I offer dog training services. Someone comments on a social media post about it, so I message them.

Me: “Hey! I saw your comment on my post and thought it might be better to privately message you. I typically charge $50 a lesson, and the lessons are in or near your home. You get one hour of one-on-one teaching and hands-on learning, and a plan/write-up within a week of the end of the lesson.”

I don’t get a message back until the next day.

Customer: “Hi! I love that you have a plan/write-up after just one lesson. I had a trainer for two months and I never got anything close to that! I finally let her go this week. I have a three-year-old, ninety-pound horse of a Labrador! He is a lot to handle. The main issue is how crazed he gets when he greets people, so I don’t have anyone over, or I put him in the car! So… I’m on [disability assistance] and only pull in $900 a month, so do you do a sliding scale based on income? I’m just going to ask, and it’s okay if it’s a no! Would you consider doing that for $30?! It never hurts to ask!”

I don’t get back to them right away as I’m at work.

Customer: “No response. That’s not a good sign of integrity.”

Me: “Actually, [Customer], I just got home from work. I’ve been at work all day. I’d really love to help you out with your lab, but I have to stay true to my prices. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Wow! That says a lot. You’re more about money than really being serious about animals. Shame on you, especially in these times. Best if you do not respond.”

Me: “Because I have to work to live? I work for someone else making money. I’m not ‘more about money’ at all. I’m more about making a living and surviving.”

Customer: “No! About not having a sliding scale! Because maybe [the health crisis] took away their job?! Meaning me! Forget it. Sorry for whatever’s my fault. I have to move on.”

Me: “If you want to spin it that way, you clearly said, ‘It’s okay if it’s a no.’ So, it’s a no from me. Thank you for asking.”

Customer: “Yeah, that’s clearly ‘the best way to spin it’! I can tell you’re a f****** c***. Don’t respond or I’ll have to get nasty.”

The last few messages were peppered with passive-aggressive emojis. I didn’t respond. I did, however, report her to the social media platform for violating community guidelines. “No personal attacks.”

When I was about five, I got chickenpox. No big deal for me; I barely noticed and just had a fun week home from school playing Power Rangers.

My mum, however, realised that at age thirty-three, she had never had chickenpox, and she was pretty sure I had now given it to her.

She was right. So, she called her manager at work — a big supermarket chain — and told her that, although she felt fine, she was pretty sure she had the pox.

Manager: *Tersely* “If you feel fine, come in for work, then!”

So… in my mum went. She spent hours sitting at the checkout, scanning items, and handling money, until a supervisor from the bakery department happened to wander by and physically recoiled as he saw that my mum now had visible spots manifesting on her arms and neck.

Supervisor: “Y-You have chickenpox?!”

Mum: “Yep.”

Supervisor: “Why the h*** are you here?”

Mum: “I told [Manager], but she told me to come in anyway.”

[Supervisor] went straight to [Manager] and demanded she let my mother go home. Obviously pissed at being tattled on and having her stupid actions be made apparent to her coworkers, [Manager] tried to take it out on my mum in some small way by demanding she get a doctor’s note.

My mum went straight from work to the doctor who told her, confused, that she could have just stayed home for a week, maybe even only a few days. She didn’t need to see a doctor for chickenpox.

When my mum told him her manager had demanded a doctor’s note, he said, “Fine,” and signed her off work for TWO weeks. Right before Christmas.

This story is part of our Best Of July 2021 roundup!

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Today was a strange day. I was just studying for a test when, around 10:00 am, I realized that I’d run out of snacks. I headed to a big chain store a few blocks from home.

I am about six feet tall and have long hair for a guy. I’m about sixteen years old and am apparently an old people magnet in stores. Because of my purple jacket, black pants, manbun, and earphones in blasting rap music, I don’t really look like an employee, or so I thought.

I was just browsing the store to find some snacks and maybe something for dinner that day. As I ducked to search between the salted nuts for a decent-looking bag, I felt a hard tap on my shoulder. I turned my music off and turned around, only to see a nice old lady.

Lady #1: “Could you help me?”

I always get asked to help by old ladies. I don’t know why, but they always seem to like me.

Me: “Sure, what can I help with?”

Lady #1: “I want a microwave, but I can’t lift it into my cart.”

Me: “I’ll come with so I can help.”

I already had everything I needed now, so I just tagged along with the nice lady and help her with putting the microwave in her cart and onto the belt. I kept talking to the nice old lady.

Lady #1: “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Me: “I just try to help elderly people when I can.”

Lady #1: “Here, let me pay for your things.”

Me: “Oh, no, thank you. I’ve got my card ready already.”

When I put her microwave in her trunk, she slid a 10€ bill into my hand.

Lady #1: “It’s good to see that some people still behave well.”

After the nice old lady drove off, I realized that I had forgotten to buy potatoes for dinner, so I ran home, dropped everything off, and went back into the store. This time was less wholesome.

