(My dad and I have just checked out at the supermarket. There are two elderly ladies pushing shopping carts in front of us. They are walking slowly towards the exit. Another customer is walking behind them with her son, who looks about 20. The son is obviously annoyed at the fact that he cannot get past the ladies walking so slowly. He speaks loud enough so that the whole shop can hear him.)

Son: “God, these old people! Always getting in the way. They are useless. They should be locked up so they can’t get in normal people’s way.”

(The son’s mum doesn’t say anything to him, but I can see that my dad is getting angry.)

Son: “They don’t deserve pensions. Let them work until they drop! They probably retired when they were 45 and are leeching off the government.”

(My dad taps the son on the shoulder.)

Dad: “You’re making a scene and upsetting those ladies. Calm it down, would you?”

Son: “They probably can’t even hear me. They’re all deaf anyway. Coffin dodgers! Why do you care if they even hear me?”

Dad: “First, I’m 67 and have worked since I was 16 years old up until my retirement two weeks ago. Second, my parents taught me to respect my elders; something your mother obviously didn’t bother to do, considering I’m giving you the verbal battering she should be. And it’s not those women who should be locked up; it’s misinformed, loud idiots like you.”

(By now the whole supermarket has stopped and is looking over at my dad.)

Dad: “As for leeching off the government: I get a pension, the same as those ladies and thousands of other elderly people do and it’s just over the minimum wage. Sometimes I have to decide between heating my house and eating food! You wait until you get older and retire and see how it feels then to be treated like a second class citizen by obnoxious, mouthy trash!”

(Throughout this whole thing the son has looked shocked. Finally his mother speaks up.)

Mum: “You’re right, totally right. It shouldn’t take a stranger to tell my son his behaviour is terrible.” *to her son* “I am completely ashamed of you. You know nothing about hardship considering you are claiming unemployment money and living rent free in my house. Now apologise to those ladies and to this gentleman.”

(The son says sorry, grudgingly, to all three.)

Mum: “And you see all this food and those DVDs that you wanted and I paid for just now? Well, you won’t get one piece of it.”

(The mum unloads all the food into the old ladies carts and gives the DVDs and a large piece of meat to my dad.)

Mum: “I hope this goes some way to making you feel valued and appreciated.”

(They walk out and the supermarket is silent for a moment. Then one of the old ladies starts to applaud and so does the rest of the customers and staff. The next time my dad went in to get his shopping they gave him £100 worth of coupons, and now all the staff know him.)

(My aunt works at a popular doughnut shop chain near my grandmother’s house. One evening, my older sister and her boyfriend, my little brother, and I decide to head there after an afternoon at a fair, while waiting for my mom to pick us up. A short while afterward, a couple of tough-guy type young men walk in, making rude comments, being loud, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. The leader of the group approaches the counter where my aunt is working.)

Customer #1: “Yo, b****, gimme your number.”

Aunt: “I don’t think so. Is there anything you’d like to order?”

Customer #1: “How ’bout a piece of that a**?”

Aunt: “Sorry, not on the menu. Now order something or please leave. You’re holding up the line.”

Customer #2: “B****, we’ll leave when we wanna leave.”

Customer #3: “Yeah, who’s gonna stop us, little old you?”

Aunt: “No, little old [Manager]. Now, please, place your order or get out.”

(The customer orders two cases of donuts, and throws his money to the ground.)

Customer #1: “See what you did? Pick it up and hand it back to me!”

Aunt: “Um, it’s on your side of the counter.”

(The customer picks up his money and walks over behind the counter and throws it down again.)

Customer #1: “Now pick it up, b****!”

Aunt: “No. As a matter of fact, leave. I’m refusing service.”

Customer #1: “Why, because I’m black?!”

Aunt: “No, because you’re acting like an imperious a**hole, and you have been since you walked in. Now leave, or I’m calling the police.”

(As luck would have it, a police officer stops inside the shop.)

Me: “Wow, that was fast.”

Customer #1: “Officer, this racist b**** was trying to kick me and my homies out. We ain’t even done nothin’!”

Officer: “Really? Because what I saw was you throwing your money at this woman twice, in addition to walking behind the counter, which isn’t allowed for non-employees.”

(The customer and his buddies start throwing a fit, yelling expletives, flipping everybody off, and generally acting unruly. Then they head outside and start throwing boxes around; the leader even takes off his shirt and tries goading everyone into a fight.)

