(I work part-time in the summer season as a lifeguard at a public beach. The waves have been a bit choppier than normal, so I am watching pretty carefully from the chair for anyone that might need help. A lady comes stomping up to me, dripping wet, and I brace myself for a demand to ‘turn down the waves.’)

Woman: “I lost my earring!”

Me: “…I’m sorry to hear that?”

(The woman just stares at me for a second.)

Woman: “Well?”

Me: “I’m very sorry to hear that?”

Woman: *grunts* “Go find it!”

(I stare at her, then down at the beach. She has a tiny little stud in one ear. The chances of me finding the matching stud if it was laying out on the sand would be bad; add in the waves, and it is effectively zero.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I have to stay on duty to keep an eye out for anyone who might be in danger.”

(That is literally the line they gave us in training for when someone invites you to play volleyball or have a drink with them. The lady stared at me, wide-eyed, before she started making a noise like a steaming teapot. Her shrieky whistle rose up to a full scream, and she just stood there, screaming at me for moment, before she spun around and stomped away, still screaming. I found out from a friend that works in a food stand nearby that she came up to the stand to try to file a complaint against me.)

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My boyfriend and I have been together for almost a year, and we are coming up on our first anniversary. We don’t know the real “official” date of our anniversary, so we decided a while ago for it to be July 13th. We also have just moved in together and are starting a new job, where we both got hired.

I don’t want to go crazy because I know we are stressed and busy, so I buy him a little present and a card, and slip it into his work-bag for him to find later. Fast forward a few hours, and he has found the card and present, and thanked me. I patiently wait.

And then, nothing. No special dinner. No card. Nada. I am bummed. I don’t say anything because I just don’t know what to say. About a month or so goes by and things are rough between us. I finally crack and yell at him about him totally ignoring our anniversary.

His excuse? He thought it was a different day. In July. BOTH dates have already passed by now. So not only did he awkwardly accept my gift on the “wrong” date, but he then didn’t even bother to do anything on the date he thought was correct!

I’m still annoyed, but we’re coming up on year two, so he better not forget this time and hopefully goes over the top to cover both anniversaries!

(My mother and I are standing in line at a local deli. The man in front of us has a young son, maybe 6 years old, with him.)

Son: *pointing to the gefilte fish in the display cooler* “Daddy! What’s that?!”

Customer: “Oh, that. That’s just Jew Food. You don’t need that nasty Jew Food.”

My Mother: *gasps* “Excuse me! That’s a very bad example you are setting for your son, sir!”

Customer: *rolls his eyes* “Ooh, and I suppose you’re a Jew, aren’t you?”

My Mother: “No, I’m a Christian but I take offense to that because my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ… he was Jewish.”

(The man turned bright red and left right away with his son. The cashier told us that the man was a regular and was always saying offensive and/or racist things. Now we are the regulars at this deli. We’ve never seen that guy in there again.)

(I am very heavily pregnant with twins, one boy and one girl, and have gone into labor a few weeks before my scheduled C-section. It should be noted I am rather short and plump, but my pelvis is so narrow I cannot give birth naturally. My husband is waiting with me; he is fifteen years older than me. He is also very tall. They have sent a nurse to retrieve me in the ER waiting room.)

Nurse: *stopping to look me over* ‘My, you’re a big one, aren’t ya? Well, sit down and we’ll get you back and prepped for your scan.’

Husband: “She’s not here to be prepped for a scan. We’re going upstairs.”

Nurse: “Scans are done back there, not upstairs.” *starts trying to push me but I dig my heels in as she pushes me to the back*

Me: “Listen, I need to go upstairs, not in the back. Now, please, kindly wheel me upstairs.”

Nurse: *not listening* “I realize when you are this obese that the scans and x-rays seem silly, but really it’s probably just gallstones and better to know now and get you on a diet to lose this tummy.” *looks at my husband* “I believe your daughter gets her size from you, sir.”

Husband: “I was sort of hoping my son did, but seeing as they’re both trying to come out now, what say we wait and see?”

Nurse: *sputtering* “I just thought she was fat and just wanted attention! I was just going to take her for an x-ray to calm her down! I’ll get her up to a birthing room!”

Husband: “We’re headed to the OR. She needs a c-section.”

Nurse: “Someone as fat as her just wants to be lazy and not push!”

(The nurse was reprimanded after she brought me literature on obesity and liposuction!)

(I work the morning shift in a bakery on Christmas Eve of 2014. I am pretty new, and it is overwhelming. There are hundreds of pre-orders, and most of the regular sale breads are gone within an hour. I’ve had to turn away several people who wanted Christmas breads at this point.)

Customer: “I’d like a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re sold out.”

Customer: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I mean we’ve sold all of the cinnamon raisin bread. I could recommend—”

Customer: “Well, it’s Christmas Eve. You should have baked more!”

Me: “Ma’am, all of our bakers were up all night baking extras–”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I can see a loaf right there!”

Me: “Ma’am, that is a pre-ordered loaf. Some people have ordered weeks in advance and–”

Customer: “But I’m here now!”

Me: “But that bread was ordered by another person. Ma’am, I can recommend a different–”

Customer: “FORGET IT! YOU RUINED MY CHRISTMAS!”

(The customer storms away, and I’m left blinking in shock. The next customer is a kind elderly lady with a pre-order that happens to include cinnamon raisin bread. A few minutes later, the original customer has apparently gotten back in line and has reached my register.)

Customer: “Hey, why did that woman get bread!”

Me: “Ma’am, she pre-ordered last week–”

Customer: “But I was here first!”

Me: *heavy sigh*

(This went on for a minute or two until she declared I’d ruined her Christmas once more and stormed out for good.)

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