(The foyer is getting noisy as customers exit a theatre that has finished screening, and popcorn is popping. I have just finished serving a lady and a few customers have built up behind her.)

Lady: *walking away* “Thank you!”

Me: *getting ready to say, “Next, please,” in a raised voice, but caught off guard by the lady’s “thank you,” I direct towards the next customer an unnecessarily aggressive* “THANK YOU!”

(I’m at one of my local supermarkets, and I’m trying to use a self-serve checkout to scan a tray of tiramisu that’s been marked down to 50% for quick sale. There are about three orange stickers with the marked-down price and barcode, but they all refuse to scan through. I look around for assistance, but I notice that the helper has left with a customer into the main product area. However, the loss prevention security guard notices me and walks over to see if he can help me.)

Security Guard: “You okay, brother?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m just trying to scan this through, but the barcodes don’t seem to be working.”

Security Guard: “Let me have a go. I know they can be tricky, but I always find a way.”

(He twists and turns the tiramisu and tries every possible angle to get the half-price barcodes to scan.)

Security Guard: “Ah, this one’s a bit tricky. The helper should be back soon. She’ll be able to type in the—”

(He notices the regular barcode and scans it through, so it now shows as full-price in my checkout.)

Me: “Um…”

Security Guard: “There we go.” *laughs* “Told you I could do it! Stay safe, brother!” *leaves*

(The helper returns a couple seconds later, and I point out the full-price sale to her and tell her what just happened.)

Helper: “Yeah, he kind of does stuff like that. But he’s a good security guard, though.”

(She voided the full-price sale and manually typed in the special half-price barcode.)

(I volunteer as a teacher’s aide at the same primary school as my father, who is in his late forties. We both have the same distinct last name, so everyone realizes that we’re related. Our exact relationship, however, confuses a lot of kids.)

Kid #1: “Hey, I know you! You’re [Dad]’s sister!”

Kid #2: “Are you [Dad]’s wife?”

Kid #3: “My friend told me that you were [Dad]’s mummy.”

(Finally…)

Kid #4: “Hey, aren’t you [Dad]’s daughter?”

Me: “Yes, I am. Not a lot of people think I’m his daughter right away. They think I’m his sister, or his wife.”

Kid #4: “But that’s weird. You’re really young, and he’s really old. He’s like eighty, or something!”

(So close, kid. So close.)

(I’m an attendant at a movie theatre, and we offer a service for people who are partially or fully deaf. They can utilise a piece of equipment that either enhances the volume through personal headphones, or displays captions on a personal monitor. However, the equipment is quite expensive, and thus we retain the customer’s license when we hand it out.)

Elderly Lady: *with husband* “Hello, we would like two senior tickets to [Movie], and may I have the audio enhancement?”

Me: “Of course. That will be [total], and do you have your driver’s license on you? I just need it to be able to hand over the equipment to you.”

Husband: *beginning to fume* “Her license?!”

Me: *a bit confused at his outrage, but happy to further explain* “Yes, the equipment is quite expensive, so we just need to retain the license while it’s in use; you will get it back as soon as the feature concludes.”

Husband: “That’s discrimination! Do you ask for other’s people licenses?!”

Me: “Yes, we require everyone to hand over their license.”

Husband: “So, because people have hearing difficulty, you need their license? That’s discrimination.”

Me: “People who have difficulty hearing are generally the people using the equipment, but the protocol would be the same for anyone who wished to use the equipment, also.”

(The wife, who remained placid throughout the exchange, now talked quietly to husband, who stepped aside again, still angry. She slid her license across the counter. I retrieved the equipment and completed the transaction, still a little unsure why he became so angry. She came out afterwards, praising both the movie and the equipment. He glared at me from across the foyer.)

(I am working in a large department store. We have staff discounts that also cover immediate family’s purchases. We aren’t allowed to serve family members or friends ourselves; the company is really strict about giving discounts. I get called to the counter.)

Coworker: “There’s a lady over there who asked for you; she said she’s a friend.”

(I recognise the lady as someone my sister knows; I barely know or even like her.)

Lady: “Hi, [My Name], I need to buy this stuff. Your sister said you’ll give me a discount.”

Me: “I can’t give you a discount.”

Lady: “Yes, your sister said you would; you can use your staff discount.”

Me: “No, I’m not allow to do that. Staff discounts can only be done by a manager, and only with family. It’s not up to [Sister] to promise that to you.”

Lady: “Well, tell the manager I am your sister.”

(It’s very obvious that we are different nationalities.)

Me: “The manager knows what my sister looks like, and you have just told [Coworker] that we’re friends; I can’t do it.”

(I knew that if I gave in to her that I would never see the end of it, and she and my sister’s other friends would be in constantly demanding discounts.)