(I’m working in a small, high-end swimwear store. For reasons that I hope are obvious, we have a very strict “all sales final” policy on swimwear. Naturally, this policy doesn’t always go over well with our clientele, who are mostly middle-aged women with a lot of money and even more free time. On this particular day, the owner of the store is working in the office while I’m assisting customers. A woman in her 50s comes in with a plastic bag and makes a beeline for the register.)

Me: “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “I need to return this!”

(I cringe hearing the word “return,” but I take the bag from her and open it anyway. Sure enough, it’s a swimsuit, and one that we definitely have not sold in the six months that I’ve been with the company. The wrinkled tags and a crumpled, faded receipt are stapled to one of the straps.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t take this return.”

Customer: *instantly angry* “Why not?!”

Me: “We have a no-return policy on swimsuits; it says so right here on the receipt, and on signs throughout the store.”

Customer: “Well, surely you can make an exception. I never wore it so it’s as good as new, right?”

(I take the suit out of the bag and examine it more closely. Not only has it clearly been put through a washing machine at least once, but the leg holes and straps are badly stretched out.)

Me: “Ma’am, this has obviously been worn; see how the leg holes have been stretched?”

Customer: “Fine, I wore it, but only once for no more than an hour, and that’s how it looked after! You should give me my money back because it was badly made, definitely not worth the $200 I spent on it! It’s ugly, too. It looked nothing like it did in the advertisement here in the store!”

Me: “Again, ma’am, there’s really nothing I can do. We can’t accept returns on swimwear for sanitary reasons.”

Customer: “Well, how about this? I know the owner of this place, and I’m sure she wouldn’t be too happy to hear how you’re treating one of her oldest friends! I could have you fired, b****. What do you think of that?”

(At that moment, the owner leans out of the office behind me.)

Owner: “I think I’m not going to fire one of my most reliable employees for enforcing my policies. I also think that if you bought that suit expecting to look like the 20-something model in the advertisement in it, you’re a d*** fool and you deserve to be out $200; you didn’t even look like that when you were in your 20s!”

(The woman gapes at her for a moment before storming out, leaving the swimsuit behind. The owner picks it up, puts it back in the bag, and drops it in the trash before turning to me.)

Owner: “I’m sorry about her. I’ve known her since college and we’re still in the same social circles but we have never been friends. She was a stuck-up b**** then, and she’s a stuck-up b**** now.”

Me: “I can’t even begin to imagine how she thought that she was going to pass that off as new!”

Owner: “No doubt she was counting on you being as dumb as she is.”

(It snowed yesterday, turning into freezing rain overnight. I was an hour late coming into work last week — never set my alarm — so I have been very anxious trying to be on time or early every day since, so I run out the door without my snow boots, knowing it will only add time to my commute and make me even later. I make it to my car to find that the few inches of snow on my car are completely covered in ice. I text my bosses to let them know I am not going to be there on time due to the snow and ice, and I receive:)

Text From Boss: “Okay, drive safe.”

(In an effort to minimize how late I am going to be; I begin furiously chopping away at the ice. This is a difficult task, and my slip-on flats are exposing my feet to the elements. After about ten minutes, I decide it is time to get my boots. Walking probably quicker than I should back to my condo, I find myself lying on my back looking up at the sky with a sharp pain on the back of my head. I lay there for a few seconds, remember what my mission is, and scramble to my feet and onto the sidewalk. I swap out my footwear and shuffle back to the car. Once I break the car free, I text my bosses the update of my slip. While driving to work, I keep thinking about the pending “talk” with my boss and wonder if I am going to be fired. The minute I arrive at the office, 40 minutes late, I am surrounded by my bosses and coworkers, all of whom have adult children my age.)

Boss #1: “Oh, my gosh, are you okay?”

Coworker #1: “Do you think you have a concussion?”

Boss #1: “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Coworker #1: “Did you make it here okay?”

(I’m an overly emotional person, and after thinking I would get fired, the frustration with the snow and ice, and the startling slip with a hard hit on my head, I burst into tears.)

Boss #1: “Oh, no! What’s wrong?”

Coworker #1: “Are you hurt?”

Boss #1: “Are you okay?”

Coworker #1: “Aww, why are you crying?”

Boss #1: “Do you need a hug?”

(My boss offers a hug, saying I remind her of her daughter my age, and tells me to take a few minutes in the bathroom to clean up and compose myself. All is well after that. The rest of the day is sprinkled with ice and concussion jokes, but they also sincerely keep checking in on me and my head. At one point, one of my bosses asks how I am feeling as she is walking out the door.)

Boss #2: “Hey, are you okay? How’s your head?”

Me: “It’s fine, thank you.”

([Boss #2] starts to close the door behind her.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, [My Name], how many [Boss #2]s do you see?”

Me: “Well, none, since she’s out the door.”

Coworker #1: “Okay, good. If you said two or one-and-a-half, I was going to be concerned.”

Coworker #2: “What day is it?”

Me: “Wednesday.”

Coworker #2: “Who’s the president?”

Me: “Don’t remind me…”

Coworker #1: “Okay, good, she’s aware. Don’t remind her, [Coworker #2].”