I entered the store and went immediately to the potatoes. I dug around to find the perfect bag. As I was lifting the big bag onto my cart, I heard a groan and the tapping of a shoe on the tiled floor. Thinking that I was standing in the way, I tried to move aside, but the woman standing there wasn’t having it; she started to groan even louder.

I turned around and saw a woman around sixty dressed like a woman in her twenties.

Lady #2: *Loudly* “Finally! I have been trying to get your attention for at least five minutes now!”

Me: “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Lady #2: *Screaming* “I demand that you help me put my stuff in my car after I pay for it!”

That’s right, demanding, not asking.

Me: “I’m not going to do that; you screamed at me.”

Lady #2: “You have no choice; you have to. It’s your job. I saw you outside helping that other lady fifteen minutes ago.”

Me: “First of all, I am not an employee here, and second of all, if I was, I’d decline to help you due to your behavior toward me just now.”

Then, I tried to walk away, but she tried to push me aside. She pushed harder than I expected and I ended up tripping over a tile that was sticking out partially and faceplanted into the aisle next to me. The woman clearly knew what she’d done, and started screaming:

Lady #2: “Ahhh! No! Don’t touch me!”

I was completely stunned by her actions, so I didn’t know what to say. An employee arrived and the lady started crying and telling him a bunch of lies as they walked to the closest bench so “she could sit to rest after being jumped.”

I tried to get back up myself, but due to my bad landing, I’d managed to hurt my back and couldn’t balance myself properly, so I just decided to just lay down and wait until someone arrived. Luckily, an old man saw everything and came up to me to help me up.

Me: “No, no, I can wait. I don’t want you to hurt your back helping me up.”

The old guy wasn’t taking no for an answer; he just picked me up gently and gave me his cane to lean on.

Man: *With a giggle* “My wife makes me use it just in case, but I don’t need it now.”

Me: “Thanks.”

Then, the manager arrived, looking unhappy. Then, he saw me barely able to stand, and the old man. He asked me what happened and I told him my story. The old guy backed me up.

Manager: “The police are already on their way. You can stay in my office until they get here.”

When we started to hear sirens, I got scared. I was an underage boy with a manbun being accused of assaulting an old lady, so in my head my life was over. I was trying not to puke out of.

The police arrived and the lady told them her story.

Lady #2: “He should be fired!”

Because, yeah, the police can fire me from a store where I don’t work. They came to me and started asking me questions. The old guy was still with us and was getting bored.

Man: “[Manager], just show them the camera footage instead of wasting this kid’s time.”

Manager: “Okay, here.”

He turned his screen to show us the entire thing on security footage. I was so relieved to know that I had proof now.

Police Officer: “Would you like to press charges?”

Me: “I’ll talk to my parents and contact you later.”

He gave me his details and we walked out. The officer then cuffed the lady and she kept screaming all the way to the car.

I ended up buying the old guy’s groceries as a thank-you for helping me. I suffered no permanent damage. The lady was banned from the store and is now facing a lawsuit.

Was it worth it? Probably not. Was it on purpose? Probably not. Did she deserve it? Definitely!

I worked for about twenty years as a server and thought I’d seen it all until I started this job. I work currently as the night auditor at a small hotel in a university town.

A few weeks ago, I had a noise complaint at around 3:00 am. I called the room twice and got no response, so I walked up there and knocked on the door. When the door opened, there stood Catwoman. She purred at me.

Ummmmm…

I looked past her and there was another Catwoman sitting on the back of a man who was clearly dressed as a horse. She had a small whip and lightly smacked his a** with it. He neighed.

I just stood there with my mouth open. Just when I was starting to get my thoughts together, a dude dressed as a My Little Pony walked out of the bathroom on all fours and snorted. I lost it.

When I recovered, I told them about the noise complaint and asked them to keep it down. They apologized and I didn’t hear any more out of them. When they checked out, they were very friendly.

I work at a newspaper agents where we sell lots of things, including prepaid cards to charge your phone balance. This particular customer has a reputation for being constantly angry and shouting at the employees. She once shouted at us because the site for the prepaid cards was down and she couldn’t charge her balance that day.

Customer: *Angry* “You need to fix my phone! You were the ones who broke it.”

Me: “What’s wrong with it?”

Customer: “Since you charged my phone last week, I can’t call one specific number anymore! All my other numbers work.”

Me: “It’s not possible to break something that way by charging the phone.”

Customer: *Even angrier* “FIX MY PHONE!”

My boss comes in and tries to help her figure out the problem.

Boss: “Ma’am, the number you’re trying to call has one digit too many.”

Customer: “No, the number is right! Fix my phone or I’m calling the police!”

She keeps shouting some more. Eventually, she does figure out that she put an extra digit in the number and that’s why it won’t work.

Boss: “You need to apologize for shouting at us.”

Customer: “You’re the ones who were wrong! You deserved it!”

Boss: “Ma’am, you are no longer allowed in this store. You can buy your prepaid cards somewhere else.”

I have a feeling I’ll see her back next week being angry about not being allowed in anymore.