This is a story from a friend. She had moved from New York to Los Angeles, and although she had driven her car there, she had not been out of the LA Basin since. Consider her a California newbie.

Our hero was an Apple Mac influencer, before the term influencer was coined. She did talks, shows, consulting, etc. (Note, she was not a nasty entitled influencer, just trying to freelance a living.)

She gets a call offering a free ticket to MacWorld in San Jose, and an offer to couch surf while there. So, after throwing her stuff in a bag, she charges down to the parking garage, puts her bag in the car, and realizes that she has no idea whatsoever where she is going. She doesn’t even know how to get out of the LA Basin.

So she goes up to the security guard in the garage and totally innocently asks:

Friend: “Do you know the way to San Jose?”

I work nights at a 24/7 fast food place. A guy comes in, and he’s obviously been drinking a bit.

Customer: “Can I get the extra bacon burger? Extra bacons!”

Me: “Sure!”

He hands me a card to pay.

Me: “Sir, that’s a bus pass.”

Customer: “Yeah, and there’s money on it. Just take it from that.”

Me: “I can’t do that, sir. We can only take regular payment cards.”

Customer: “That is a payment card.”

Me: “No, it’s a bus pass.”

Customer: “But it has money on it. I use it to ride the bus.”

Me: “Yes, and it’s designed to work on the city buses, but not in fast food restaurants.”

Customer: “So you’re telling me I put thirty bucks on this thing this morning and I can’t get it back out?!”

Me: “Not via us, no, sir. Only via the bus company.”

Customer: “That’s bull-s***! My money is on here, and I should be able to do whatever I want with it! I’m an American!”

Me: “Sir, unless you have cash or another payment card, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Customer: “Okay, try this one.”

Me: “Sir… that’s a Los Angeles County library card.”

Customer: “Yeah, and it gives you free entry to museums. I never go to museums, so take the museum credit and use that for my burger.”

Me: “Sir… I…” *At a loss for words.*

Customer: “Are you s***ting me?! This too?! What the f*** am I supposed to do?!”

Me: “Get the bus downtown, and in the morning, go to a museum.”

The customer glared at me and produced a crumpled pile of dollar bills from his back pocket. He was $3 short for his meal, but I gave it to him anyway just to get him out of there.

I’m a teenager working my first job in a fast-food place. I’m running around in the kitchen keeping a few jobs going at once, when I hear a commotion at the cashier station. We’re in a rough and low-income neighborhood, so we have a security guard at the door. He’s walking over.

Customer: *Shouting at the cashier.* “F*** you, you f****** piece of s***!”

Security Guard: “Calm down, sir.”

Customer: “You can’t f****** tell me to calm down! This mother-f****** needs his a** beat!”

Security Guard: “Sir, you need to leave right now, or I’m gonna make you.”

Customer: *Pointing at the cashier.* “You don’t f****** understand! This mother-f****** slept with my wife both times I was in prison!”

Cashier: “Yeah, ’cause each time I got out of there before you did!”

The security guard eases the customer out of the place, and my sixteen-year-old self got a very early lesson that older fast food workers in rough neighborhoods have got some stories…

I work in a big-box type store. My manager and I spot who we’re convinced is a Hollywood celebrity.

Manager: “It’s him! I’m sure it’s him!”

Me: “Yeah, it totally is. So weird to see him in person.”

Manager: “His last movie was so good. I’ll hold off on telling him that, though. I bet everyone tells him that. He must be so tired of having the same conversations with complete strangers over and over again.”

Me: “…I work checkouts for minimum wage.”

Manager: “Yeah, but have you won an Oscar?”

Me: “Every time I smile and look like I’m happy to serve my customers, I’m out-acting Meryl Streep.”

I submitted “The Secretest Santa That Ever Secreted“:

I had a field trip that happened in that same school year that I mentioned in the comments as an example of how I was one of the few impoverished students in a program full of wealthy (or wealthy-in-appearance) students and classmates–here is an elaboration on it.

We were sent downtown for this field trip. Rather than going on a school bus, this program preferred to have parents volunteer as chaperones. For this one, students were randomly assigned to a group of four to five, plus a parent. I had been given $5 for this field trip to buy lunch. We were poor (I was on the free lunch program), so while it wasn’t much, I appreciated it. The field trip was divided into two parts, with an hour-long lunch break in between.

When it was time for lunch, we got in the parents’ car and drove off; she asked the group if there was anywhere they’d like to go. We passed by an interesting-looking place, which I now know is the Grand Central Market. I suggested we get lunch there. The parent, knowing what I was referring to, said:

Parent: “No, that’s poor people’s food.”

Ultimately, she made the final decision as no one else in the group had suggested anything, none of the others being too familiar with the area either. We went to an area in the business district with no one else around that I could see and except at a Starbucks attached to an office building; we went there. Now, this was the late 2000s. In this area, at the time, Starbucks hadn’t been around for too long, so it was locally known as a place to get coffee more expensive (that is, classier and more sophisticated) than at other places, so it was popular among the wealthy and those who liked to appear wealthy, especially teenagers who wanted to look mature.

We all went inside. I don’t know if this was because Starbucks was more limited in its menu at that time or if it was a small location with a deliberately limited menu, but all it had for non-coffee items were cookies, some simple pastries under a heat lamp, and muffins. The only thing I could afford with the $5 on me was a cookie. Not in the mood to have a single cookie for lunch and nothing else, I walked out looking for anywhere else to eat in the area. There was nothing within sight except for this one place that was not only closed at the moment, but the menu posted outside had even more expensive stuff. I just sat on an unused chair in front of the Starbucks.

Eventually, everyone else in the group walked out with coffee. They had no solid food. The parent turned to me.

Parent: “You didn’t get anything?”

Me: “I couldn’t afford anything there, and I didn’t want just a cookie by itself.”

Parent: “I see. Well, I’m shocked. Shocked that you didn’t get anything. Oh well.”

She turned to the rest of the group and chatted about what they experienced in the first half of the field trip, while I continued to sit in that chair to kill time for the lunch break to end. They sat together at another table. I wasn’t going to tell anyone else during the second half of the field trip, knowing I would be mocked and teased about it to the end of the year over it.

I should’ve just accepted the cookie.