(I am working as a server on a Saturday evening. It is rather slow, but it usually picks up from seven until closing. The policy for our restaurant is that booths can only be used to seat parties of three or more, due to the limited seating we have. A woman walks into the restaurant asking to be seated in a booth.)

Host: “Unfortunately, we can only seat parties of three or more in a booth. We have many tables available, as well as the bar.”

Customer: “I’d like to speak to your manager.”

(The manager arrives and asks what the problem is, then explains the policy to the customer.)

Customer: “YOU ARE TREATING ME LIKE A SECOND-CLASS CITIZEN!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry you feel that way, but it is policy, and we have many other tables available to you.”

Customer: “WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW IS COMPARABLE TO A PERSON OF COLOR BEING TOLD TO SIT AT THE BACK OF THE BUS! YOU ARE DISCRIMINATING. I WILL NOT PAY FOR ANY MEAL I EAT HERE!”

(The woman was white. If it had been up to me, I would have asked her to leave, but my manager caved and gave her a booth, much to the ire of the couple who we denied a booth, due to the policy, just moments prior to this woman showing up. And of course, guess who had to serve her?)

(I am interviewing a woman on a bench outside of my store. As we’re discussing her resume, a man comes up and shoves his resume in my face.)

Me: “Excuse me?”

Man: “Here’s my resume. You can interview me after, right?”

Me: “Um, sir, I’m doing an interview now. Can we talk after?”

Man: “Fine.”

(He stands there and refuses to move. Finally, the interviewee gets annoyed.)

Interviewee: “Sir, this is not how interviews work. You hand in a resume, respectfully, to the manager, and you meet when she wants, not when you decide to. And especially not when she’s interviewing someone else. If I were the manager, I would never hire someone so disrespectful as you are being right now!”

Man: “Shut up, you f****** b****!”

(I had to call security to escort the man away, and I hired the woman a few weeks later.)

(This is a memory of my husband, as he has since passed in July. I remember how whenever we went together into a store, we always came out with over $100 worth of items. If I went in alone, it was half of that. I used to pick on him about it, banning him from going in with me. We have a new dollar store open up in the town we shop in, and we decide to go, and this happens.)

Me: “Okay, now, we are going into the dollar store. There is no way in hell you can spend over $100 in this d*** place.”

Husband: “Shouldn’t.”

(We go in and do our shopping, and lo and behold, our total is over $100. We get back out to the truck. I put our daughter in her car seat then get in the front, crossing my arms and staring at my husband. He just starts laughing.)

Me: “You’re banned from [Dollar Store]. How the h*** did you do that?!”

Husband: “I don’t know!”

Me: “I can’t take you anywhere.”

(There is a new dollar store opening up, and to be honest, I’ll miss banning him from that one.)

(I am waiting at a doctor’s office. I have heard some crazy things at this place, but this is pretty nuts, even by their standards. A man is sitting in the waiting room, talking to the receptionist. He’s in his twenties.)

Man: “Can you give me some birth control?”

Receptionist: *looks at him a bit strangely* “Okay.”

Man: “Like, the copper thingy?”

Me: “That’s for girls.”

Man: “Jesus! Why are you so f****** sexist? You dumb b****! I can get it, too, if I want it!”

Receptionist: “Um, actually—”

Man: “I DON’T WANT TO GET PREGNANT!”

(I have been in contact with a local artist and jewelry maker to make a pair of custom wedding rings. We met in person a while ago to go over what I wanted, at which time she told me she would need to eventually take my engagement ring to make tracings, due to its unique shape. We then spend the next few weeks emailing back and forth to try to coordinate meeting up again, but due to the fact that she lives 45 minutes from where I work and over an hour from where I live, this is proving to be difficult. Finally, we get to this point…)

Artist: *in email* “Okay, why don’t you just mail me the ring? My address is [address].”

Me: *in email* “I don’t know that I’m comfortable mailing you my ring. I’m worried it might get lost or stolen. Can I just drive up after work on [date] and give it to you?

Artist: *in email* “Sure! Just leave it in my mailbox.”

(I decide this would be all right, so on the day I promised, I drive up to her house. When I get there, I see she is actually home and outside in her front yard, close to the street, so I approach her.)

Me: “Hi, [Artist]!”

Artist: *not recognizing me* “Hi… Can I help you?”

Me: “I’m here to drop off my ring. I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”

Artist: *suddenly clicking* “Oh! [My Name]! I didn’t recognize you. Sure, let me take that.”

(A few weeks go by, and she emails me again to say the rings are done and that she will be in [Town where I work] on a day that week. We arrange to meet in a café at a specific time. I walk to the café and get there a few minutes early. I quickly spot her, but she is sitting with who I assume is another client, talking. The tables are very small, so instead of trying to butt my way in to their meeting, since I am early, anyway, I grab a table right next to theirs and wait for her to be done. I make eye contact with her just as I’m sitting down, so I assume she has seen me and will be done soon. I order tea, and the time we were supposed to meet passes. Finally, I overhear this part of their conversation.)

Artist: “Yeah, she should be here any minute.”

(I freeze, realizing that she didn’t recognize me when we made eye contact, and hasn’t seen me despite me being at the table right next to them. I am about to get up and say something to her when she continues…)

Artist: “She’s so funny. We only met once in person, and then she just showed up out at my house, completely unannounced, expecting I would know who she was!”

Client: “Oh, that’s… kind of creepy.”

(I can’t believe what I am hearing! She is talking about me to a complete stranger and making me out to be a creep! I have no idea what I should do at this point… If this stranger already thinks that I’m a creep, what will she think if I stand up and reveal I have been sitting right behind them and eavesdropping this whole time? I keep sipping my tea and consider just leaving, until…)

Artist: “[My Name]?!”

(I looked up and they were both staring at me, so I immediately jumped up and came over to their table. I quickly got through trying on the rings, writing a check, paying for my tea, and leaving, all while trying to be as friendly and not-creepy as possible!)