I’m nineteen, but I barely drink. I just don’t like it. My mom encourages me to drink, because “I’m a grownup now,” so she brings bottles of alcohol home for me occasionally.

Mom: “I can’t believe you won’t even drink anything other than a mimosa. You haven’t even opened the Kahlua I got you, and you love coffee. There’s no reason you shouldn’t like Kahlua!”

Me: “Like what?”

Mom: “Kahlua.”

Me: “Killua? Like from the anime?”

Mom: “KAHLUA…”

She gets the little brown bottle from the fridge.

Mom: “KAHLUA!”

Me: “I… I thought that was steak sauce.”

In my defense, the bottle design looks like it should be a sauce, and I don’t like sauces so I never investigated it. Also, I never thought there’d be a day where a mom begged her child to stop watching cartoons and start drinking.

I work in concessions. I’m alone for this shift, and there’s a very long line.

Customer: “Can I get one small—” *mumbles* “—and one medium—” *mumbles*

The mumbles sound sort of like “popcorn,” and as this is a movie theater, I make an educated guess.

Me: “All right, I’ve got a small popcorn and a medium popcorn. Anything else for you?”

Customer: “That’s all.”

Me: “Okay, two popcorns, a small and a medium. That comes out to [total].” 

The customer pays, and I get the popcorn for them and bring it up to the counter.

Customer: “Oh, I wanted a small and a medium Icee.”

I am a customer in a gas station owned by people from the Middle East. I don’t know where they’re from exactly, but English is not their first language. Our county has a mask mandate, and businesses that don’t comply will be fined $400. I’m in the back getting my energy drinks when I hear a commotion.

Cashier: “Mask, sir! Mask, please!”

Customer: *Smiling* “Nope! I don’t have to wear one.”

Cashier: *Pointing to a sign* “Mask please to be in here.”

Customer: *Still weirdly happy* “There’s no mask mandate starting today; the chamber of commerce said so. You don’t have to ask me to wear one anymore, so don’t worry about it.”

The cashier is obviously confused and trying to figure out what he means, so I jump in.

Me: *To the customer* “That’s not true; the mandate is still in effect.” *To the cashier* “He’s still saying no.”

Cashier: *Frustrated* “Mask, PLEASE!”

Customer: “No! Your boss is just making your life harder by making you ask that dumb question. Your boss is [White-Sounding Name], right? He owns all the [Gas Station]s, so he owns this one, too! I’ll call him and tell him to let me not wear my mask because I don’t have to!”

The cashier looks back at me for an explanation of what this guy’s talking about.

Me: *To the cashier* “He said he knows your boss, so he doesn’t have to wear a mask.”

Cashier: “No! I boss! We boss!” *Gestures to the backroom*

The customer looks at me. I guess I’m a translator now. Also, a small line has been forming, staring uncomfortably at this s***show.

Me: *To the customer* “This is a family-owned business. [White-Sounding Name] isn’t the owner; this man’s family is. You have to wear a mask.”

Customer: “No! I can’t believe you’re trying to make his job harder by making him enforce a stupid rule.”

Me: “He could get fined if the police saw you in here without a mask.”

Cashier: “Police? Fine? Please don’t! No police! Please! $400!”

Me: “No, it’s okay!” *To the customer* “He shouldn’t get fined because you’re being stubborn. Can’t you just pay and leave?”

Customer: “No, I want him to know he doesn’t have to—”

Me: *Finally snapping.* “THERE’S A LINE! Please! I wanna buy my drink! People want gas!”

Customer: “FINE!”

There was no “everyone clapped” moment or anything, but now they charge my energy drinks as $1.00 fountain sodas, so that’s neat, I guess.

My husband and I recently bought a home and property, and we have an apple orchard. We own the whole orchard, but we let our neighbors take as many apples as they want. One day, my neighbor comes up to me.

Neighbor: “How do you know [Woman Whose Name I Don’t Recognize]?”

Me: “I don’t. Who is that?”

Neighbor: “Oh, she’s a local crazy. She’s been taking some of your apples from the orchard. I’ll tell her to stop.”

Me: “Please do. I only let certain people take some apples.”

A few days later, I’m sitting with the door open when a big SUV rolls right over my mailbox and a lady sticks her head out and starts shouting at me. Then, she takes off.

A few days after that, I’m working on my car outside when the same SUV pulls up and the same woman gets out.

Woman: “I demand that you give me some apples!”

Me: “Whoa. First of all, who are you?”

Woman: “I’m [Woman]. My parents owned this house before those other people stole it and then you bought it. So I demand apples!”

Me: “No way. This house and land were legally bought and purchased, along with the apple orchard. So get off my property now, before I call [Sheriff].”

The woman spits out an angry tirade of random words and then gets back in her SUV, nearly runs over the cat, and drives away.

She still tries to steal apples from our orchard, but now we’ve installed video cameras to catch her and any other would-be thieves. She was warned to stay away several times by neighbors and police, but she insists that the house and land rightfully belong to her.

A customer orders at the drive-thru.

Customer: “I want a caramel macchiato frappuccino.”

This is not a real thing.

Me: “Okay, so you want a caramel frappuccino with espresso poured on top?”

Customer: “No! I want a caramel macchiato frappuccino! I get this every day!”

She doesn’t.

Me: “Ma’am, we make caramel frappuccinos and we make caramel macchiatos; they are two different beverages. One is hot; one is cold.”

Customer: “I SAID I WANT A CARAMEL MACCHIATO FRAPPUCCINO!”

Me: “All right.”

I make a caramel frappuccino and pour espresso on top because that is what macchiato is. The customer pays for beverage and snatches her drink before speeding away, only to turn right back around in the parking lot and stomp into the café, shaking the beverage in my face.

Customer: “WHAT IS THIS?!”

Me: “That is a caramel macchiato frappuccino.”

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