(I am pre-opening for the first time by myself, not because I’m ready, but because the coworker who was supposed to do it didn’t show up, without any warning or explanation. So, when I arrive for the beginning of my shift, five minutes before we open, I’m struggling to get the over half-an-hour’s worth of work that I am still unfamiliar with finished a quickly as possible. One of the jobs is filtering the oil in the fryers, which I’m actually fairly confident I know how to do. However, I still haven’t been able to figure out how to tell which ones need to be filtered. But I remember one piece of advice my manager told me previously.)

Manager: *previously* “The lighter color in the oil means more sugar. More sugar means it’s older.”

(My manager eventually shows up and we can open.)

Manager: “[My Name], why did you filter this oil?”

Me: “Well, I wasn’t really sure which one to do until I remembered you saying that the lighter color means there’s lot of sugar in it.”

Manager: “WHAT?! Who told you that?! The lighter color means it’s new. Filtering the new oil makes it dirtier.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. So, the darker oil is the old oil?”

Manager: “What?! No! You see this color here?” *she directs me over to the fryers* “See, the lighter color means there’s lots of sugar in it, and that means it’s older.”

Me: “But I filtered the lightest one, and you just said that was the new oil.”

Manager: “No. Look. You see how the color is darker now than before you filtered it?”

Me: “Yes.”

Manager: “When it’s that light color, it means it’s new.”

Me: “So… New oil is light, and then it gets dark with use, and then it gets lighter from sugar?”

Manager: “What?”

Me: “So, I should filter the lightest one that’s not almost clear? So, the second lightest one?”

Manager: “What?! No! You filter the lightest one.”

Me: “I did filter the lightest one. You said that was the wrong one.”

Manager: “Because it was new oil. You can tell it’s new because of the lighter color.”

Me: “Okay, [Manager].”

(I spoke to my supervisor later, as well as a coworker more familiar with the kitchen. They both assured me that older oil is darker oil and I could just ignore anything my manager said to the contrary. And the coworker that skipped off work on a whim? He went on to do it repeatedly, at least once every week. For this behavior, he was – no, not fired – promoted.)

(I’m in line at a coffee shop. I don’t typically like much more than basic iced coffee, but it’s been a crappy week, so I decide to treat myself to a blended, iced mocha drink. As I’m waiting for my drink, the guy who was behind me in line is looking me up and down with a smirk, standing entirely too close given we are the only two people there and don’t know one another. When I make eye contact with him, he grins and raises an eyebrow, gesturing to encompass my body.)

Jerk: “You know, if you start drinking stuff like that, you’re going to ruin everything you’ve got going on.”

(I just stared at him for a second, rolled my eyes, and turned away until my drink was called. As I walked off, I heard him call me a “rude b****.” I’m not sure how me deciding not to respond to his unsolicited commentary about my body was ruder than him offering it in the first place, but oh, well. I guess that’s a pretty basic rude b**** thing to wonder. If only I’d opened myself up to his wisdom!)

(I work in a jewelry store. We received a phone call from a customer a few days ago and my manager told me to expect them in. The silver ID bracelet that they bought had broken, and he told them to come in so we could replace it for them. The couple comes in with their baby in tow.)

Female Customer: *in a huffy voice* “Yeah, hi, is [Manager] here?”

Me: “It’s his day off today, but I’m the assistant manager. How can I help?”

Female Customer: “[Manager] told us to come in because our silver bracelet broke.”

Me: *as polite as possible* “Oh, that’s right! He told me to expect you. Can I have a look at it, please?

(After a quick glance, the bracelet doesn’t have any broken links I expected to see. Instead, the ring holding the clasp onto the bracelet has come apart.)

Me: “Oh, this is really easy to fix! We don’t need to replace it; I can just put on a new clasp.”

Female Customer: “But it will come apart again!”

Me: “I can put a stronger clasp on there for you at no extra charge; however, if you want the ring soldered shut, we would need to send it to our jeweler and charge you $30 for his work, as none of us are able to solder it shut here.”

