(It’s around Christmas and I’m shopping for my mom. I decide to go to [Makeup Store] and get her an eyeshadow palette. It takes two hours of shopping to finally decide on the right one, because I want a palette that isn’t too expensive, but that has colors that I consider “Mom-approved.” I get to the register and the cashier is new. I’m really hungry at this point and just want to get out of the store.)

New Cashier: “Can I have your number?”

Me: “I don’t have a number at this store.”

New Cashier: *does her spiel about getting a rewards card*

Me: *smile* “No, thank you.”

(I used to work in retail for seven years and was forced to do what she is doing now, so I am always polite to cashiers when declining. I also only ever asked each customer once, because I didn’t want to irritate them. When I go to pay, the new cashier accidentally hits the “cash — exact change” button on her register, prompting it to close the sale and for a receipt to be printed up. She apologizes and gets her supervisor. I say no worries; it happens to all of us at some point. The supervisor comes and rescans my items. Then:)

Supervisor: “Did you want to get into our rewards program?”

New Cashier: “Oh, she already said no.”

Supervisor: “Well…” *basically goes over the whole speech again about the deals I could get*

Me: *smiles* “No, thank you.”

Supervisor: “But you can save 40% when you buy a certain amount every month.”

Me: *still smiling* “I don’t shop here a lot. Maybe once or twice a year.”

Supervisor: “But you can shop more with these savings, and you can get [some item for free if I spent a certain amount of money].”

(My smile drops because I said no three times already. I point to my all-natural face.)

Me: “I don’t usually wear makeup — only for special occasions. This is actually a present for my mom.”

Supervisor: “Does your mom have a rewards card?”

Me: *dagger eyes* “No.”

Supervisor: “Do you want to sign her up for one?”

Me: “No!”

Supervisor: “Well, if she wants to return this item, she needs to sign up for a rewards card.”

Me: *too speechless to even ask how that’s possible or even legal*

(Part of me just wanted to walk out at that moment and just say, “Good day! I said good day!” I wish I can say I did just that, but I was also really hungry and had just spent two hours shopping… and I hate shopping in these kinds of places. I also figured the supervisor just wanted the new cashier to open up a rewards card, as they expect certain quotas each month. So, I finished up the sale and vowed never to buy anything from that store again. Mom liked her palette, though.)

(My mom gets called for jury duty every year. One year she is placed in a sexual harassment/title-nine trial. The woman in this case just so happens to be a patient of the doctor my mom works for. The judge in this trial is peeved from the start and warns that he will accept very few excuses for not serving. He declines to accept the excuse that someone is a small business owner and it’s nearing a shopping season, or that someone is a driver and doesn’t get reimbursed by his employer — basically, if he doesn’t drive he doesn’t make any money, and jury service payments are a joke. The judge gets to my mom, who states she has a reason for being unfit for this trial, but due to legal reasons cannot say in a crowded courtroom. The judge keeps pressing and my mom insists that due to HIPPA she can’t say anything more. The judge clears the court of everyone but the opposing parties and their attorneys.)

Judge: *as snide and sarcastic as all get out* “Well, now, [Mom], the court has been cleared. What is your excuse?”

Mom: “I work for [Doctor], and she is a patient.”

(The woman in question goes wide-eyed and whispers to her attorney. Both sides agree to dismiss my mom.)

Judge: *clearly pissed that he has to do this* “[Mom], you’re excused. But you have to return to the jury room to see if your service can be used elsewhere.”

(Fine. My mom went to the jury room, where the clerks were confused. It was already past lunch; most people were completely excused if they’d made it this far. They formally excused her from service for the year. My mom had a good laugh, not only because the judge was so rude, but because the woman was known for being a pain in the a** at my mom’s office.)

(I’m at my work’s Christmas party, which I’ve mostly organized under the direction of the owner’s wife, who has given lots of instructions on making sure the food will be sufficient and be enjoyed by the workers. As a result, I buy a lot of samosas and dishes for the workers based on their suggestions. It should be noted that the owners are the only German Christians in the factory and everyone else is either atheist, Muslim, Hindu, or something else. This happens as soon as we’re all seated with plates of food.)

Owner: “Now, I feel it should be brought to your attention an issue one of our customers has been having. Apparently, some of his workers are having problems working together because of different religious and ethnic backgrounds. As you can all see, we are very diverse here and I feel we should all take a moment to remember to accept our differences and each other.”

(Cue moment of silence.)

Owner’s Wife: “Now then, I’m sure there won’t be any issues here. So, let’s all close our eyes and say grace.”

(Cue a room full of uncomfortable non-Christians listening to a long religious speech largely about acceptance.)

