Our shop closes at 12:00pm on Saturdays, and on this particular day, we have workmen doing some work to the wall near the front door. We have everything taped off with plastic wrap and the front lights are off. Additionally, the hours are printed in large lettering right on the front door at eye level.

I have stayed to keep an eye on things and lock up when the workmen are done. At about 1:00pm, a customer walks in the door, ignoring all of the plastic wrap and darkened front lights, to stride up to the front desk (which is also covered in plastic wrap).

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but we’re closed. You’ll need to come back tomorrow.”

Customer: “I just need to pick up my order.”

Me: “I understand that, but you cannot pick it up right now. We are closed.”

Customer: “The door wasn’t locked.”

Me: “Because we have construction work going on right now.” *gestures around at workmen and plastic wrap draping everything* “The guys need to use the door to get back and forth from their truck, but we closed at noon.”

Customer: “Can’t you just help me get my order?”

I look to see if we have it ready, thinking I can just have her sign the receipt and then we can check it out in the computer on Monday, but there is a balance due.

Me: “Unfortunately, ma’am, it appears you will owe [amount] before you can take it with you. Our computers have been shut down and the power to this area is off for the work to be done. I can’t check you out because of this. You’ll have to come back during normal business hours for the transaction.”

Customer: “But I came here today! I need to pick up my order!”

Me: *firmly* “Ma’am, we are closed and cannot assist you today. Please come back Monday morning for your order.”

Customer: “Fine.” *sighs loudly and storms out the door*

During my junior year of high school, my school decided to invite a scientist of some sort that studied the effects of climate change to come to talk to all of us. Sounds cool, right? That’s what we all thought, especially since they took up an entire class period’s worth of time for it, but we were all so wrong. This presentation went wrong on so many levels.

For starters, I’m not sure where the presenter was from, but he had a very thick accent and monotone voice and that, combined with the echoey-ness of the gym my whole school was crammed into, meant that we could barely make out a third of what he was saying.

Second, of the words we could understand, a lot of it was jargon that was quite a bit above most of our high-school brains and he had complete paragraphs on his slides you could barely read from a distance that also used a lot of the same jargon.

The most interesting part of the presentation was when the guy’s slides stopped working and IT had to come out to troubleshoot.

The next day, the administration apologized to us and praised us for being so good throughout the assembly. I’m still honestly not sure if they realized half of us fell asleep during it, which is why we were so “good.”

This happens during our first “remote learning” class meeting with our statistics teacher after the quarantine starts. She’s trying to explain how things are going to go when she’s interrupted by her six-year-old daughter. We can only hear our teacher’s side of the conversation.

Teacher: “What? No!” *Back to us* “Sorry, guys. [Daughter] wanted to have cookies for breakfast.”

Classmate: “Oh! I had cookies for breakfast!”

Teacher: “NO! DON’T TELL HER THAT!”

The store’s phone rings right as a customer walks in. I speak to the caller.

Me: “Hi, this is [Store], [My Name] speaking. Can you please hold on a second? Someone just walked in.”

Caller: “Sure, no problem, sweetie. Take your time.”

I lay the phone on the counter and smile at the customer as he approaches the counter.

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

The customer approaches, pulling out a credit card.

Customer: “I need $50 on pump number two.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t prepay fuel with a credit card. You can either leave your card with me as collateral or pay at the pump.”

Customer: *Suddenly livid* “Then why the h*** does it say, ‘PREPAY ONLY,’ on your pumps?”

Me: “It’s for cash customers, sir.”

Customer: *Shouting* “Then why doesn’t it say, ‘Cash customers prepay’?”

Me: “I’m not sure, sir. I didn’t print up those signs. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you who did, either.”

Customer: “FINE! WHATEVER!”

He stomps out and starts fiddling with the pump and I pick up the phone.

Me: “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am.”

Customer: “That’s okay, honey. Can you see if you have any flour?”

Me: “Sure.”

I walk around the counter and, right as I take one step down the aisle where the flour is kept, the customer storms back in the store and glares at me, before yelling.

Customer: “I can’t get the stupid, d***ed thing to work!”

He throws money at me.

Customer: “There’s fifty dollars in cash! Set the g**d***ed pump!”

Me: *Smiling* “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”

I apologize to the caller again as I set his pump. I go back in search of the flour, but before I can confirm it, the customer stomps into the store again, screaming and pointing an accusing finger at me.

Customer: “And you need to stay off that f****** phone when you’ve got a g**d*** customer!”

I rub my temples.

Me: “Sir, the person on the phone is a customer, too.”

Customer: “Whatever! F*** you, you stupid, lying b****!”

I sigh.

Me: “Have a good day, sir.”

I wait until he drives off before I attempt to talk to the caller again.

Me: “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am. We do have flour.”

Caller: “Thank you, honey. And I’m sorry that you got screamed at because I called you.”

Me: *Laughing* “Oh, it’s okay, ma’am. It’s not your fault he’s stupid.”

I am fourteen years old and not very assertive. I go to a rollerskating rink with a friend who’s a year younger than me. My friend spots a few friends of hers and goes off briefly to skate with them, but while she’s gone, I trip on the skating rink and end up hurting my elbow. My friend comes up, and I tell her that I think I’ll be okay. I sit at a booth on the edge of the rink, but the pain doesn’t fade and feels pretty bad.

I approach the concession stand. Half a dozen employees are there, and they all pause to look at me.

Employee: “Hi. What can we get you?”

Me: “I fell on the rink and hurt my elbow…”

The employees immediately scattered and started doing other things. I stood there for an instant, hoping they would come back to me, but they didn’t.

I left and sat back down, unsure what to do. I eventually got back up, went back to the stand, and specifically asked for some ice. They gave me some in a cup. I sat back down and waited for my friend’s mom to pick us up.

When I told my dad about it later, he suggested that the employees didn’t want to be liable for my accident, so that’s why they ignored me. I wonder why the employees would expect a fourteen-year-old girl to sue them.