I’m a tax accountant. It’s off-season work, so I’m not following a strictly professional dress code: I’m wearing a T-shirt from a local gym that I use.

Client: “Hey, I know that gym. Is that your other job when you’re not doing taxes?”

Me: “I’m flattered that you think I’m fit enough to be a personal trainer, but no.”

Client: “This is a little awkward, but I was actually thinking cleaning staff.”

Me: “Ouch.”

I was working in a library, and a homeless guy came in.

Guy: “Can I please use the public computers?”

He needed them for something that would change his circumstances — something like printing a bus ticket, maybe, but I can’t remember now.

Me: “Can I see your ID, please?”

Guy: “I don’t have one.”

I broke the rules and gave him a temporary code anyway.

He came back the next day and approached my boss.

Guy: “Can I use the public computers, please? I need it for [task].”

Boss: “Can I see your ID, please?”

Guy: “I don’t have one.”

Boss: “Then I’m sorry, but no, I can’t let you use the computers.”

That guy pointed straight at me.

Guy: “But she let me yesterday.”

I nearly got fired, and that is why I NEVER break or even bend rules for customers.

When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I took a Creative Writing class. I love writing stories, and I thought it would help me with writing different genres. It turns out it was only poetry. I was disappointed, but I still did what I was told.

After we had written several poems, we had this thing at school called the Poetry Jam. We were told to pick what we thought was our best poem and submit it. Less than a week later, my poem was returned to me with a note from the teacher in charge of the Poetry Jam.

That evening, I returned home and told my mom that I’d gotten my poem back with a note. I handed it to her and she read this note — from the TEACHER — out loud.

Note: “This is horrible. Never write poetry again.”

My mom was livid. It might not have been the best poem out there, but there is such a thing as constructive criticism versus being just an a**.

The next year, I had the same teacher for my Language Arts class. Before I even got to school, my mother was ready to get me out of that class.

Me: “It’s okay, Mom. If he’s as bad as that note he wrote, then I’ll switch. I just don’t want to go through the hassle of it right now.”

Mom: “All right. But if he says or does anything, you let me know right away!”

Me: “I will.”

I started school and had a horrible cold, so I was on a lot of cold medicine and was fighting the urge to stay awake in class. The very first assignment he gave us? Poetry. We were given a painting and told to write a poem about it. I didn’t really want to, given the note from before, and I was kind of out of it, so I just scribbled something down that didn’t even make sense.

He thought it was one of the best poems he had ever read and gave me full credit, plus extra credit for it. I just sat there, staring at this “poem”.

Me: “…Maybe he just doesn’t know good poetry?”

I have a small diner in central Kansas. The kitchen is visible from the dining area. One afternoon, I got an order for a patty melt. I threw the burger on, and I knew I had a few minutes before I had to flip it, so I ran to the restroom real quick, as I really had to go.

I opened the door, and the lady who ordered the patty melt was standing in the doorway, blocking my exit.

Customer: “Aren’t you supposed to be cooking my patty melt?!”

Me: “It’s not going to cook any faster if I stare at it.”

I work in a restaurant. I had a table today where a man was introducing his baby and the baby’s mother to his mother, sister, and aunt. He was military, and I guess he’d been busy during his time away. They ordered a big chicken nacho to start, which I promptly put in.

Mind you, I was overseeing a party of twenty-five and finishing them up, and the host had told the family that they may have a few minutes of wait at the table. They were cool… at first. Once the food came out, the complaints started.

I checked on them multiple times in passing and nobody asked for anything. They asked for water for the table and also each had a beer or mocktail. Nobody asked for refills or to order another drink. They didn’t have a single auto-refill drink, but… okay, maybe I wasn’t super attentive.

The aunt went to the front and had a hissy fit about having to wait for things. My manager dealt with her, but she pulled me aside.

Manager: “I’ve been watching you, and I know you did your best with them, even if the food was kind of late behind that party of twenty-five. I’m gonna comp four cheesecake slices. You shouldn’t worry about them.”

I went and dropped off the discounted check, and I heard the aunt say:

Aunt: “I’m gonna order cheesecake for us all and get the whole bill taken care of.”

The sister and mom both cringed and made eye contact with me. I dropped off the free fifty dollars’ worth of cheesecake and brought the fussy toddler a free milk just to show I cared.

The aunt stared at the check and then violently snatched it up. I watched the baby’s mother die internally. I could only imagine she’d been dealing with this woman for hours or days and was rapidly approaching her limit. She was super sweet whenever I came back to the table. She wasn’t a problem, and I imagine she’d served before.

Not five minutes after the forty-dollar check was dropped, my manager found me, and we went to a computer to look at ring times and such. She wanted to make sure I had done my best before she stuck up for me. Everything checked out, and she decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and comped the table’s entire bill.

They seemed satisfied and left… finally. On the way out, the aunt called me “slow and shiftless” and said I should work somewhere else. I laughed in response and wished them a lovely evening.

I knew I wasn’t gonna get tipped and just started to bus the table once they were out of view. I found a twenty by where the sister was sitting and a crisp fifty in the middle of the table. I’m betting the dude left that.

As I finished up, I saw the baby’s mother speaking to my manager, who gestured toward me, and I walked over. The woman smashed a crumpled hundred into my hand and whispered:

Baby’s Mother: “I’m so sorry. I know you did your best with them.”

I almost cried.

Me: *Nodding* “Thanks so much. I hope I see you and your baby again.”

She thanked me again and walked off.