(I have worked at a veterinarian office as a receptionist for the last ten years and know how to read people pretty well. At this particular practice, pets that are getting procedures done are scheduled to be dropped off no later than 8:30 am. This means that by the time I come in at 9:00 am, all the procedure pets are already at the office. The first thing I do is check the schedule to see what appointments are due to come in. A husband and wife come into the office looking visibly distressed. The husband is holding a bundle of towels in his arms very protectively. This is common for people who are coming in with very sick or old pets. I motion for them to come over to my desk.)

Me: “What’s going on there?”

Husband: “This is [Dog].”

(He looks like he is about to cry and doesn’t elaborate the reason for his visit. I remember from looking at the schedule that there is a pet by the same name due to come in to get euthanized. The office has a very strict euthanasia policy. The doctor must examine the pet prior to the procedure, and if the pet appears healthy we will not euthanize. I can partially see the pet wrapped in the towels and can tell that it matches the breed due to come in, but looks it to be healthy. I make a note in the chart so the doctor knows what he is getting into when he does the exam. I motion for them to follow me into the room we leave open for pets that are getting put to sleep.)

Wife: “[Doctor] said we can wait in the office until the procedure is over.” *sniffing into a tissue*

Me: “You can stay as long as you like; there is no rush. If you like you can even stay in the room with her. Let me just get you to fill out the forms, and I will let the doctor know you are here.”

Wife: “We already filled these out.” *barks at me without looking at the forms*

Me: “Okay, let me check your account and see if I can find them.”

(I check the account, and I don’t see any signed euthanasia forms.)

Me: “I am so sorry, but I was unable to find the signed forms. Do you mind filling them out again for me?”

Wife: “Fine.” *goes to sign forms again without looking at them*

Husband: “EUTHANASIA! WHAT THE F***?! [Dog] is here for a [drop-off procedure]!”

Wife: “WHAT?! OH, MY GOD! WHAT THE H*** WERE YOU THINKING?! WHAT IF I SIGNED THAT?! YOU WOULD HAVE KILLED MY DOG!”

Me: “I am so sorry. It was an honest mistake, but don’t worry; we never would have euthanized your pet. [Doctor] always does an exam…”

Wife: “NO! You tried to kill my puppy!”

(Both husband and wife left the room, all the while yelling that I tried to kill their dog to all the other clients in the waiting room. I went straight to the office manager and let her know what happened. I let her know that I didn’t know that there were two dogs that have the same name and breed due to come in on the same day, as well as having a drop-off procedure come in later then is required. I admitted that I didn’t ask the client’s name and that was my mistake. My office manager agrees that it was an honest mistake and anyone would have made the same one. Later an agent from the Better Business Bureau called and took my statement about the incident, and I never heard anything about it again, nor did those clients ever come back.)

(I’m at a family Christmas party at my grandparents’ house. Our cousins from out of town are there, and their mom is well-known for being exceptionally controlling. This is just one of many instances.)

Grandpa: “Who wants eggnog?”

(We kids all gather around the counter as he starts pouring glasses. This is non-alcoholic eggnog, just to be clear. My cousin is eight years old.)

Cousin: “I’ve never had eggnog before!”

Me: “Really? How have you not had eggnog before?!”

(Just then, my aunt, [Cousin]’s mom, quickly comes over to the counter.)

Aunt: “You’re trying eggnog?”

Cousin: “Yeah! Is it good?”

Aunt: “Yeah, but… just a little, okay? I’m not sure that you’ll like it.”

(I watch, amused, as she stands at [Cousin]’s shoulder, completely tense. Grandpa starts pouring a glass for [Cousin].)

Aunt: “No, no, no! That’s too much! Just a little!”

(Grandpa pours a new glass, and [Aunt] shouts at him to stop pouring when there’s barely a mouthful of eggnog in the glass. [Cousin] picks up the glass excitedly.)

Aunt: “Wait. That might be too much. You might not drink it all. You might not like it.”

Grandpa: “It’s fine. Let her try it. If she doesn’t drink it all, I’ll finish it for her.”

Aunt: “Hang on. No, wait. You might not like it. Just a sip, okay, [Cousin]? Just a tiny sip.”

([Cousin] is clearly annoyed, and she very slowly raises the glass to her lips. [Aunt] hovers over her with her hand half-reaching for the glass, as if the greatest moral dilemma of her life is unfolding before her eyes. At the last possible second, [Aunt] snatches the glass away.)

Aunt: “No, don’t drink it. You won’t like it. You won’t like it. I’m sure you won’t like it. Maybe some other time.”

(She handed [Cousin’s] glass to another kid at the counter. [Cousin] had clearly had experiences like this before, because she just sulked and walked away while I thanked my lucky stars that [Aunt] isn’t MY mom.)