Me: “Hello, what can I help you find?”

Customer: “Yes, I need some chicken wire for my yard.”

Me: “Okay, follow me and I’ll show you where it is.”

We get to the chicken wire.

Customer: “I need enough that will cover my yard.”

Me: “Okay, do you know how big your yard is?”

Customer: “No! You work here. Shouldn’t you know how big my yard is and how much I’ll need?”

Me: “Sir, I’ve never been to your house to see your yard, so I don’t know how much you’ll need.”

Customer: “Well, I’ll just buy two rolls, and if it isn’t enough, I will be back and tell your boss to get you fired since you obviously don’t do your job right.”

The year is 2019 and my favorite boy band growing up announces they are going on tour. I buy tickets the day they come out, excited for a nostalgic experience with my husband who I am dragging along.

Less than a week after the tickets are purchased, I learn that I am expecting. With the concert date a little under seven months away, I decide to still go. However, I failed to buy parking with the tickets, and by the time I decide that a close parking spot would be well worth the money now, they are completely sold out.

The day of the concert comes, and even arriving multiple hours early, we struggle to find parking close to the arena. We finally settle and make a rather lengthy walk. By the time we get to our seats, I am sweating and extremely out of breath.

My husband leaves me to go get some drinks and food as I enjoy the air conditioning.

Some time passes and a mom and her teenage daughter take a seat beside me. I think nothing of it as the band’s current fans range from pre-teens to their thirties. I glance at the woman as they settle in their seats, and she is giving me and my pregnant stomach a death glare. I smile at her just in time for her to pounce out of her seat and tower over me.

Woman: “How dare you come someplace like this?! Showing off your gross pregnant stomach! You are showing girls your age this is okay!”

I am very taken back and still slightly out of breath but I quickly gain my composure.

Me: “Ma’am, not that it’s any of your business—”

She cuts me off again, going into a rant about how her daughter now thinks teenage pregnancy is cool because I’m here.

I realize with my jeans shorts, band T-shirt, and Converse, I appear a bit younger than my twenty-five years. However, I fail to believe that I look as young as her fourteen-year-old daughter.

Woman: “You know what? Forget it! We’re leaving! I hope you’re happy, making my baby miss this show because you couldn’t keep your legs closed.”

She then violently pulls her daughter up by her arm and up the stairs. She passes my husband coming down the stairs with his arms full of drinks and snacks and almost knocks him over. 

Husband: “Wow, she seemed mad.”

Me: “Yeah, I guess you should know. You apparently married and impregnated a minor.” 

The lady and her daughter did return about ten minutes after the show started. My guess is she tried to get their seats changed without any luck. She didn’t say another word to me, luckily, and I enjoyed the show.

My grandma was something else. Feared by all, she took no s*** in life and was, in a word, iconic.

When I was a teenager, I was at my grandma’s house so I could go swimming at her pool. When I finished, my dad told me to go down to the house and say thank you to my grandma. I went down and saw she was on her back porch smoking a cigarette. I was still in my bikini. She took a long drag of her cigarette and then looked at me.

Grandma: “Ya got nice boobs. Much nicer than your older sister’s, anyway. I remember when she was a little girl, she used to go around telling people she wanted big boobs like your mom.”

She took another drag off the cigarette.

Grandma: “Meanwhile, she didn’t even have little fried eggs yet. “

I was absolutely mortified, and I quickly said thank you and ran up to the pool area where my dad was waiting in his truck to drive me home.

Dad: “Did you say thanks to Grandma?”

Me: “Yes, and we need to leave, like, now.”

This conversation has become seared into my brain because of how out of the blue it was and the choice of words that she used.

I am redoing some makeup displays when an old woman approaches me.

Customer: “Excuse me, but I need your help.”

I cringe because I dealt with this lady last week and she was a nightmare.

Customer: “I’m looking for a concealer, but I want it to be cheap.”

I take her over to the cheapest brand our store carries that has a pretty good selection for a variety of products.

Customer: “I want coverage to help cover up dark spots. I don’t want anything matte—” *pronounced as “mate”* “—and I don’t want anything too heavy.”

I show her a concealer that’s $6.

Customer: “I also want a powder that covers everything but doesn’t have a color because I hate wearing makeup. I hate anything too heavy. I don’t like loose powders and I don’t like pressed powders.”

I’m literally at a loss for what to do because she wants it all as cheap as possible and wants a powder that isn’t a powder and doesn’t want any liquid product at all. I show her all the options we have for forty minutes but she isn’t listening to anything I say and keeps getting distracted by random products.

Customer: “What’s a primer? Will that make me glowy and not ‘mate’?”

Me: “It’s meant to go under your makeup, and yes, it can make you more glowy as each primer does a different thing. It won’t really cover anything up, though, because like I said, it’s meant to go under makeup and just make it last longer and provide a smoother canvas.”

Customer: “What’s the difference between that and highlighter? Can I use highlighter to set my face?”

Me: “Highlighter is meant more to accentuate the high points of your face. They are glowy, yes, but most of the powders that we have are more shimmery and have glitter in them. They also have a tint so it could give your face a champagne or pink cast.”

We continue to look at every brand and I keep having to remind her that translucent powders do not have coverage and just help set makeup down. It’s getting to the last ten minutes of my shift and I still have a huge mess to clean up from rearranging the displays and I feel bad since I’m off the next three days and I don’t want to leave it for my coworker.

Since she continues to only listen to what she wants to and pretty much ignores any actual help such as even explaining products and brands we don’t carry which might suit her better at other stores, I grab a loose highlighting powder that is relatively flesh-toned and hand it to her as I’m just emotionally done at this point.

Me: “This is a loose highlighting powder that you can use with a powder brush to put on your face so you will be glowy, but since you’re using a fluffier brush to more evenly distribute the powder it shouldn’t be as blinding. It’s also the cheapest brand we have.”

Customer: “Perfect! Thank you so much.”

I hightailed it to my stock room to put away my stuff before she could stop me with other questions and then I quickly clocked out.

My boyfriend uses a wheelchair. We’re at the pharmacy for his appointment to get the second dose of a two-course vaccine in 2021.

They have a table set up for check-ins. The employee checks him in and gestures us to an area a few feet away to wait. A minute or two later, another woman signs in. The employee gestures to our area.

Employee: “Please wait on the circle behind the gentleman in the…”

There is a very long, very obvious, very conspicuous pause. He finally says:

Employee: “…black T-shirt.”

I wanted to tell him it was okay and he didn’t need to worry, but I didn’t in case that would’ve made things more awkward. I know he only wanted to be considerate.