Customer: “This steak is still pink in the middle.”

Me: “You ordered it rare, sir.”

Customer: “Yes, I ordered it rare, but I still expect the steak to be cooked!” 

I pause for a moment, but then the customer’s friend comes in for an assist.

Customer’s Friend: “[Customer], what do you think rare means?”

Customer: *Now sounding a little less sure.* “That… it… comes from a rare cow?”

Me: “It means it’s been cooked just enough to sear the outside of the cut of meat, keeping the inside red.”

Customer: “Oh. So, it’s not like… a rare type of cow?”

Customer’s Friend: “[Customer], these are farm animals, not Pokémon!”

Customer: *Embarassed.*

Me: “Would you like me to take the steak back and ask the kitchen to cook it a little more, sir? Enough to make it brown in the middle?”

Customer: “Yes, please.”

Customer’s Friend: “And make sure it’s from a shiny cow!”

Customer: “Oh, shut up.”

If you don’t collect Pokémon cards, you might not be aware of the craze surrounding them. They’ve become hard to get, prices are soaring, and scalpers are buying out the stock to relist for crazy prices online. Some stores are even raising the prices and succeeding in selling, due to how hard some sets are becoming to get. I work, so I can’t be at the stores right when the cards are put out and miss out on a lot.

My mother is a seventy-four-year-old disabled Veteran and every time she’s at a retail store, she checks for Pokémon cards, and sometimes scores for me.

There are two sets that I have been absolutely unable to find. Black Bolt and White Flare. Unfortunately, these two sets correspond to one of my favorite games in the series, and I’ve been a bit down that I cannot get my hands on a single pack.

Well, one day my mom’s out shopping for regular groceries and happens to check the Pokémon card aisle, and lo and behold, there are Black Bolt and White Flare booster bundles. Now, my mom’s not a crazy scalper, so she selects 2 of each for me and leaves the rest for others.

She’s going about her regular shop when a man reaches into her cart and tries to take the booster bundles.

My Mom: “Don’t take those, they’re for my daughter.”

Man: “Yeah, I want ’em for my kid.”

My Mom: “There were more on the shelves. You can get some of your own if you head over now.”

Man: “They’ll be gone.” *Reaches for boxes again.*

My Mom: “NO! Go get your own.”

My mom attempts to maneuver the cart away from this man, but he follows her, a short 5’4″ (162 cm for my non-American friends) grey-haired old lady with a cane in her cart.

My Mom: “Please go away!”

Man: “Just stop.” *Grabs her cart and forcefully stops her.* “You can go get more if they’re really there.” *Takes booster bundles.*

My mom tried to stop him, but he pushed her away, and she had to grab on to the cart to maintain her balance. She has two bad knees and a bad back from the military, and she could have easily fallen and hurt herself seriously. So, the man took the cards and speedwalked away.

My mom told the first associate she saw, but the man was long gone, and sadly, so were the rest of the cards. When my mom told me the story, I told her to just let the miserable SOBs have whatever and keep herself safe. She’s worth too much to me to get hurt over my collection. 

Fortunately, my friend Adrien happened to be visiting his grandparents in Japan when I complained in the friend group chat about this, and he told me he’d get me a couple of boxes of Black Bolt and White Flare Japanese cards. My mom wired him some extra cash and told him to go wild picking out stuff for me, so I ended up with 3 Japanese Booster Boxes of each Black Bolt and White Flare, along with several other boxes from different sets.

But to that crazy man in the store, I seriously doubt you even had a kid, and I bet you just saw my mom as weak and easy to take advantage of. They’re just fancy cardboard, not worth sacrificing our human decency over. I hope the next old lady you decide to pick on has a background in Krav Maga and a spirit to match.

My mom’s okay, but she’s a lot more cautious and brings a coat into stores with her now to hide her finds under. It’s really sad that the hobby has come to the point where an old lady has to hide presents for her daughter from grown men.

At age eleven, a friend changes schools (without moving house), but we stay in touch for about a year after that and attend each other’s twelfth birthdays.

I know she is very into Pokémon, so for her birthday, I got her a pack of the cards. None of the other gifts she opens are Pokémon-related, so I start to worry she has lost interest in it. I am reassured when she gets very excited upon opening the gift from me, and further reassured when the cake comes out, and I see a picture of a Pokémon on it.

All three of the other guests are from [Friend]’s new school. I had never met any of them before and, to my knowledge, have never met them again. After the cake, [Friend] briefly leaves the room. Two of the guests are speaking between themselves. I am abruptly confronted by the third.

Party Guest: “Why did you get [Friend] Pokémon cards? [Name #1], [Name #2], and I all agreed not to give her Pokémon stuff. We’re trying to help her get over her obsession.”

Me: *Confused.* “I just got her something I thought she would like.”

[Party Guest] just looks at me for a moment, then walks away. In retrospect, I wish I had told [Friend] – or maybe [Friend]’s parents – about that conversation, instead of assuming her new friends were ‘well-meaning but misguided’ rather than bullies.

I’m getting a few things at the local convenience store. The guy at the register is in his early twenties and is wearing a cute Pokémon t-shirt.

One of the regular grumpy customers walks up to him. I’ve never seen this guy happy in all the years I’ve lived in this neighborhood.

Customer: “Aren’t you a little old to be wearing that shirt?”

Register Guy: “It fits, and I like it.”

Customer: “Don’t you think it’s time you started to act your age?”

Register Guy: “I don’t know how to act my age. I’ve never been this age before.”

The customer just blinks and pays in silence. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen his ranting cut short.

I’m selling collectable Pokémon cards at one of the various Comic-Cons. A boy, maybe ten or so, sees one of my rare cards and starts ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ over it.

Boy: “Wow, you have [Collectable]!”

Me: “Yes, it’s definitely one of the rarer ones!”

Boy’s Mom: “Can you give it to him?”

Me: “Yes, for $100.”

Boy’s Mom: “What! But he’s only ten!”

Me: “So?”

Boy’s Mom: “What do you mean, so?! He’s a child! That’s a child’s toy! You should let him have it if you’re a decent person!”

Me: “No.”

Boy’s Mom: “What do you mean, no?!”

Me: “You seem to be having trouble comprehending, ma’am, so let me explain. This is what is commonly known as a store. A store has items that are sold for money. Customers hand over said money and walk away with the item. I hope that clears things up for you.”

Boy’s Mom: “You are an obscene and indecent little man, and I pray that you go to Hell!”

Me: “I will, later! I’m playing the new Diablo game!”

The boy takes his mom’s hand and starts to lead her away.

Boy: “Mom, you promised. This is why I always come with Dad…”