(I am a banquet server at a large “public ivy” college that is particularly known for its high economics rating, because they’re usually cheap and/or selfish, and cater to their donors instead of their employees. On this day, I am catering to the president of the university, his wife, and the donors and retirees of the university, and they have pulled out all the stops. Having encountered them before, I know it is mandatory not to serve my guests until the president and his wife has been served, or else the president’s wife will pitch a fit; she’s not known for being a pleasant person. We take our trays of food out, and I wait patiently as my coworker goes to serve the president of the university, then his wife.)

Wife: “Excuse me, miss?”

Coworker: “Yes, Mrs. [Wife]? Is there something wrong?”

Wife: “Yes, you should know something.”

(I watch in horror as she then THROWS her plate of food to the floor — the plate alone was worth more than $50 — and it shatters into a million pieces as food goes everywhere. Her husband, the president, doesn’t react.)

Wife: “You always serve the lady first! LADIES ALWAYS COME FIRST!”

Coworker: *stunned silence* “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. [Wife]. Would you like me to bring you out another plate?”

Wife: “NO! You’ve ruined this entire dinner! I’ll be talking to the head of your department! You will never work here again! I hope you kill yourself, you uncultured pig!”

(The wife then crosses her arms and pouts. As my coworker walks away to get a broom, one of the donors at my table nudges me.)

Man: “Is she always like that?”

Me: “Yes, I’ve encountered her before. She told me that my dreams of being a writer are stupid and I should expect nothing more of myself than working at [Fast Food Place], because I’m too incompetent for anything else.”

Man: “Well, if that’s the case…”

(He proceeds to hand me two $50 bills, which is almost half of what I make per paycheck.)

Man: “Split that between yourself and the young woman who served [Wife]. You both are lovely young ladies, and I promise to you both that [University] won’t get a penny more from me until that wretched woman is gone!”

Me: “Thank you, sir.”

(The president’s wife proceeded to sit and pout for the rest of the evening and refused everything we brought to her. Less than a week later, Mr. [President] announced that he was stepping down at the beginning of the spring semester. Needless to say, all of catering had a party on that day, happy to finally be getting rid of that horrible woman.)

(My husband and I spend the day helping our son move to his new place and clean his old place. We stop for gas and drinks on the way home. While he pumps gas, I go inside for the drinks. Part of the transaction involves inputting my zip code. I groan and say:)

Me: “I hate numbers when I have a migraine.”

Customer Behind Me: *yells right into my ear* “I DON’T!”

Me: “Lady, you don’t know how lucky you are that I don’t carry a weapon.”

(Please, people, never yell at someone with a migraine!)

(My husband and I decide to try a new independent coffee shop that everyone keeps talking about. It is a hot summer day, and I usually don’t order blended coffee drinks, but the shop has a large selection that sound good and a sign advertising them as a great way to cool down in the heat and humidity. It is around one in the afternoon, so it’s not right after opening and not anywhere near closing, and the shop isn’t busy.)

Barista: “Hi, welcome to [Coffee Shop]. What can I get started for you? Our blended drinks are great for this weather.”

Me: “Yes, they sound perfect. I’ll try the [Blended Drink].”

Barista: “Oh, well, I’ll have to get the blender out.”

(The barista stares at me. I stare at her. After several more seconds of uncomfortable staring…)

Me: “Well, I guess I’ll just have an iced latte.”

Barista: “Great! I’ll get that started. Next time, you really should try one of our blended drinks!”

Me: “…”

(I’ve been working in a store for a little over a year. We recently hired a new employee. His work ethic is bad on a good day and non-existent on a bad day. About a week after he starts working, he starts dating a girl and spends all day on the phone with her. This exchange happens while we have a line of customers. My coworker is not bothering to keep his voice down while talking to his girlfriend on the phone.)

Coworker: “Oh, yeah? That’s really hot. And then what would you do to me?”

(My current customer and I turn to look at him; he and all the other customers are looking very uncomfortable about overhearing this)

Me: “[Coworker], you need to put your phone down and help with these customers; this sounds like a private conversation, anyway.”

Coworker: *holds up a finger to silence me* “Oh, yeah, baby. That’s so hot.”

Me: “Put it away now, or I get the boss involved.”

Coworker: *glares angrily at me but carries on dirty-talking his girlfriend*

Me: “That’s it. I’m calling the—”

(A customer walks behind the counter, grabs the phone out of his hands, and says this into the phone.)

Customer: “Your boyfriend will call you later; he’s at work right now.”

(He then took the phone to the door and hurled it as hard as he could into the parking lot. Everyone in the store laughed at the employee, and he was fired that same day.)

I was hired into my convenience store job pregnant, with management aware. Everything started out okay, but as time goes by and I near the end of my pregnancy, my feet become extremely swollen and painful to stand on continuously, usually reducing me to tears if I don’t get a chance to sit down. I also get winded easily and feel faint if I overwork myself. Simply sitting for a few minutes and drinking water fixes it. I can still perform my job duties, but my doctor wants me to have access to a chair or a stool while I ring out customers. He writes a note, I give it to my manager who has no problem offering me a chair, and everything seems okay. I should also mention I’m not a smoker, so I do not get any other breaks apart from my lunch, while smoking employees get a break about every half hour.

A few weeks later, I’m working the register and stock, and the district manager comes in. I have my chair next to me and occasionally stop between totes or customers to sit down and have a breather. A few minutes after she comes in, the assistant manager comes up to me and tells me I have to go home, because the district manager said I was a liability. Furious, I go to the back office and ask for a letter from her stating that she is sending me home and why. She says they need a doctor’s note stating I can still work, and until then, I’m not allowed. Then she tells me to call the disability office.

I leave in tears and immediately call human resources. A few days later, the regional manager tells the district manager that I am indeed allowed to work, and I return, with no more issues.

About a week before I am scheduled to go on maternity leave — I am 36 weeks — the district manager returns. At this point, I’m very pregnant, so much so that people ask if I’m having twins. I’m also having practice contractions and am generally uncomfortable, but I still work, as it’s relatively simple and I only have a few days left.

The district manager walks up to me while I’m straightening the front end and hands me a bucket of hot, soapy water and a rag. She tells me to get on my hands and knees and clean the bottoms and tops of all the displays, shelving, and vending machines. I have just dusted them the day prior, but I guess that wasn’t good enough.

I spend the next three hours scrubbing on the floor and on a broken step-ladder, while also ringing people out. It is hard work, and I am able to do it, but it was still pretty inconsiderate, especially considering there are three other employees there who aren’t about nine months pregnant and working the till.