I’m a cashier at a grocery store. I have been here for almost a month so I’m still pretty new, but I’ve never heard of any customers like this one before. I’m checking out this guy and he strikes up a conversation with me.

Customer: “How do you like your job?”

Me: “Oh, it’s all right!”

Customer: “Just all right?”

Me: “Well, yeah! Some days are busy, but some days are pretty chill and light on work.”

Customer: “Would you give that same answer to your boss?”

Me: *Confused* “Probably… Yeah.”

Customer: “I could secretly be your boss, you know.”

Me: “Oh.”*Laughs* “True.”

There’s a pause.

Customer: “Whenever you’re asked that question, you’re supposed to say you love your job.”

I didn’t know how to react, so I just said I’d keep that in mind. Of all the stories I’ve heard, I never thought there would be customers that expected you to suck up to your place of work.

I work front of house at a restaurant. A woman who has been eating comes up to me with an angry face.

Diner: “Where is your manager?”

Me: “I will call her over for you.”

I do so and the diner starts complaining.

Diner: “She—” *pointing to me* “—never told me the bread in the basket didn’t come out already buttered!”

Manager: “Did she do anything else you’d like to complain about?”

Diner: “No, she did everything else right, but I want to complain about the bread!”

Manager: “I’ll… deal with her for you.”

Diner: “Hmph!” *Storms back to her table*

Manager: *Holding back a smile* “How dare you not tell her that she has to butter her own bread.”

Consider me appropriately “dealt with”!

I go to high school with a guy who describes himself as an “activist”. What cause he is an activist for is a mystery and seems to change with the conversation, frequently advocating for contradictory points. He also isn’t involved in any of the activist clubs or groups at the school. The only constant seems to be his desire to disagree with or be offended by everyone who interacts with him. It’s also relevant that he has long hair that reaches halfway down his back.

My school is running a program to try and show students non-four-year-degree career paths. One of the opportunities the program offers is the chance to tour a working machine shop and learn some basics about how the machines work, how to get into the field, etc. We are about to go on a tour of the shop floor.

Machinist: “All right, guys, we are going to show you all the machines we have here. But before we get started, we need to do something about your hair. We can’t—”

[Activist] cuts him off.

Activist: “That’s bulls***. What, just ‘cause I’m a guy, I shouldn’t have long hair? What the h*** kind of 1950s toxic masculinity horse crap are you trying to pull? My hair doesn’t make me less of a man, you Neanderthal!” 

The rant continues for a while with the machinist just calmly standing there listening. Finally, he gets a chance to speak.

Machinist: “Frankly, I don’t give a d*** about your fashion choices. No loose hair is allowed on the shop floor. That lathe over there is spinning at several hundred RPM right now, and it’s going to keep spinning at several hundred RPM whether your scalp is attached to it or not. Safety in this shop is and always will be the priority.” 

The “activist” just sputtered some angry response, claimed the machinist was just trying to backpedal and that he knew the “truth”, and then stormed out in protest. But at least the rest of us got to enjoy a very cool tour.

I’m at the dentist’s office getting a loose filling fixed, and helping me is a lady I’ve only seen once before. She’s an elderly lady who talks in a very soft and gentle voice, kind of like how you would talk to a child. I’ve been frequenting this dental office all thirty-one years of my life, and it’s in their files I have autism (ergo, high sensitivity) and anxiety issues, so I can’t help but wonder if she just talks that way or does it on purpose for me.

Today is a hot summer day, and I’m wearing shorts and a tank top. I have several tattoos on my arms. 

The moment I walk in, she says:

Dentist: “Well, aren’t you dressed like you’re on vacation?! It can’t be that hot out, can it?”

Me: “The air conditioning in here is certainly deceiving. Outside in the sun is a different ball game.”

I lay down in the chair and get anxious about the procedure. She asks if I want to be numbed.

Me: “Yes, please. My gums are really sensitive. I have to admit, the needle for the numbing makes me very anxious, but it’s shorter suffering, so I’ll take it.”

Dentist: “Well, it’s a simple procedure, and I doubt if you need one after all. You’re a big girl. You can do without, can’t you?”

Me: “No. Please don’t underestimate how sensitive I am in my mouth. I’d like to be sedated.”

The way she talks to me makes me uncomfortable, but she agrees to numb me. She then changes her tone like she is trying to console a child.

Dentist: “Okay, we’re going to use the teeny-tiny needle for this, then. You won’t even feel it, I promise! You won’t even feel that nasty numb sensation.”

My discomfort rises to the point that I’m having a minor anxiety attack. My legs start shaking, I start to cry, and I’m fighting to keep my breathing under control. I apologize and ask her to give me a second to catch my breath.

Dentist: “Come on, open up! I don’t have all day!”

I oblige, but my hands are clenching the chair, and I’m still at the mercy of my anxiety. She numbs in different spots. She mentions putting the needle near my roots, and I yelp as I can really feel the needle there. The assistant who is also there is really nice and tells me to direct my breathing to my lower abdomen, while the dentist makes a quite misplaced comment.

Dentist: “You can be who you want to be here. It’s okay.” 

What?

When she’s done, I ask her politely:

Me: “Could you maybe please not explicitly mention what you’re doing? The less I know, the better, actually.”

Dentist: *Suddenly very blunt* “You’re so weird.”

Me: *Pauses* “Excuse me?”

Dentist: *To her assistant* “Don’t you think she’s weird? I don’t get it at all!”

Me: “Care to explain?”

Dentist: “Oh, excuse me. I wasn’t aware I was saying something strange! You have tattoos all over! How can you be afraid of needles?” 

Me: *Pauses again* “That’s not comparable at all.”

I was still upset and anxious and just wanted her to get it over with. Luckily, the numbing was starting to work, the assistant continued to be lovely, and the rest of the procedure was pretty painless, despite the fact that she needed to redo the new filling twice.

A lady comes in right before closing.

Customer: “I want a large mango smoothie.”

I go to ring her up, and whaddya know, she has a coupon for a free small smoothie.

Me: “Since you ordered a large, I will need to add an upcharge.”

Customer: “I don’t have any money on me.”

I just think, “Fine, whatever, take the d*** smoothie.”

She comes back inside about a minute later with mango smoothie all over her arm and a half-empty cup in her hand. She spilled it all over her BMW seat.

Customer: *Screaming* “Why didn’t you put the smoothie in a bag?!”

There is still half left, so I pour it into a small cup and hand it to her.

Me: “Well, that’s the size that was free, so you’re good to go!”

She got so mad about that! She continued to yell and then said she was going to sue me and the store for damages.

That hasn’t happened yet.