(I am a British tourist visiting New York City. I am waiting at a subway station in Queens, when a woman approaches me.)

Woman: “Excuse me; what trains do I need to get to [Place]?”

(As it turns out, I am very familiar with the subway system.)

Me: “Oh, you just need to take [trains and stations].”

Woman: “Gee. Thanks! Hey, you’re from England, right?”

Me: “Yes.”

Woman: “Whereabouts?”

Me: “Oh, Folkestone in Kent. About an hour or so from London.”

Woman: “Do you know [Name]? She lives in Stoke-on-Trent!”

(Stoke-on-Trent is about 230 miles and four hours drive from Folkestone.)

Me: “No. I don’t, I’m afraid.”

Woman: “Oh, she’s only just moved there. You’ll probably meet her at the store or something! England’s such a small country. Say hi to her for me! My name’s [Her Name]!”

(I work at a restaurant in a very rich town, in which I also live. I am getting my hair done at a ‘posh’ salon when I see one of my regulars from the restaurant sitting in the first chair.)

Me: “Hello Mrs. [Customer]. Good to see you.”

Customer: “Oh, hel— Aren’t you my waitress from the place down the road?”

Me: “Yes, I am. How are you doing today?”

Customer: “I didn’t know people like you were allowed in a place like this.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

(At this point my stylist comes over to bring me to her station.)

Customer: *to stylist* “Honey, did you know this girl is a waitress? Are you sure she has enough money to pay? You may want to check before you start serving her.”

Stylist: “Ma’am, [My Name] has been a client here for two years. She’s very reliable.”

Customer: “Oh, my. What a waste of money. Poor girls like you should not be wasting their money on things like this. Don’t you have a child to care for or something of the like?”

(At this point everyone in the salon is quite uncomfortable and is staring at the three of us.)

Me: “I’m so sorry, Mrs. [Customer]. I actually only work at the restaurant because I don’t like to spend my time being unproductive. You see, I am a college student at [Very Prestigious College]. I am currently studying to be a biomedical engineer, which I’ll have you know is the second top-grossing career currently. And since it seems to matter to you so much, I’m quite financially comfortable! And even if I were a poor waitress, as you so kindly suggested, people are free to do whatever they like with the money they work so hard for! Your husband comes in twice a week to get coffee and sit at our counter and complain about you! So really, Mrs. [Customer], I’m very, very sorry for you.”

(I am out with my two young sons when I run into a friend. We get on the topic of him taking a girl out on a first date in New York City.)

Friend: “I was thinking of taking her on a buggy ride in Central Park, followed by a romantic dinner, and then a Broadway musical.”

Me: “Ooh, nice.”

(My six-year-old son decides to interject.)

Son: “Excuse me. Can I say something?”

Me: “No. Go play with your brother.”

Friend: “That’s okay. Let’s hear it.”

Me: “You will regret this.”

Friend: “Let the kid talk.”

Son: “Uhm, buggy ride? Are you crazy? It’s stinky and it’s bumpy. That girl will not like to eat dinner after a buggy ride.”

Friend: “Have you been on a buggy ride?”

Son: “Plenty of times. My brother loves it. But it’s the most disgusting thing in New York City. You see the horse’s butt the entire time. Stinky. And the ride is so bumpy you get a bellyache, and you wanna throw up.”

Friend: “So, I’ll skip the buggy ride, then?”

Son: “I’m not finished. Why don’t you have dinner first? Then, if your girl is being nice, take her to Broadway. If she’s not nice, then you take her to the buggy ride.”

Friend: “And the reason for the buggy ride is…?”

Son: “So she throws up! Weren’t you listening to my story? You need to learn how to listen.”

Friend: *to me* “What the h*** kind of things have you been teaching your kids?!”

Me: “I really don’t know…”

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(I’m working at the service desk of a large retailer when I’m called into the security office by the asset control associate while he detains and questions a female who was caught shoplifting. I walk in and the woman is obviously in her early 20s. She’s sitting there trying to force out the most fake sobbing I’ve ever seen. Her boyfriend has come in to support her, but at the moment he has to wait outside the room.)

Coworker: “All right, well, the police are on the way and the store manager is on her way up—”

Shoplifter: “No! Please! You can’t do this! I can pay for the stuff!”

Coworker: “Miss, you tried stealing $300 worth of electronics.”

Shoplifter: “No, you don’t get it! I can pay for it! I was just… I wasn’t thinking! I’ve been really stressed!”

Coworker: “Stressed enough to try and walk out the front door with groceries covering a Blu-ray player?”

Shoplifter: “Please! I can pay!”

Coworker: “You had a chance to pay for it when you went through the cash register to pay for your groceries, and you had a chance to pay for it when you walked through the store again, picked it up, and walked right by MORE registers to leave with it.”

Shoplifter: “I just… You’re wearing dog tags, right?! What military branch?”

Coworker: “Marines.”

Shoplifter: “Please! My boyfriend is a marine, too! He just got back from Afghanistan!”

Coworker: “Really?”

(My coworker stands up, opens the door, and looks to her boyfriend who is still standing there waiting.)

Coworker: “Hey, what military branch are you in?”

Boyfriend: “Huh? I just finished boot camp for Air Force.”

Coworker: “Thanks.”

(My coworker shuts the door, and stares at the shoplifter accusingly.)

Coworker: “Air Force boot camp? Really? That’s cheap, miss.”

Shoplifter: “SAME THING!”

Coworker & Me: “It really isn’t.”

Shoplifter: “You guys suck! This is so stupid! Let me pay for it! Don’t call the cops! Please!”

Coworker: “Too late. Speaking of the police, your chariot awaits.”

(The store manager decided to press charges as it turned out she’d stolen from other stores in the area.)

(I am at a local Chinese restaurant to pick up food for my office. I have done a lot of business with these folks. The young lady working seems to have trouble with her English. As I wait, another customer walks in the door.)

Customer: “Hi, I’m picking up my order my wife placed 20 minutes ago.”

Worker: “I am sorry. I have no order.”

(The customer starts getting angry, and the worker is getting upset and trying her best to accommodate him.)

Customer: “This is un-f******-believable. You people are ridiculous!”

Worker: “I am so sorry. I will make your food. What did you order?”

Customer: “You people need to get your s*** together. You need to learn how to COMMUNICATE!”

(The customer calls his wife.)

Customer: “Yeah, honey? I’m at [Chinese restaurant] getting our food. They screwed up and didn’t, wait, what? Okay…”

(The customer hangs up, suddenly looking very timid.)

Customer: “Yeah, I’m at the wrong place.”

(I feel the need to comment.)

Me: “Looks like you need to learn how to COMMUNICATE.”

(I then grab my food, tip the worker a comfortable amount, and walk out. I can see the smirk on her face, and the embarrassment radiating from the customer.)