Coworker #2: “I was just making sure.”

Me: “That concussion is looking better and better.”

(Later that day, I decided to look up the official weather policy. If schools are delayed two hours or more or are canceled, employees are allowed an extra hour to arrive safely. I was within the hour, so I breathed a sigh of relief reading that. At the end of the day, with [Boss #1] gone, I talked to [Boss #2] about what was running through my head that morning. I told her I was scared I was going to get fired, but she assured me that as soon as [Boss #1] saw the text that I slipped and hit my head, she was extremely concerned and no anger was present at all. I get to be employed another day, and my alarm has been preset earlier for every work day, so I hopefully won’t have to worry about being late again.)

My husband had a falling-out with his former best friend after the guy cheated on our other best friend. (She found him in bed with another woman and immediately left him.) Then, the woman he cheated with got pregnant. My husband has described this woman as “crazy,” “abusive,” and “manipulative.” He’s 99% sure she got pregnant just to keep her boyfriend from leaving. She drank alcohol during her pregnancy, and was seen in public with her baby, clearly under the influence.

At one point, she threw something heavy at her boyfriend’s head, giving him a black eye. She’s also a pathological liar, constantly telling everyone that she and her boyfriend got together after he had already broken up with his ex when everyone knows what really happened — the guy admits it.

Now this couple has decided to get married even though the guy clearly doesn’t want to be with her and had tried to get back together with his ex several times.

It’s the day before their wedding, and my husband asks him, “So, are you really going through with it?”

His reply: “Oh, yeah, she’s acting okay now.”

What a touching proclamation of love! Just what every bride wants to hear her husband say!

This one’s on me. For the past year or so, I’ve had five wonderful 10- to 12-year-old boys in my Minecraft classes, good friends who became closer through interacting on their computers. A sixth boy recently joined for the spring term, and I noted that he shared [Uncommon Last Name] with one of the previous students — who has a hyphenated name, but half of it is identical — and both of them listed [Mother’s Not-Too-Common First Name] [Uncommon Last Name] as their emergency contact. Naturally, I figured they were brothers…

…and managed to greatly upset the long-time student by telling him that. Probing further before the next class, I found that one student lived on the east end of the county while the other came from a more western city. You can bet I was extremely apologetic to the student in that next class!

Yes, there are two mothers with the same first and last name, with a son between 10 and 12, whose child has high-functioning mental challenges, who signed him up for the same class at the same time in a town neither of them lives in.

(I work in a coffee shop that’s most often frequented by the local youth and the occasional tourist. We have a loyal regular who is about 17 and shows up every day for a beverage on his way home from work, along with other times in the week. He is gay, very shy and soft-spoken, and usually wears something purple or pink. He has long hair and also wears eye shadow; his orientation is pretty clear. A customer in her mid- to late-50s is in the line adjacent to our regular, who is chatting with me in his casual, sweet tone and demeanor. These two are the only customers in the cafe. The lady snorts after taking a good long look at our regular, and then, after having her order taken, she follows him to the table he normally sits at.)

Customer: “You know, God sees you as a filthy, fornicating sinner!”

Regular: *flabbergasted* “Wh… What do you–”

Customer: “He hates your kind, you little [slur]. You and all your b****-boy kind. You’re all going to Hell unless you quit being little scum-bag, d**k-sucking [slur]s!”

(Our regular is stammering and starting to cry. I see a guy about [Regular]’s age who has just come in the door in time to hear everything, walk up angrily to the both of them, and then decide to step in. I see that this new fellow is wearing a cross necklace, and I can just see it getting worse for [Regular]. But before I can get out from behind the counter, I’m floored.)

New Guy: *stands between the woman and [Regular] and points a finger at her* “You’re the sickening one! Not only do you use foul language, but you have the audacity to tell someone God hates them. If you’ve ever read the Bible, you’ll know that Jesus loves all of us despite any flaws.”

Customer: “What?! You mean you stand with this little s***? You think don’t homosexuality is an abomination?”

New Guy: “I think exactly what the Bible says about it, but I also listened to the part where it tells us to love people unconditionally, especially the sinners.”

(This goes on for about another minute, with the new guy not once letting her get past him to even look at [Regular]. My manager leaves her office after hearing the commotion outside and tells the woman she needs to leave immediately.)

Customer: “You little b****! You’re trying to cheat me out of the coffee I bought!”

Manager: *angrily takes out about eight bucks worth of ones and change from her own pocket* “Take it and get the h*** out, or I’m calling the police!”

Customer: *grabs the money and starts to leave, lividly screaming on her way out* “You’re all going to Hell, you f****** heathens!”

(I turn from watching my manager to look at our new hero who turns around to finally face [Regular], who is crying quite hard at this point. He sits down next to him.)

New Guy: “Are you all right?”

Regular: “I think so.”

(The new guy looks at [Regular] for a moment, then leans in to hug him. They both stay that way for several minutes until [Regular] stops crying.)

New Guy: “Hey, for the record, there’s only one thing God can’t do, and that’s hating us.”

(This guy turned one of the worst days for [Regular] into one of the best! A little bit of love for fellow man goes a long way.)

This story is part of the Pride Month 2023 roundup!

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