There’s a beggar I see on the corner almost every day on my way home from work. She has a cat that stands by her and poses with her and her sign. Her cat looks much better cared for than she does.

I don’t give her anything because I’m honestly too poor to.

One day, I see an ambulance parked near where she stands. I see her being loaded onto the ambulance. I don’t see the cat anywhere. I don’t know what possesses me to, but I park my car and wait. After the noises die down, I start hearing a “mrrrr” noise.

Her cat slowly creeps its way out of hiding, walks over to her sign, and lies on the ground. I pick the cat up and carry it to my car.

I take the cat to the vet to get it checked out. The cat doesn’t have a chip, but it’s not my cat, so I opt not to chip it. We get the cat some shots and a prescription for some medicine for fleas and ticks.

I care for the cat at my apartment for a while, waiting. Every day, I check to see if the beggar has come back.

A few months later, she’s back, though she looks very sad. I drive home, then drive back out to her, and deposit her cat in her arms.

I learn, for the first time, her name and her cat’s name. I also promise her that, next time something happens to her, I’ll try to care for her cat, and I give her my contact number.

So far, both she and her cat seem to be in good health.

We talk to customers all over the United States.

Me: “May I please have your address?”

Caller: “Oh, I live right behind Arby’s, down the street from the gas station.”

Me: *What I wish I could have said* “Right. We’ll have a technician out to every house in America behind an Arby’s immediately.”

Me: *What I actually said* “Just in case there’s more than one Arby’s, can I get your address, please?”

In my second year of college, I was living with the roommate I’d had in the dorms the year prior. The first year, our schedules were the complete opposite, so I didn’t run into this issue.

[Roommate] had a terrible time getting up in the morning and asked if I could help wake her up as I was a chipper morning person. The first morning I did it, I woke her up about half an hour before I was leaving, and there was my first mistake.

She was not a morning person. Until I left, she kept grumbling and cursing at me and generally being mad.

From then on, I would wait until I was walking out the door, flick her lights on and off leaving them on, and yell for her to wake up before running out the door to escape her wrath.

I’m young and female. I’m fueling up at a nearby gas station. I am completely minding my own business and have made no indication whatsoever that I need any type of help. It’s worth noting that I’m the only female currently pumping gas; all the other customers at the other pumps are male.

The gas station attendant comes over and instantly gives me “creepy” vibes. He tells me I’m pumping gas wrong, takes the gas nozzle out of my hand, and proceeds to demonstrate the “right” way to pump gas — which involves tilting the nozzle a grand total of ten degrees to the side and using both hands on the handle. This is something I can’t do as my left hand is full with my wallet and keys due to women’s clothing lacking any form of pockets.

Attendant: “You’re spraying gas all over the ground, and you’re going to get it all over yourself. This is how you need to pump gas.”

Me: “Yeah, there’s so much gas on the ground already.”

The attendant looks down. The ground is literally bone dry; there isn’t a drop of gas on it.

Attendant: “There’s no gas on the ground.”

Me: “That’s my point.”

Attendant: “You have an attitude problem. I’m just trying to help you.”

Me: “I don’t have an attitude problem; you do. I never asked for any help.”

Attendant: “You have a major attitude. I’m only trying to help here!”

The gas pump shuts off as it has filled my tank. Luckily, I wanted a full tank. But if I had wanted to stop after twenty dollars, for example, I wouldn’t have been able to since he took over pumping. The attendant also hangs up the nozzle himself, which fails to give me the option for a receipt.

Attendant: “And you should put your keys and wallet in the car when you’re done with them so you can use both hands on the handle. You should be glad I’m preventing you from getting gas all over yourself.”

Me: “My door locks automatically after so much time; I’m not about to lock myself out.”

Attendant: “Geesh, what’s your problem? I’m only helping!”

Me: “Next time, ask if the person wants help.”

He left at that point, muttering something I didn’t hear under his breath. I left, too. When I got home, I immediately filed a complaint with the gas station’s company. I only got a form letter in response; I have no idea if they took further action that I wasn’t privy to.

I am working at [Fast Food Chain] to pay for college. It is the summer before my sophomore year studying education, and I spend the time I’m not at the restaurant tutoring students. I have been on shift since 4:00 am, and it is nearly 11:00 am, when I will clock out. I am beyond tired.

A well-to-do-looking woman comes up to my register and orders a meal. I ring her up and accept her cash. In our system, you type in the amount of cash given, and then it tells you the change. I must have looked at the wrong box because I give the wrong amount of change. I give back the correct number of bills, but I give the total in coins back instead of what I owe. It is a simple mistake, and I immediately realize I’ve done it after I hand her the coins.

Customer: “You gave me the wrong change!”

Me: “Yes, I just realized that I—”

She speaks in a super-condescending tone, about half the speed of a normal conversation:

Customer: “Okay, sweetie, I know math is hard, so I’m going to count it out with you.”

Me: *Stunned silence*

It is a slow point in the day and my manager notices the transaction taking longer than normal, so she comes to see what is going on. She hears the woman talking to me like a five-year-old. It is a good thing she is there, or I probably would get rude.

Manager: “Look, she just made a simple mistake. There’s no need to talk to her like that.”

Me: “Here’s the correct change, ma’am.”

Customer: “All you workers are so incompetent! You can’t even do basic math.” *To me, still speaking at the speed of a snail* “Get a job, sweetie.”

Me: “…but I have two?”

At that, she takes her food and leaves, surely feeling entitled and victorious.

Me: *To the manager* “Can I go home now?”

Manager: “Yeah, just go clock out.”

That was one of the rudest customers I have ever had, but sadly not the worst. Good thing I finished my degree and will hopefully never work in fast food again!