(I work at a restaurant in a very rich town, in which I also live. I am getting my hair done at a ‘posh’ salon when I see one of my regulars from the restaurant sitting in the first chair.)
Me: “Hello Mrs. [Customer]. Good to see you.”
Customer: “Oh, hel— Aren’t you my waitress from the place down the road?”
Me: “Yes, I am. How are you doing today?”
Customer: “I didn’t know people like you were allowed in a place like this.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
(At this point my stylist comes over to bring me to her station.)
Customer:*to stylist* “Honey, did you know this girl is a waitress? Are you sure she has enough money to pay? You may want to check before you start serving her.”
Stylist: “Ma’am, [My Name] has been a client here for two years. She’s very reliable.”
Customer: “Oh, my. What a waste of money. Poor girls like you should not be wasting their money on things like this. Don’t you have a child to care for or something of the like?”
(At this point everyone in the salon is quite uncomfortable and is staring at the three of us.)
Me: “I’m so sorry, Mrs. [Customer]. I actually only work at the restaurant because I don’t like to spend my time being unproductive. You see, I am a college student at [Very Prestigious College]. I am currently studying to be a biomedical engineer, which I’ll have you know is the second top-grossing career currently. And since it seems to matter to you so much, I’m quite financially comfortable! And even if I were a poor waitress, as you so kindly suggested, people are free to do whatever they like with the money they work so hard for! Your husband comes in twice a week to get coffee and sit at our counter and complain about you! So really, Mrs. [Customer], I’m very, very sorry for you.”
(I am a cashier at a dollar store. Lately, we’ve been collecting school supplies for a charity that donates them to military families. As such, we have to ask customers if they would like to purchase an item for this charity.)
Me: “Would you also be interested in purchasing an item for [Charity] today?”
Man: “What is that? Some sort of communist youth organization?”
Me:*dumbfounded* “Uhm, no, sir. It donates school supplies to military families with children.”
Man: “Well, same thing, right?”
(I stand there for a few seconds, just silently blinking and staring at him.)
(My salon has had the weeks before Christmas booked out since way back in March. In mid-November, I take a phone call.)
Caller: “I need a booking to get extensions, a full head of foils, and a cut, for Saturday, the 21st of December.”
Me: “I’m sorry. We don’t have anything for the entire month of December.”
Caller: “Great. So how’s ten in the morning?”
Me: “I’m really sorry. We just don’t have any appointments in December. The next appointment for what you need is on January 30th.”
Caller: “Listen, you stupid little cow. I SAID, the 21st of December, at ten. Grab your little appointment book and book me in with [My Name]. I swear, she’s the only competent one of the lot of you!”
(I’m standing in line at a Black Friday sale, waiting to check out my purchases. We’ve been standing about 45 minutes as the lines are very, VERY long. There is a man all by himself, with no cart and no purchases, standing two customers in front of me. All of a sudden his wife pulls two carts over, with their daughter pushing another one. All three carts are filled completely. They push through the line and get in with him. One of the customers in the line speaks up.)
Customer #1: “Hey! You can’t just cut in line like that. We’ve been waiting an hour. Get to the back!”
Cutting Customer: “F*** you! It’s not my fault you don’t know how to shop. Mind your own f****** business!”
Me: “Excuse me. Would you mind watching your language? I don’t want my son to hear that.”
Cutting Customer: “You can kiss my a**, b****! That little p**** is going to learn it one way or the other. He’s an ugly little SOB with that hair cut, anyway!”
My Son: “I’m growing my hair to donate to kids with cancer, like my best friend!”
(The cutting customer’s daughter decides to speak up.)
Cutting Customer’s Daughter: “Your little f** friend should just die. Why do they give them treatments for that s*** anyway? I hope he dies, you little a**-wipe.”
(My four-year-old son starts crying, asking me if his friend is going to die. I try to calm him down. Meanwhile, my friend gets the manager of the store.)
Manager: “Ma’am, this woman just told me what you said to her son and that you cut in line. I’m going to ask you once to please move to the back of the line; otherwise, you’ll need to leave the store.”
Cutting Customer: “Now, you look here! You can’t make us move. We’re buying more than $1000 worth of stuff here! And that b**** and her snot nosed kid got what they deserved.”
