(We don’t argue very often but when we do, my husband usually makes a comment that I should just pack up and leave. It’s never him doing the leaving; it’s always me — especially when the argument is not going his way. He’s following a pattern that I’ve seen his parents follow with each other. Saying anything about it just starts a whole new argument. We’ve had one of these arguments, he’s gone to work the next day, and I’ve stripped everything of mine out of the bedroom. I leave my drawers and wardrobe open for effect. Our teenagers have noticed and asked what I am doing as I carry everything to our back room.)
Me: “Oh, I’m just sorting through my clothes and stuff. I need to get rid of things and de-clutter.”
(I am sitting out, folding and sorting, when I hear my husband get home and go into the bedroom. A few moments later I hear him in the kitchen with my son.)
Husband: *very quietly* “Do you know where Mum is?”
Son: “Yeah, she is in the family room.”
(I don’t even acknowledge him as he looks in the door, just keep folding my clothes while watching TV. I think my passive-aggressive lesson worked; he’s never made a comment like that in the five years since.)
(I work in a call centre, selling raffle tickets to raise money for different type of charities. This call happens to be for a heart research institute.)
Me: “Good morning, sir. My name is [Name], and I’m calling on behalf of [Heart Charity].”
Potential Customer: “Sorry, don’t have one of them.” *click*
(It’s early morning and I pull into a fast food restaurant for a mocha. I usually buy it there, and have since as well.)
Me: “Can I have a mocha, please?”
Worker: “We don’t do that here”
Me: “You don’t make mocha anymore?”
Worker: “No, we only do coffee or hot chocolate. If you want anything fancy like mocha you will need to try elsewhere.”
Me: “Okay. Then can I have a coffee with a spoonful of chocolate powder mixed in, please?”
Worker: “Sure thing.” *makes my mocha*
(This takes place in a five-star hotel’s cocktail bar that people come into to show off to friends. This night, a young guy in a cheap, ill-fitting suit brings his date in. I can tell he is out of his comfort zone but still wants to put on a good show for his date.)
Me: “Hi, what can I get you to drink tonight?”
Customer: “I’ll have a [sickly sweet cocktail] for the lady, and a scotch on the rocks, with ice, for me.”
Me:”…okay, sure. Scotch on the rocks.”
Customer: “With ice, please.”
Me: “…”
(I work in a large store and have a bell on the counter for when we are working away from the counter. I am down the back of the store when I hear a customer talking loudly down near the front of the store.)
Customer: “HELLO… HELLO… HELLO!”
(I just ignore it, until the customer comes to find me.)
Customer: “I’ve been calling out, ‘hello,’ and no one’s come to serve me.”
Me: “Oh, I’m sorry; I just assumed you were talking on the phone. We have a bell on the counter.”
Customer: “Oh, I saw that.”
