My boss and I work in a small fashion boutique store. It’s a quiet evening the week before Christmas when a young woman and her boyfriend walk in. It’s fairly common for couples to try and steal from us, so we’re already keeping a watchful eye. Nothing happens until they get up to the till. 

Me: “Good evening! Did you find everything okay?” 

Young Woman: “Yes, thanks.” 

She hands me four items and I ring them up and tell her the total. 

Young Woman: “I was here on Monday Christmas shopping with a group of friends and I left these three items here in a bag after I paid. I called and they said I could just come in and pick them up.”

Me: “Uh, okay, did you remember who you spoke to?” 

Young Woman: “No, but they said I could just pick them up.” 

Me: “I understand that, but I can’t just let you have these items without prior proof of purchase.” 

Young Woman: *Now irate* “But I already paid!” 

Boss: “We have no record of that, and nobody here would tell you that you can just have these things without proof.” 

Young Woman: “But they said I could pick them up!” 

She and her boyfriend left after yelling that a few more times, leaving my boss and me to stare after her wondering what stores she shops in that just… allow that.

Like many others, I had a terrible school experience growing up. Middle school was especially hellish thanks to relentless teasing, both from students and teachers. It was the 1990s. What can I say? 

One teacher, in particular, was a bully, plain and simple. He’d tease me along with other students. He forced me to cut up my brother’s toy dinosaur for a Viking ship project. He made fun of the way my cat scratched at my arms. And so on and so forth. 

After high school, I thought I’d never see him again, but when you have a retail job in the city near where you grew up, it is inevitable. I came across him three times.

I wasn’t working the first time; I was with my sister at a popular gas station/food place. We were on our way out when the teacher came in. He lit up, as teachers do I guess when seeing old students.

Teacher: “Girls! [Dumb Nickname we had in school]! How’re you?”

I briskly walked past without acknowledging him. He looked at my sister questioningly.

Sis: “What’d you expect?”

She walked away, too.

The second time, I was working at a fast food place, taking drive-thru orders when he pulled up. My friendly demeanor immediately turned icy. It took him a moment but I saw the recognition in his eyes.

Me: “That’ll be [total].”

Teacher: *Handing me money* “You probably don’t recognize me, do you?”

Me: *Giving back change* “I know who you are.”

I closed the window and had a coworker give him his order.

The third time, it had been about ten years since school. I was a shift leader at a bookstore, I was married, and I figured I’d moved on from the trauma of school… but when I saw this teacher approach the cash register, I felt anxious as though I were in middle school again.

Me: “Will this be all today?”

I was trying to be cordial and ring through the transaction quickly. I gave him his total. He squinted at me, almost accusingly.

Teacher: “You know who I am.”

Me: “Yes.”

Teacher: “Then why—”

Me: “Your receipt is in the bag. Have a good day.”

He struggled for a moment, his face red. I have no clue what was going on in his head, or why he would think I of all people would be happy to see him. Maybe he was confused that this was the third time his former student was “mean” to him.

It definitely made him angry. He was with two little girls, and I think that’s the main reason why he just grabbed his bag and walked away.

I work in a bank as a banker. Our teller steps away to use the restroom, and during this time a lady enters.

Lady: *After waiting less than a minute* “Is there no teller today?!”

Boss: “She just went to the restroom; she’ll be back shortly.”

She waits for a few moments more.

Lady: “I’ll just use the ATM!”

She slams the door on her way out.

Me: *Bursts out laughing* “Guess we aren’t allowed to use the bathroom anymore!”

I’m joking with my dad about planning my funeral.

Me: “I’m gonna have a TV in the corner that just plays Bob’s Burgers on a loop the whole time.”

I pause for a second and decide to poke fun at my dad as he is the world’s biggest “M*A*S*H” fan.

Me: “At your funeral, I’ll play M*A*S*H.”

Dad: “I know you’re joking right now, but please actually do that. I think it’ll add a nice touch.”

Me: “Now you’re gonna tell me you want to be buried with your Kindle because your favorite game is on it?”

Dad: “Stop perfectly planning my funeral! I’m not dead yet! But please, yes, also do that.”

I am paged to come help a customer who has a question in the beauty department. Walking up, I’m already annoyed as it is an older gentleman, which usually means that his wife has sent him to pick something up without giving him any information. 

Me: “Did you need help with something?”

Customer: “My wife sent me to get this sunscreen, but I can’t find it with the others.”

I look at the bottle and see it’s a foundation that has an SPF.

Me: “This is a foundation. Do you know what shade she needs?”

Customer: “No, it’s sunscreen. See, it says so right on the bottle.”

Me: “Can I look at the bottle?”

He keeps going on about how it’s sunscreen while I look to see if a shade is listed. Thankfully, I find it and lead him over to where the makeup is. I see we are out of the shade he needs.

Me: “It looks like we are currently out of that shade. Do you want to call your wife and see if another shade will work?”

Customer: “I mean, this is SPF 30. Are there other SPFs in this brand?”

Me: “Sir, please listen. This is a foundation. It’s makeup with an SPF but it is not solely sunscreen. The shade your wife wants is gone. You are going to have to call her and see if another shade will work or you will have to go to another store.”

He still could not comprehend and ended up leaving. Women, please stop sending your clueless partners to shop for makeup for you. It never works out.