I used to work in a small coffee shop, part of a chain owned by a bakery. This was a family business, and our immediate boss was [Family Member #1], who used to work in our shop two days a week to keep an eye on the operations.

Our coffee shop had maybe ten seats, and we had a lot of takeout customers. We made most of the pastries from frozen dough, which means we had to give them time to thaw and rise, and then we filled and baked them and finally applied frosting. They were super delicious, made with lots of butter and sugar! We also served coffee and other drinks. There weren’t any single-use cups or plates. Everything had to be washed — by hand — so there was plenty to do, in addition to customer service and cleaning tables.

Sundays were often busy. Normally, there were at least two of us working, often more. However, one Sunday, several people got sick and I was the only one available. [Family Member #1] called me in the morning and told me to just do my best. She said that [Family Member #2] would drop in later and give me a hand.

I worked so hard! And I did well! [Family Member #2] came in the afternoon, took a coffee and a pastry, and sat down at one of the tables. I had not had time to clean all the tables, so I was relieved and thought that she would help me with that. So, I decided to focus on baking and customer service instead of cleaning tables around her. She sat there for a long time, and then she took some of the cups and dishes from her own table, brought them in to me… and left!

I was disappointed but kept going. The day ended. I was exhausted but very proud of myself.

The next day, [Family Member #1] called me. I was expecting that she would thank me, but instead, she said:

Family Member #1: “[Family Member #2] was disappointed that you had not cleaned the tables better.”

Me: “I was doing the work of two or three people by myself. All day.”

Family Member #1: “That’s no excuse.”

The lesson I learned: don’t work too hard; you will not be thanked for it anyway. Also, time to find a new job.

The lesson she should have learned but never did: it is not easy to replace hard-working people! When your staff is going above and beyond to keep your business running, the least you should do is say thank you. That might be the difference between keeping them or losing them.

My daughter and I are browsing through a shop that sells handmade items. As we are both avid crafters, we decide to ask the proprietor about selling some of our items in the shop.

I approach the proprietor and ask politely how we could go about doing so.

The owner looks disdainfully at my daughter and me and snaps:

Owner: “I don’t just take any old rubbish. What do you do?”

I’m taken aback a bit by her attitude.

Me: “Well, uh, we both crochet, and I sew, as well.”

Owner: *Rudely* “I have standards; I will only accept high-grade items, They have to be your own designs; I don’t want anything from patterns that have been stolen off the Internet or things like that. I also need exclusive rights to anything you make to sell; you won’t be able to sell anything elsewhere.”

She turns her back on me and goes back to the counter. I put down the items I intended to buy.

Me: “[Daughter], come on. We’re leaving. There’s no way I am buying anything here.”

She nods and puts down what she has, too.

As we are passing on our way out, I overhear the proprietor talking to a couple of customers at the counter. They are looking for wedding decorations

Owner: “If you just bring pictures of decorations you find on the Internet, I can copy anything you need.”

That store didn’t last long; it was empty when I passed a couple of months later.

A guest storms into the lobby.

Guest: “Your parking garage doesn’t have enough clearance for my Hummer!”

Me: “There is uncovered parking across the street, ma’am. If your Hummer doesn’t fit in the garage, you could park there.”

Guest: “That’s so unsafe! Go outside and raise the parking lot with a stick or something!”

Me: “That… is physically impossible for me to do.”

Guest: “Well, then you shouldn’t be working with people!”

My high-school calculus class was very chill — around twenty kids who were all friendly with each other, a laid-back but enthusiastic teacher, and a light enough workload that we could afford to goof off in class but still learn and do well.

At some point in the year, I got really into cooking. It’s my stress reliever. My family couldn’t possibly eat the amount of food I was making, so I started bringing it into school and “hosting” Friday parties in my calc class — with my teacher’s approval, of course.

I’m Vietnamese and I live in a predominately white town. This is only important because it meant that most kids from town only ate American or European foods and weren’t used to eating other ethnic foods.

Last year, around Lunar New Year, I wanted to bring in some Vietnamese foods to celebrate. It is a very important time of year for my family. I ended up making a bunch of Bánh Da Lợn, a steamed layer cake and traditional Vietnamese dessert. Some of my friends from class found out I was going to bring in a traditional dish and brought in their own traditional dishes from their own cultures, whether they celebrated Lunar New Year or not. We had different Indian, Korean, Filipino, and Spanish desserts. It was great, and I was really excited that my friends wanted to celebrate with me.

Apparently, this was an issue for one girl in my class.

I would say Bánh Da Lợn is an acquired taste, so when not a lot of people ate it, I wasn’t offended. I knew not everybody would like it. There was a lot of other food, anyway.

During our lunch period, one of my friends (who wasn’t in our class but knew I brought food in) overheard a girl from my class complaining about the food while in the lunch line. Apparently, she was saying really negative things about how I “forced everyone to eat weird Chinese foods.”

Later that day, I texted her.

Me: “Hey, I heard you didn’t like the food today, and I just wanted to know why.”

I don’t really care when people don’t like the food — I make it for myself and just bring it in when I have extra anyways — but her calling it “weird Chinese foods” when she KNOWS I’m Vietnamese didn’t sit right with me.

She texted back.

Classmate: “It’s rude of you to bring in weird ethnic foods that nobody likes except for you. You should know better since most of the class is white.”

Me: “I bring in food to share because I feel like it, and I don’t have an obligation to cater to your tastes. If you have an issue with it, you literally don’t have to eat it. Other people can bring in food, too, so if you want to, you could bring in something more to your tastes.”

Classmate: “You shouldn’t bring in ethnic and foreign foods. Stick with American foods. We’re in America!”

Excuse me?! How much you wanna bet if I brought in jambalaya, which originated in Louisiana, she would call it a “weird foreign food”?

Fine. She only wants to eat American foods? Then she can eat American foods.

The next week, I brought in a bunch of Oliebol, a Dutch doughnut, and started passing them out at the beginning of class. When I got to her desk, I pulled out a loaf of Wonder Bread and plopped it on her desk.

Me: “Sorry, but these are Dutch — too ethnic. Here you go! All-American cuisine.”

Later, she texted me.

Classmate: “What the f*** is your problem?!”

Me: “Almost every single food I brought in this year was ethnic. It pisses me off that you only have an issue when it isn’t European. You’re entitled to not liking Asian foods, but if you’re going to complain about it being ethnic, then you’d better have that same attitude when the ethnic food is from a white culture. And especially don’t call another person’s culture weird.”

She didn’t complain about the food again.

For the record, I’ve enjoyed making many different kinds of American cuisine, including tater tots, jambalaya, fried chicken, many types of pies, smores, and Philly Cheesesteaks. America is a very diverse place, and that’s reflected in its food. Happy eating!

A customer service representative calls me to the front of the store because a couple is screaming at her.

Representative: “They’re saying that I sold them the wrong game for their console.”

I go up to the front, and they shift their screaming back and forth between the two of us, but it’s mainly directed at me.

Woman: “You’re just a greedy salesperson who purposely sold us a game that’s incompatible with the Nintendo DS!”

In between the yelling, I manage to glean from them that their issue was that the game cartridge won’t actually fit into the console. I pick up the game cartridge and slide it into the machine with no problems.

They both shut up and stare at it for a second.

Woman: *Yelling again* “You tricked us and made us look bad!”

The husband shushes her and apologizes.

Man: “We went home and handed the whole lot to our four-year-old to figure out. It looks like he kept trying to put the cartridge in backward.”

Apparently, it never occurred to them to look into the matter themselves, as their toddler had things well in hand, and the obvious conclusion was that we had sold them the wrong thing. On purpose.