I work at an airline and regularly need to take business trips from Houston to Chicago. I usually go on these flights once a week, at least.

I have just boarded my flight and plugged my earbuds in to listen to my favorite podcast. I am minding my own business when a middle-aged woman approaches me, looking unhappy.

Me: “Hello, ma’am. Can I help you?”

Woman: “Yes! Please close your window!”

Me: *Confused* “Why?”

Woman: “Your window is way too bright, and it is disturbing my angel who is napping!”

Almost everyone else has their window open, and her “angel” is playing games on his Nintendo Switch.

Me: “Ma’am, your child is clearly wide awake.”

I plug my earbuds back in. She doesn’t like this one bit.

Woman: “Excuse me!”

She yanks my earbuds out of my ears.

Woman: “Close your window or I’ll call the flight attendants!”

Along comes the flight attendant.

Flight Attendant: “Is there a problem?”

Woman: “Yes! This man is disturbing my sleeping son by having his window open!”

The attendant glances at the kid, who is still playing games.

Flight Attendant: “Ma’am, your kid is awake and playing games. Please go back to your seat or I will have you escorted off when we land.”

The woman was clearly angry but complied. She kept shooting dirty looks at me the entire flight, but luckily, I got off not too long after and was glad I never saw her again.

In this case, the flight attendant’s threat meant that the woman would be escorted off by law enforcement and might be charged with a crime.

I’m from a rural area in Catalunya, Spain. My native languages are Catalan and Spanish, but until I was around eighteen years old, I barely used Spanish outside of school, so my Spanish accent is… let’s say weird. Now, knowing that, imagine my English accent. It’s not that I don’t want to do it better; it’s just that I can’t. But still, I can talk to people, and they pretty much understand me.

I used to work as a waiter in a “fancy” but pretty much always empty restaurant in my town. We used to have clients from all over, and I was the only one who could speak enough English, so I’d be the one taking their orders. I was quite happy to do that because I got to practice and most of the people were great.

One day, an American woman showed up with her son; I guess he was around sixteen or so. From the moment she first heard me talk, the woman put on a weird face, but I tried my best. After a while, she said:

Woman: “Excuse me, could you speak better English? Your English is weirding my son out.”

Son: “Mom, please!” *Looks at me* “I’m sorry, it’s not.” *Looks at her* “Let him do his job.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s my English. I would need to practice a lot so I could change my accent.”

Woman: “But you have to know better so you can talk to us.”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m sorry I don’t have a better accent, but I’m trying my best.”

And then, the moment everyone was waiting for:

Woman: “Let me speak to your manager!”

I went to get him, knowing the poor dude wouldn’t understand half of what she said.

Boss: “Can I help you?”

Woman: “Your employee won’t speak better English to us!”

My boss looked at me, confused, and I translated it for him.

Woman: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT ARE YOU TELLING HIM?”

Boss: “I can’t help you, sorry. He has the best English. I leave you with him. Sorry.” *To me, quietly* “If she continues like this, let her write a complaint and let her leave.”

Then, he went back to the kitchen.

Woman: “WHERE IS HE GOING? WHY IS HE LEAVING? WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM? YOU JUST NEEDED TO SPEAK BETTER ENGLISH AND THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED!”

Me: “Lady, I told you. I can’t speak better English.”

Woman: “I…” *claps* “…demand…” *claps* “…you…” *claps* “…speak…” *claps* “…better…” *claps* “…English!” *claps*

Me: *Pissed off* “LADY! I told you! I…” *claps* “…can’t…” *claps* “…speak…” *claps* “…better *claps* “…English!” *claps* “And now I need you to leave.”

Her son laughed a little bit, and then the woman grabbed her things and her son and left, yelling not very nice things, insisting that she wasn’t paying and that she would sue us, and blah, blah, blah. Nothing ever happened.

That was it. Our boss never cared about what happened; we got to eat what we didn’t serve them and we had an anecdote to tell the other waiters.

I’ve worked for a grocery store or three. While working at one, I notice three teenage girls entering our store at about nine-ish, all shifty-eyed. Most shoplifters have the same predictable sort of eye-shift game that’s a dead giveaway; it resembles Randall from “Monsters Inc.” I am in charge of loss prevention, so I have the ability, along with the rent-a-cop that usually accompanies inner-city grocers, to watch these girls on video.

They make a beeline for the feminine product area and grab either condoms or pregnancy tests; I can’t see which. I can see that one girl looks around and clearly asks another girl to put the items in her purse. They then walk together to the bathroom. There are no cameras in the bathroom, but the girls come out of it squealing with excitement for the obviously pregnant third girl.

They are stopped on the way out by [Rent-A-Cop] and told to come back in and have a seat.

Rent-A-Cop: “Show me your purse.”

They do, and there’s nothing there, so then [Rent-A-Cop] clears the women’s restroom while I fill out my paperwork, interview the girls, and have a courtesy clerk get a new pregnancy test to scan.

[Rent-A-Cop] comes back with the box and the actual test — positive and gross; no gloves or anything!

The girls are all crying by now and their parents have been called.

Girls: “Please don’t show our parents the results of the test! Please!”

I wasn’t allowed to let this go, but I really felt for the pregnant girl. The officer convinced her that it was best they know now so they could get her the help she needed.

Mom came in, not looking happy. I’ve already processed my part, so I’d moved on by this time — closing duties — but man, did I want to be in that room when Mom found out. She was white as a ghost on her way out. She also bought another pregnancy test on the way out because she probably didn’t want to believe it.

This is during the height of the global health crisis. I work as a cashier and my store requires masks; we offer them at the door and cashiers are allowed to refuse service to anyone not wearing a mask.

I am stuck on self-checkout for the day, cleaning the machines and helping out anyone that needs to pay with cash. A group of three customers walks up to one of the machines and begins buying these little containers of sushi we carry, all unmasked.

Me: “Do you have masks?”

They respond with something like, “No, the constitution, my rights, blah, blah, blah,” so at this point I know they don’t want to cooperate.

Our self-scan has an assist mode used by any cashiers or managers to quickly fix a majority of the problems we encounter, but it also works as a pause button for customers and they have no control over it in assist mode.

I pop the machine into assist mode. The “leader” of the group is still trying to use the machine and I’m just holding back my smile; I have all the power in the situation.

Me: “I can’t help you if you refuse to follow company policy.”

The three of them were very visibly angry at this point, but they knew they had lost. One of them tossed the sushi on the machine and they just all strolled out without any of their stuff.

I pass a customer who is looking at kettles with a look of confusion and annoyance.

Me: “Hi. Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for? You seem to be struggling a little bit.”

Customer: “Hi. I’m looking for a kettle with no plastic in it. Your selection leaves a lot to be desired.”

I’m confused by the concept of a plastic-less electric kettle. However, our range of display items is small; perhaps she knows something I don’t.

Me: “I can’t guarantee that any of these don’t have plastic in them, sadly. Have you seen a kettle advertised with no plastic?”

Customer: “No. I decided this morning to live an eco-friendlier way, but apparently, you don’t support such lifestyles.”

She walked away. I was left standing there confounded at the concept of someone deciding that something exists, then being annoyed when it doesn’t, and THEN being all high and mighty that we don’t stock it!