Female Customer: “What do you mean, it’ll cost $30? It should always be sold soldered shut!”

Me: “Unfortunately, none of our bracelets or chains come with the ring soldered shut, as it’s a safety precaution. If it gets caught, the ring will open up and you won’t get cut by the piece of jewellery. Customers can choose to have the rings soldered at their own cost.”

Male Customer: “Well, okay. We’ll have the stronger clasp put on there, but we’re not paying $30 for soldering.”

Female Customer: “No, I want it to be soldered! I don’t want it to come off again!”

(Cue argument for a few minutes while I try to keep the baby entertained.)

Female Customer: “Okay, fine. Put the better clasp on there.”

(I fix the clasp very easily and show it to them to inspect. The mum asks me to put it on their son, which I do so happily. Both parents have to hold him down, as he keeps struggling, and it takes several attempts before I can do the bracelet up. The instant they let go, he puts part of the bracelet in his mouth and PULLS. I suspect that this is probably why the bracelet became loose to begin with, but I keep this to myself. He does this several times, and each time his mum swats his hand away to stop him from doing it. After it’s done, she starts making conversation again…)

Female Customer: “Back in our country, they always sell chains soldered shut. It’s so different here.”

Me: “Oh, that’s interesting. Thank you for telling me. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Female Customer: “See? Look!”

(She pulls on her own chain around her neck and, lo and behold, the ring holding the clasp comes undone and the chain falls into her hands. She has the biggest shocked look on her face as she realises that her own jewelry is made the same way.)

Me: *big grin on my face* “Oh, that’s okay! I can fix that for you!”

Female Customer: *very sheepishly* “Oh… Yes, please.”

(After I fixed her chain, the customers left the store very quickly and thanked me profusely for all of my help, saying I did a great job. I’ve retold this story to my coworkers who have a laugh of the instant karma that happened that day.)

(I am at Washington Dulles airport, and I have just missed a connection. I head to the customer service desk for my airline. I am the only one currently there, and there are five or six women behind the counter. I approach the one who actually makes eye contact with me, and begin the process of rebooking onto the next flight. While [Representative #1] is helping me with this, a man comes rushing up to her and starts shouting.)

Passenger: “I need to get on that plane!”

(One of the other ladies behind the counter tries to get his attention.)

Representative #2: “Which plane?”

Passenger: *still to [Representative #1]* “The one out there going to Columbia!”

Representative #2: “The cabin door has already closed on that plane. We cannot have it reopened. I can reb—”

Passenger: *finally to her, rather than the lady who is still rebooking me* “No! I need to be on that plane!“

Representative #2: “You can go to the gate and ask for a manager, but I doubt—”

(He walks away before she can finish, and [Representative #1] has to switch to another computer, because hers freezes up, so it takesa little more time. As she’s finally printing my tickets, the man comes back, all red-faced and angry. He actually starts going behind the counter where the ladies are all working.)

Representative #1: *losing her cool for the first time* “Sir! You are not to come back here behind the customer service desk!”

Passenger: “They won’t open the doors! I need—”

Representative #1: “You need to go back around this desk, or I will call the police to move you there.”

Passenger: “You and I need to have a little talk about customer service.”

Representative #1: “That’s just fine, as long as it takes place with you on the other side of this desk!”

(She hands me my tickets.)

Representative #1: “GO!”

(I hightailed it out of there, passing security as I did so. Whoever that man was, I’m pretty sure he didn’t make it to Columbia.)

I use a wheelchair to travel, and most airports believe me when I say that I can push myself.

But this employee…

He refused to let me push myself, wouldn’t leave when I asked him to, complained in German — thinking I only spoke English — that he had to wait around for me, and arranged my taxi without even once asking me anything. He even had a sarcastic, “I’m sure you can push yourself, sweetie,” response, and referred to another wheelie passenger and me as “zwei Stück,” meaning “two pieces,” as if we were luggage.

Maybe if he bothered to listen to me, he would have realized that I’m fluent in German and that I decided to file a complaint.