My grandmother has two biological children: my dad and his younger brother. When her sons were in their teens, my grandmother got remarried to a man who also had two sons from his previous marriage that are pretty close in age to my dad and uncle. It’s also important to note here that she has several grandchildren; however, I am her only biological one because I’m an only child and my bio-uncle never had any kids. I was also raised to be very close to the daughter of one of my step-uncles since we’re only a few months apart in age.

When I’m about eight, my grandmother decides to plan a summer trip to visit the Mouse.

Me: “Can we bring [Cousin], too, Maw Maw?

Grandmother: “No, it’s just going to be the two of us.”

Me: “Why not? She’s going to be upset; she’s never been and I’ve already been once. And, wouldn’t it be more fun?”

Grandmother: “Because she’s not really one of us. That’s something you really should start to realize now that you’re getting to be a big boy. I don’t know why [Dad] ever raised you so close to them to begin with. Anyway, I just want to spend some time with my grandson before you stop wanting to spend time with me.”

This was definitely not the last remark she made about my step-cousins, and it wasn’t long after this that she started putting more pressure on me by calling me her “only grandchild,” and she wonders why I never go out of my way to spend time with her anymore. I can’t wait until I can get to a point where I can safely cut her off completely. And, yes, my cousin and I are still very close!

I work in a local jewelry shop and a mother approaches the counter with three small kids in tow. Our jewelry counter has an opening in the middle where our sales computer is. The mother is taking her time inspecting every piece of jewelry while her children are running wild, screaming and crying and wrestling with each other, and banging on our glass cases.

Me: “Excuse me, guys. You can’t wrestle in here. You could get very hurt.”

The small children get very shy and start to calm down. Mom at this point has finally selected the pieces she would like to put into layaway and I start explaining the process to her. I suddenly hear something fall over and it looks like one of the kids knocked over one of our displays. Thankfully, it was plastic but they still could get very hurt. I look at the mom and, of course, she isn’t watching her “things.”

Mom: *Texting on her phone* “Stop, guys.”

Me: “Ma’am, they could get very hurt. Could you please watch them just a bit closer? The display nearly fell on them.”

Mom: “Yeah, okay, sure. Just hurry up. I have somewhere to be at two.”

Clearly, she doesn’t care nor is she interested in the fact that her children are being little monsters. I’m trying my best to hold back my eye-roll and go to grab her paperwork. All I do is walk to the opposite end of the store where the printer is, and when I come back, the children are now behind the counter, banging on the cases, trying to open the doors to the jewelry, and throwing our smaller displays for rings and necklaces around. I’m in awe that this woman hasn’t even looked up from her phone to acknowledge the fact her kids are behind the counter.

Me: “You guys can’t be back here! Please go back around! Stop throwing those; they aren’t yours!”

Mom: “Don’t yell at my kids! I’ll have you know I chose to spend my money here and not at [Competitor], and they don’t yell at my kids! This is ridiculous! They probably wouldn’t be bored had you hurried up! We could be out of here by now!”

Me: “They can’t be back here trying to open our cases and destroying our property. They had already knocked down a display and I asked you to please watch them.”

Mom: “I want your manager, and I want compensation for the potential injury that could have happened to my children!”

I run to the back to grab my manager, who is also the owner, and explain the situation. She informs me that she has been watching behind the two-way mirror.

Owner: “Ma’am, I cannot allow this sale to happen. I have heard you just as well as seen you yell at my employee instead of at your rambunctious children. I have watched your children knock over our items and run behind the counter. I would like you to please exit our store.”

She walked out the door, leaving her children still in the store. She ended up coming back in and screaming for her kids to “get in the f****** car.” I’ve haven’t seen her or her kids again.

It’s a few minutes before four when my supervisor turns to me. 

Supervisor: “Can you cover [Coworker] in gardening for her break?”

Me: “Actually, I’m out now.”

Supervisor: “Oh! What was your shift today?”

Me: “Ten to four.”

Supervisor: “Can you stay?”

Me: “Well, my husband just got home today and I haven’t seen him all week—”

Supervisor: “GIRL, GO.”

My whole life, I’ve always been prone to getting nosebleeds. Thankfully, the issue has gotten better as I’ve grown up, but as a kid, anything from stress to a drop in humidity, to the lightest bonk on the nose was enough to set it off. After being assured by my pediatrician that, as long as the bleeds didn’t last too long or happen too often, I was fine and would likely grow out of it, my parents and I quickly learned how to properly take care of them and how to get them to stop more quickly.  

One year, when I’m about ten or so, I attend a local summer camp. I can’t recall the exact catalyst for this nosebleed — if there even was one — but I’m stuck in the bathroom for several minutes trying to get it to stop. Eventually, a counselor finds me and goes pale.

Counselor: “Oh, my God! What happened?!”

Me: “Just a nosebleed. I get these sometimes. I’m all right.”

Counselor: “I’m going to bring you to the front office, just to be safe, okay?”

Not really given a choice in the matter, I’m begrudgingly pulled up to the front office after I clean myself up.

Camp Director: “Okay, [My Name], I think we’re going to call your mom about this.”

Me: “Really, you don’t have to worry about this. It’s normal for me and she knows it!”

Camp Director: “We just need to make sure, kid.”

I can hear my mom through the phone as they talk.

Mom: “Hello?”

Camp Director: “Hello, Mrs. [Mom]. It’s [Camp Director] from [Camp]. I’m just calling because [My Name] had a nosebleed?”

Mom: “Is he not able to get it to stop?”

Camp Director: “No, no, it’s stopped.”

Mom: “Did it ruin his clothes? Do I need to bring extras over?”

Camp Director: “No, those are fine, as well.”

Mom: “Did he not tell you that these are normal for him and that he knows how to deal with them?”

Camp Director: “Well, he did but we just wanted to be sure—”

Mom: “Well, you can be sure by actually listening to the kids sometimes.”

She hung up and I was sent back with my group.

Looking back, I see that my mother was a lot ruder than she needed to be to a woman who was just worried about my health, but at least it taught her to note my nosebleeds whenever she signed me up for anything else so that we were both left alone after that!

I’m picking up pizza from a local pizza place. There’s no one inside and no one at the counter, so I ring the bell. I can hear two people arguing in the kitchen. Their conversation is barely intelligible until I hear the following.

Owner: “I DON’T CARE WHAT THE LAW SAYS! I SAY YOU’RE FIRED! GET OUT OF MY RESTAURANT! OUT! NOW!”

A VERY pregnant-looking woman darts out of the kitchen, crying as she storms past me and out the door. The owner follows her out the door, continuing to scream at her for a minute or two before coming back in.

Owner: “Sorry for the delay. You’re here for a pickup?”

Me: “Yes. But what was that all about?”

Owner: “Just putting a lazy whore in her place. Anyway, could I get the name for the order?”

I gave him the order name, paid for my pizzas, and left without saying another word. I never went back, because I wasn’t going to do business with him again after the way he treated that woman and the comment he made about her. Two months later, I was driving past and noticed the pizza place was closed. From what I was told by my friend who works in the same shopping center, the owner lost a wrongful termination lawsuit against the pregnant woman, and he had to shut the business down to pay her damages and legal fees.