(The manager got on his walkie-talkie and had security escort them out. Upon the manager’s and several customers’ suggestions, we file verbal harassment charges on the customers who cut in. The manager made a donation for $500 to the charity that my son’s friend had out in my son’s name. We cut his hair three months later, donating 18 inches, which they made into a wig. His friend made a full recovery, by the way. They both donate their hair about every five years.)
(I work as a publisher. I get a visit from a very distraught client.)
Client: “Excuse me. I’m really sorry, but I was told you were the head publisher?”
Me: “Yes, I am. How can I help?”
Client: “Well, I’ve been writing stories my whole life. I’ve even written a couple for my children that they love. I’m really good at it and it’s a great passion of mine. It’s my life-long dream to make a living as a writer, but nobody will even look at my novel because I’m dyslexic. I know the spelling and grammar aren’t great but I’ve had people spell-check it for me. I just need someone to give me a chance. I know my book will be a hit.”
Me: “I’m so sorry to hear how you’ve been treated. Send me the first few pages of your book, the best scene in the book, preferably around the middle, and the last few pages, and I’ll give them a read.”
(The client thanks me, places the ENTIRE book on my desk, and then leaves. I start to read it later that day, only to discover that not only is the spelling and grammar awful, but so is the book itself. I continue reading much more than I usually do, wanting to believe this man is truly the great writer he claims to be. The story gets worse and worse the more I read. I read a couple of pages in the middle. Then, I skip to the end, only to discover he ended the book with the most despised phrase in the literary world: “…and it was all a dream.” Needless to say, I write him a rejection letter. A few days later, I get a message from the receptionist, who is in tears, claiming an enraged man is here screaming about suing us. I tell her to let him in. It is our dyslexic client.)
Client: “What is this?! You told me you were going to publish my book!”
Me: “No, sir. I said I was going to read your book, which I did. I’m sorry, but I do not believe it is suitable to be published.”
Client: “That’s bulls***. My book is brilliant. You have to publish it. There’s no good reason not to.”
Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but the book’s no good. I can’t publish this.”
Client: “Oh, yeah? Name me five reasons why you can’t publish it.”
Me: “Five?”
Client: “Yeah, five. Otherwise, there’s no reason your editing team can’t sort it out.”
Me: “Okay. First of all, there is next to no characterisation.”
Client: “What the f*** does that mean?”
Me: “It means that your characters don’t develop in any way.”
Client: “That’s complete bulls***. What else?”
Me: “Your main character is supposed to be the protagonist and yet has no fatal flaw. He’s perfect.”
Client: “Main characters are supposed to be perfect. That’s why people love them. Hamlet didn’t have a ‘fatal flaw’.”
Me: “Actually, he did. He procrastinated and it resulted in many deaths.”
Client: “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And that’s only two.”
Me: “I’m not finished. Three, I know you are dyslexic, but almost every sentence needs to be edited. That is too much work for our editor and financially would not be beneficial for the company. Four, you not only use abbreviations in the narration like ‘BTW’ for ‘by the way,’ but you also use words that don’t exist.”
Client: “Like what?”
Me: “Like the word ‘et.’ It does not exist.”
Client: “Yeah, it does. I ‘et’ an apple.”
Me: “Ate, sir. You ate an apple. ‘Et’ is not a word.”
Client: “Fine, but that’s only four.”
Me: “And five, it’s not long enough.”
Client: “How can it not be long enough? It’s well over 100 pages.”
Me: “Sir, the quantity of a book is based on word count, not pages. Your book may be over 100 pages, but with the size of the paper, the size of the font, and the fact that you start a brand new page every time you start a new chapter, it’s too short.”
Client: “Well, how long does it have to be?”
Me: “The average novel is between 80,000 to 120,000 words. Your novel is just over 16,000. I have nothing against people with dyslexia and there are many great writers who have it. You, however, will not be one of those writers. I can continue to list more things wrong with your novel, but I have listed the five you requested. Now, I must ask you to leave my office as I am incredibly busy.”
(The client grabbed his novel from my hands and stormed out. A couple of weeks later, we received a letter from a lawyer suing us for discrimination, claiming that we were not publishing the man’s novel because he was dyslexic. I had our lawyers phone his and explain the true reasons, and I provided proof that our conversation was recorded. We never heard from him after that.)
