(I am one of a small number of people who moderate the text-only chatroom part of a video livestream. The chatroom has a small community of regular viewers and a set of fairly well-defined rules, including “no typing in all-capitals,” which we enforce as fairly but firmly as we can. The regulars are used to the rules and respect that they create a pleasant chat experience for all, but we still get newbies trying to argue that we are “too strict” and “unfair.” This is by far the best silly argument we’ve gotten.)

New Viewer: “Hey! You moderators should calm down. Look around; you’re the only ones who really care about the capitals! Just chill out, sit back, and watch the stream!”

Me: “Did you really just tell us to stop doing our jobs?”

(I volunteer for a local charity who just took over a shop from another local charity who went bust six months ago. My wife is the manager. The name of the charity has the county in it.)

Customer: “Is [Employee] here?”

Me: “No, sorry, we’re a new shop now and there are only the three of us at the moment.”

Customer: “So, what charity is running it now?”

Me: “[Charity].”

Customer: “And what do they do?”

Me: “Support homeless people in the area.”

Customer: “Well, they’re not local, are they! They all come here!”

(She stormed out, I stood there dumbfounded and then managed to get out, “That was a bit harsh,” while my wife laughed.)

(I work at a movie theater in a small city, and because it’s a small town you don’t see as many crazy people as you think you would. It is a long day, and a new movie has just came out, so we are very busy, and I’m trying to be patient with the not-so-patient types. Business is finally slowing down because the movies are just about to start. An older woman comes up to the usher post.)

Me: “Ticket, please, ma’am?”

Customer: “Yeah, okay!”

Me: *checks tickets and speaks clearly * “Your movie is to my far right, your far left, theater three, under the orange sign.”

Customer: “I’m waiting on my husband; hold his ticket.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t hold someone else’s ticket.”

Customer: “Whatever!” *grabs her husband* “Here he is; now where is my movie?”

Me: “To my far right, theater three, under the orange sign, and you’re seeing [Movie]?”

Customer: “No, I thought I would go see [Other Movie]. Of course, I’m here to see [Movie]! Dumb f***.” *obviously never bothering to speak under her breath*

(I begin to help customers directly behind her as she walks off. Our theaters go in a C shape, starting from one to eight, and on the way to her theater, there is theater five, four, and finally her movie, three. It just so happens that the people behind her are seeing the same movie, and as I start to help them out, I hear shouting coming from down the hall, from the same woman.)

Customer: “I can’t find my movie!”

(I ask my coworker to help the people who are at the post while I go deal with the woman.)

Me: “You can’t find your movie?”

Customer: “No s***, dumb f***!”

Me: *still being patient* “It’s that theater right there.” *points to theater three directly*

Customer: “That one?” *pointing to theater four*

Me: “No, ma’am, that theater right there, number three, [Movie].”

Customer: “Which one? This one or that one?”

Me: “That one, ma’am.” *still pointing to theater three*

Customer: “But I’m seeing [Movie]; that one is different!”

Me: “That’s the same movie, ma’am; we’re just showing that movie in more than one theater, so we add the letters to the end of it so we employees and customers can tell the difference.”

Customer: “So, it’s [Movie]?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

(The customer begins to walk off again and tries to enter theater four.)

Me: “Ma’am! That’s not the theater you want.” *walks down to the theater because I need to go do my job* “This one right here, ma’am.”

(I’m standing there for two seconds when the theater doors open to reveal… her husband.)

Customer’s Husband: “Over here, honey, I saved you a seat.”

(Feeling like I can assume the woman can find her way to the theater, I begin to walk off, but then I hear this…)

Customer’s Husband: “So, did you have fun?”

Customer: “Yeah, this is more fun than watching the stupid credits, but that guy was a f****** moron! Are you sure this is the right theater?”

(My fiance and I have been together for nearly nine years. Every year we go to his uncle’s place for July 4th; they invite family as well as friends outside of the family, most of whom we don’t know. It rained most of yesterday and this morning, July 4th. My fiance’s uncle is worried that any cars without four-wheel drive parked in the lower part of the yard won’t be able to make it out, since the only way out is a very muddy hill. My fiance’s uncle, my fiance, a male mutual friend of ours, and a couple of stocky cousins go down to get the cars out before it gets worse. I end up hanging out with them, and driving some of the cars out, since my fiance’s uncle is drunker than anyone realized. Meanwhile, dinner has been put out. I ask my fiance and mutual friend if they want a beer and some food, since they are busy. They both ask for a beer, so I head back up to the house to get some. I grab a plate of food — because I know my fiance better, and there’s very little food left — when an older man I do not know approaches me while I’m at the beer cooler, where I have three beers in hand.) 

Older Man: “Surely you’re not drinking all those beers?”

Me: *politely but quickly* “Oh, no, I’m getting food and a beer for my fiance and our friend while they’re getting the cars out.”

Older Man: *grabbing a beer for himself* “Oh, so, you’re setting your ‘friend’ up as a backup, huh?”

Me: *flatly* “Excuse me?”

Older Man: *half-laughing* “You know, just in case things don’t work out.” 

Me: *knowing he’s trying to be funny* “I don’t know what you mean.”

(At this point, he fumbles over himself trying to explain it’s a joke.)

Older Man: “It’s just a joke, you know, just in case–“

Me: “I’ve been with my fiance for almost nine years. I love him. I don’t know what you mean by ‘backup.'”

(I walked away as he tried to explain it was a joke. Yes, I know it was a “joke.” Yes, I know what a backup is. No, I don’t think it was funny.)

(My husband and I have the same, gender-neutral, first name; however, mine is spelled in a more feminine way. His family is EXTREMELY traditional Southern while my husband and I are more progressive. We decided early on that we would not take each other’s last names as it would be too confusing, and if we have any children, their last name will be hyphenated. This story occurs while I am six months pregnant with our first child, visiting his extended family in Mississippi. His aunt is asking us about names for the baby and we tell her a few of our ideas.)

Aunt: “Hmm… [First Name] [Husband’s Last Name] sounds really good! I like that a lot!”

Husband: “Actually, it would be [My Last Name]-[His Last Name].”

Aunt: “Well, why would it be like that? That seems silly to have her dead name on the baby!”

Me: “Um, my dead name? You realize I didn’t change my last name, right? Also, I’m putting in over half of the work on this kid; there is no reason why he shouldn’t have my last name. And it is extremely rude to call my maiden name my ‘dead name.’”

Mother-In-Law: “YOU DIDN’T CHANGE YOUR LAST NAME?! DO YOU NOT LOVE YOUR HUSBAND? When we get back, I’ll find the paperwork to get your name changed.”

Me: “No, I didn’t, and yes, I clearly love him. However, logistically, it did not make sense for me to change my name. And no, you don’t need to do that, because I am not changing my name.”

Aunt: “Regardless of your ‘feelings,’ it is disrespectful to his family if you choose to completely disregard our name! It is the one thing we have keeping us together!”

Me: “If your name is the ‘only thing you have keeping you together,’ that is your problem, not mine. Besides, this is our decision, and it does not mean that we love each other any less.”

Aunt: “Well, fine. But I’ll have you know that kids with hyphenated last names grow up to be drug dealers and in jail! You should be arrested for child abuse for putting your child at risk like that!”

Husband: “Aaaand now we are leaving. Until you can get past whatever this is, you will not be seeing our child.”

(Three years later, the aunt has still never met our child and still refuses to speak to me or my husband. She sends my mother-in-law links on how to change a baby’s name about once a month.)