(I’ve just met my daughter’s boyfriend for the first time after they’ve been dating for over a year, and he’s just brought us home from lunch with his parents. I’m in the back seat and the kids are saying goodbye, and there’s a fairly intense look between them.)

Boyfriend: *suddenly turning around* “Well, it was nice to finally meet you.”

Me: *taking the hint* “You, too.”

(I get out of the car and go to the door to wait for her.)

Me: *once she’s joined me* “Tell him I don’t mind if you kiss in front of me, but I appreciate the subtlety.”

(I work fast food. Normally, I open the store, but tonight I’m closing. I’m working with a Mexican man and a Somalian man. I don’t look it, but I’m a Native American woman. We are allowed to play our music in the back, as long as it isn’t too disruptive. I’m doing dishes, playing music on the little speakers, when the Somalian man comes and tries to turn it off without asking me. I stand up for myself, and this conversation ensues.)

Coworker: “You’re not letting me play my music because I’m black! You’re racist!”

Me: “Wow, really? Good job on being racist yourself.”

Coworker: “What? You can’t say I’m being racist! I read about this; there’s no such thing as reverse racism!”

Me: “While we’ll agree to disagree on that, you are, in fact, being racist. I’m Native, not white. You tried to judge me on my skin color. That’s racism. If you were doing dishes back here I wouldn’t care if you played whatever music you wanted. But you’re not. I am. I never play my music, so how about you suck it up for two more hours and deal with it, or grab a pair of headphones and listen to your own music?”

(That shut him up very quickly. And thankfully, the next night he realized he was being a jerk and apologized!)

(This takes place on the playground at recess in second grade. My friend and I have built a snow fort.)

Friend: *yelling to the boys in our class* “WHO WANTS TO BE KING?!”

Boys: *all raise hands*

Friend: *still yelling* “THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO MARRY ME!”

Boys: *all scream and run away*

(I decide to try out a new restaurant that just opened a few days ago a couple of blocks from my apartment. After taking a look at their menu, I order a buffalo chicken sandwich. Despite the place not being at all busy, it takes about fifteen minutes for my food to be delivered to my table. When I cut my sandwich in half, I discover that the chicken breast is still raw in the middle. I flag down the server and show her the sandwich, and she takes the plate back into the kitchen to be remade. This time, it takes about 20 minutes for me to get my food, and it is delivered by the manager, who apologizes for the inconvenience. After he leaves the table, I cut open the sandwich and it is even rawer than the first one they made. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the sandwich. The manager notices what I am doing and comes over.)

Manager: “Is there something wrong?”

Me: “Take a look for yourself.” *turns the plate so he can see the raw chicken*

Manager: “Oh, I’m so sorry. Let me get that fixed for you right away.”

Me: “No, thanks. At this point, I’m not going to eat anything that comes out of this kitchen. I’ll get my lunch elsewhere.”

Manager: “Okay, I’ll be right back with your bill.”

Me: “My bill?”

Manager: “Yes, it’ll just be a moment.”

Me: *standing up to leave* “I’m not paying you for raw chicken.”

Manager: *as I’m leaving* “Then I’ll have to call the police.”

Me: “Go ahead and do that if you feel you need to. I’ll be over at [Old Restaurant].”

(About half an hour later, I was just finishing my lunch at the second restaurant when a police officer came in and asked if I’d been at [New Restaurant] that morning. I told her that I had, explained what had happened, and showed her the picture I’d taken of the raw sandwich. I gave her my name, address, and phone number for her report and she left. A couple of weeks later, I was walking past [New Restaurant] and I saw a sign on the front door: “Closed by order of City Health Inspector.” They never reopened.)

(I have ordered some flavor syrups from a Wisconsin-based online retailer. The phone call goes smoothly with me providing all the necessary information I need to place the order. The order arrives in the mail a few days later and I notice that one of the tamper-proof bands on one of the syrup bottles is broken as if it has been opened, so I call them back to see if they can do anything to remedy this.)

Representative: “Thank you for calling [Company] Gourmet. How can I help you today?”

Me: “I received my order and one of the seals on the peanut butter flavors has been broken. I was wondering if I could return it and order a replacement.”

Representative: “That sometimes happens in the warehouse. One of the workers must have accidentally dropped it or broken the seal unintentionally. If you want, we can send you a whole new order to make up for it.”

Me: “That’s not necessary. I just want to return this one and hopefully get it replaced.”

Representative: “No problem. We can send you another bottle of the peanut butter flavor. Feel free to either keep the one you have or dispose of it if you don’t feel comfortable using it.”

(I gave them the necessary information and they said they’d send it free of charge. When the shipment arrived, I noticed it was heavier than normal, so I opened it to find three additional bottles of syrup and a few of the bottle tops that included a pump dispenser. I called them back and they said I could keep the entire new order they sent me, free of charge. Whoever you are, thank you. You’ve really gone over the top to make a customer happy with your brand and service.)