Customer #1: “COME ON, I’LL SHOW Y’ALL! I’LL BEAT Y’ALLS A**ES SO HARD! COME ON!”

(He has another argument with the officer, but thankfully leaves with his buddies. However, he comes back a few minutes later accompanied not by his friends, but his grandmother.)

Customer #1’s Grandmother: “So I understand y’all have a problem servin’ my grandbaby?”

Customer #1: “Yeah, yeah, they were callin’ me all kinds of s***, and the girl over there was saying we were on food stamps!”

Customer’s Grandmother: “…[Customer #1], stand outside and wait while I talk to the lady here.”

(The customer steps outside and my aunt explains everything that happened. After hearing it, the grandmother is incensed and walks outside.)

Customer #1’s Grandmother: “YOU LITTLE PUNK-A**! GET YO’ A** IN THE CAR NOW! You dragged me outta my home for THIS?!”

(As they drive off, my mom finally pulls in.)

Mom: “So, what’d I miss?”

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(I’m a customer and am standing in line at the checkout behind a very sweet-looking little old lady. She’s a stereotypical, blue-haired, tiny woman dressed in a very nice yellow and pink pantsuit. The cashier is a nice-looking young man in his late teens or early twenties.)

Little Old Lady: *to the cashier* “You know, you’re a very handsome young man, and you can hold down a job. That’s a good thing.”

Cashier: “Thank you, ma’am.”

(The lady then proceeds to chat in a very friendly manner to the cashier. While talking, she’s very slowly and carefully placing one item at a time on the conveyor.)

Little Old Lady: “So, I think my granddaughter would be perfect for you. She’s just turned nineteen, she has a nice job of her own, and she’s pretty. You boys like redheads, right?”

Cashier: *dazed look*

Little Old Lady: “You really should meet her. I just know you two would be perfect for each other! I know these things!”

Cashier: “Um, ma’am—”

Little Old Lady: “So, what do you say? Would you like to meet my Linda?”

Cashier: “Ma’am, I’m gay.”

(At this, the sweet-faced little old lady just blinks and smiles.)

Little Old Lady: “Okay, so you need to meet my grandson instead!”

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(I am a customer in this story and am with my grandmother. The cashier is an older woman in her mid- to late-60s.)

Cashier: “Well, dear, I think we’ve finished the returns. So, we can start on your purchases.” *starts scanning items*

Me: “Thanks. It took me a while to find these bargains.”

Cashier: “Well, I can tell by your savings now that you’ve done pretty well!”

(Without warning, another customer pushes past me and my grandmother and starts trying to take my items.)

Cashier: *to the other customer* “Excuse me, ma’am. These do not belong to you. These belong to these ladies here.”

Customer: “RACISM! I knew this store was racist! Trying to take MY ITEMS and give them to this WHITE TRASH HERE!”

(Note: the other customer is also white. My poor grandmother is bewildered and doesn’t know what to say or do. The cashier is on the verge of tears and calls security.)

Me: “Excuse me, but those items are indeed mine. I spent almost two hours here with my grandmother trying to find them. If you want, I can tell you where I found them.”

Customer: “LIES! You stole them from me! B***h, you are gonna get SUED!”

(At this moment, security shows up.)

Security: *to the other customer* “Oh, no, she isn’t. Lady, we have to talk with you.”

Customer: “About time! Take this trailer trash outta the store! Stealing my things! It’s a crime. I’ll sue you and your store and this b**** for thievery!”

Security: “Lady, we have security cameras in the store. We checked them and discovered you have been the one stealing. So, you’re going to have to come with us.”

Customer: “LIKE H*** I AM!” *runs out of the store with security chasing her*

Cashier: *to my grandmother and me* “I am so sorry. Would you like store credit or something?”

(My grandmother and I talk and decide not to take it because it wasn’t the store’s fault. Instead, I pay for my items and we leave. On our way out, we see the other customer is being questioned by police.)

Grandmother: *to the other customer* “B****! You got what you deserved. Karma got you back, fool!”

(My dad is standing in an express line at the grocery store. In front of him is a well-to-do-looking woman, who clearly has several more items than the limit.)

Dad: “You know, it’s amazing that someone who is apparently so successful can’t read.”

Woman: *in a huff* “That sign’s for regular people, not for me!”

(An old man behind my dad taps him on the shoulder.)

Old Man: “Here, give her this.”

(My dad hands it to the woman.)

Woman: “What’s this?”

Old Man: “Metamucil. It’ll make you regular.”

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