY comes back to our table and asks if we’d like anything else. We say no and that we just want the check, and she leaves. Five minutes later:

Waitress: “Hey, I just wanted to double-check. You didn’t need anything else, right?”

Us: “No.”

Ten minutes after she first asked us, she brought our check out, and then we had to wait another five minutes or so before she took the card to run it and then finally came back with the receipt. She got a $2.99 tip on a $60+ check.

We didn’t blame her for the first two things; they were out of her control. But the attitude and the fact that she ignored us for most of our lunch is inexcusable.