It’s my first day working at a very small office. I don’t really have a specific role; I just do whatever is needed. My boss asks me to make a “shopping list” with all the office supplies we’ll need during the month, and their respective prices taken from the stores’ websites. I present a list of $208 worth of items. 

The next day, my boss takes the list but goes to a completely different store that I hadn’t considered in my research, and ends up buying other things. Between these discrepancies and some sales, her total spending comes up to… $208.10. She laughed and said she should’ve taken me to the casino for good luck.

(I’m a licensed nurse. I work at a hospital, and I also make some money on the side by assisting a dermatologist at a private clinic when she needs an extra pair of hands for surgery. This patient has a cyst under the skin beneath her hair.)

Patient: “You have done this before?”

Me: “Sure! It’s actually pretty simple. We make an incision on your skin right here, drain the cyst, clean around, and sew you back up. I’m going to numb the area, so you won’t even feel a thing.”

Patient: “All right, then.”

Me: “Uh… look, honey, I’m going to have to shave your hair — a tiny spot right here — so that the doctor can see. I know, I know you won’t like that — no girl ever does — but I have to. Don’t hate me!”

Patient: *shrugs*

Me: *cuts the hair, and shaves the area*

Patient: *completely deadpan* “Oh, no, look at what you’ve done. Now I hate you.”

(My wife and I have been married twenty years and never taken a vacation for just us. We both have just recently “graduated” after going back to school to further our education for our careers. Our kids are older, allowing my father-in-law to watch them, just making sure they get hot food, and get to school and sports. Some good friends of ours get a great package deal for an all-inclusive resort in Mexico that they have been to before and want to know if we want in on the special rates. So, off we go on a seven-day trip to Mexico with some good friends. About the third day in Mexico, I am at the resort shop buying some odds and ends and have already noticed the sign that shows the exchange rates between pesos and other forms of currency they accept. I see the price tag and then do the math using the posted exchange rate. As I am paying the very polite cashier, I hear a rude woman just lose it on one of the employees.)

Rude Customer: “HOW CAN YOU CHARGE SO MUCH?! I AM NOT PAYING 95 US DOLLARS FOR THIS SHOT GLASS!”

Employee: “No, that is—”

Rude Customer: “WHAT? I DON’T UNDERSTAND! CAN’T YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?!”

Employee: “Yes, English, price is…”

Rude Customer: “SPEAK ENGLISH!”

(I have had enough.)

Me: “Ma’am, as the employee started to tell you twice in English, the sticker is the amount in pesos. The exchange rate is posted right here.” *pointing to sign next to register*

Rude Customer: “WHY WOULD IT BE IN PESOS?”

Me: *laughing* “We are in Mexico… and pesos are the currency in this country. No wonder Americans get a bad reputation for being rude.”

Rude Customer: *glaring at me and muttering* “What do you Canadians know, anyway?”

Me: “Lady, who said I am Canadian? I am from the Midwest, the heartland of the USA, and you are just being rude.”

(With that, I went and enjoyed my vacation, just wondering how someone could be so entitled and rude.)

(I’m at an ice cream shop, next in line to get my order. The customer before me has just paid for his ice cream and the employee hands him his change. She gives him a roll of coins with his receipt. He stares at her blankly.)

Employee: “Is there a problem, sir?”

Customer: “What is this?”

Employee: “Your change, sir.”

Customer: “My change? I gave you a bill and you give me this thing? What is this?”

Employee: *takes the roll of coins* “I can unwrap it if you like sir; there are 25 pesos here.” *starts to unwrap the coins*

Customer: “No, no, no! I just don’t understand! I gave you a 100-peso bill and you gave me this thing! What is this?!”

Employee: “Sir? It’s… your change; they’re coins…”

Customer: “Forget it! Just give me my bill back. I don’t want anything. I don’t understand! Why are you doing this to me?!”

My best female friend is a waitress at a small restaurant. Just another waiter and the owners man the kitchen. My friend is very obviously of Asian descent and her coworker has been harassing her, telling her that he has never slept with an Asian girl and that he wants her to be his first. My friend repeatedly reports him to the owner, but he just tells her that she can live with it.

I’m at her restaurant waiting for her to finish her shift when her coworker makes yet another inappropriate comment. My friend, red with anger, approaches him and hits him as hard as she can in the groin. The guy is in so much pain he can’t breathe, and my friend grabs his hair and pulls him towards her and says, “If you ever talk to me like that again, I will make sure you’ll leave no kids behind.”

By this moment, one of the owners has come out to see what’s going on, and quickly realises what happened. He shouts at my friend that she can’t do that, and that her coworker is in so much pain he can’t even breathe. Her answer? “If I can live with his harassment, he can live with the pain.”