(In my teens, I used to dance competitively. If you’ve ever been to a dance competition, you know that even the young kids have to wear a LOT of stage makeup. This happens right after a competition day. My family has taken me to a restaurant for dinner to celebrate my new medals. I’m tired and sweaty, not all of my makeup would come off, and the waiting area is standing-room-only, so with my parents’ permission, I step out to a bench directly outside the waiting area. It’s a cool night, so I sprawl out on the bench and am soaking in the cool breeze when I hear voices nearby. I sit up and see some guys around eighteen or nineteen pointing at me and nudging each other. Before I can really ascertain what they are doing, one of them comes over to sit next to me.)

Guy: “Hey there. What are you doing here all alone?”

Me: *immediately flashing back to school warnings of strangers in white vans offering candy* “U-um… my parents are right in there!”

Guy: “Ugh, parents, right?”

Me: *visible confusion* “Um… yeah?”

Guy: “So, are you from around here?”

(The conversation continues for a few minutes with me giving vague, confused answers while the guy’s buddies stand around snickering at their friend apparently getting nowhere. I still haven’t figured out what’s going on, but then…)

Guy: “You’re kind of young, aren’t you? How old are you?”

Me: *honestly* “Th-thirteen…”

Guy: *jumping off the bench like it is white-hot* “WHOA! Okay! You have a great night, hon! Uh… call me in like… five years!”

(He bolted, his friends following after howling with laughter. I uneasily returned inside. My mom nearly had a heart attack when I recounted the exchange to her. Somehow she managed to miss the whole thing, even though I was within line-of-sight!)

(I am visiting another state to attend a convention that my dad volunteers for every year. My mother and I are out shopping for some snacks. An old lady seems to be following us through the grocery store, until she finally speaks up.)

Old Lady: “Why aren’t you in school?”

Mom: “We’re on vacation.”

(It’s not a lie. I am still being homeschooled at this time, but during the convention I don’t have to do any school work.)

Old Lady: “That’s irresponsible! You shouldn’t go on vacation during the school year. Your daughter isn’t going to pass her classes.”

Me: “It’s fine. I’m homeschooled so I can do my work whenever I want.”

(The old lady is aghast at this point, so I slide closer to my mom. We’ve had so many interactions like this that I know what’s coming.)

Old Lady: “Homeschooled?! How horrible! You’ll never get into college or get a good job! And how will you get a husband with such poor socialization?”

Mom: “Hey! Don’t talk to my daughter that way. Get away from us.”

(The old lady grabs my mom’s arm and yanks her towards her. The cashier sees this happen and picks up the phone while the old lady chews out my mom.)

Old Lady: “You are ruining her life! She’s going to be stupid and too shy to do anything!”

Me: “Let go of my mom!”

Old Lady: “Don’t talk back to your elders!”

(She raises her hand to me, but my mom blocks her and then pulls her own arm away.)

Mom: “If you touch either of us again, I will be pressing charges. Look up, dumba**. You’re on camera, and the cashier already called the cops.”

(The old lady backed off and went back to shopping as if nothing had ever happened. When the police finally arrived, they took everyone’s statements but did little else.)

(In Brisbane, where I live, passenger trains typically have six carriages. Carriages two and five are designated “quiet carriages,” and passengers are requested not to talk loudly or play loud music or electronic devices. I like sitting in these carriages on my way to and from work because I’m very much an introvert and struggle with having a lot of people around me. These little areas of — relative — peace and tranquility make my hour-long commute so much more bearable. This story starts a couple of stops down the line from mine when a lady gets up out of her seat, walks to the door area, and loudly announces:)

Passenger: “Hello, train people!” 

(She then starts to ramble on about getting up and moving, and says something about dancing before playing some music on her phone. She then turns to the nearest person, which happens to be me, and tries to get me up to dance. At this, I simply pull one of my earbuds out of my ear, point to the “quiet carriage” sign on the window, and say:)

Me: “Just so you know, this is a quiet carriage.”

(She looks where I’m pointing, reads the bit about no loud music or talking, turns back to me, and says:)

Passenger: “Oh, do you want me to get off, then?”

(I am a bit taken aback that she hasn’t even made the smallest attempt to apologise for disturbing the carriage, so I say:)

Me: “Actually, if you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

Passenger: “I’ve got so much love in my heart. Do you need a hug?”

(I’m not proud of my reply, but all I want is to do was sit in peace on my way to work.)

Me: “No, I need you to shut up.”

(It did the trick, though, because she packed up her stuff and moved to another carriage.)

My three-year-old daughter recently got a betta fish as a first pet, and one afternoon we go to the local pet store to buy a decoration for his tank. She picks out a yellow submarine and proudly walks it to the checkout counter.

As I’m paying, I feel something large and fuzzy bump into me, sending my daughter a few steps back, as well. A massive dog has jumped onto the counter and pulled the submarine down, breaking it. The dog is bigger than my daughter and she begins to cry because she can’t get to me. 

The woman holding the dog gives a token apology while doing little to rein the dog in. I have to move past the dog and pick up my daughter, who is starting to cry. The lady then proceeds to say there’s no reason to worry; her dog is fine — I wasn’t worried about the dog.

She then proceeds to talk to the clerk checking me out, demanding to know if another employee is working, all while he’s still trying to process my payment. 

The clerk discounts the damaged submarine and I head out, clutching my crying daughter, all while the woman with the dog that’s too big for her to control sits there, unsure why everyone is upset. I’ve always liked dogs, but now I know I don’t like dog people!

(I’ve stopped by a local 24/7 store. There are a couple of people in line in front of me. A woman walks up behind me.)

Woman: *clears her throat and coughs* “I left my wallet in the car.”  

(I don’t react because I really don’t think she is talking to me.)

Woman: *nudges me with her arm* “Did you hear me? I left my wallet in the car.”

Me: “Okay?”

(I get to the counter and she steps up next to me, drops her stuff, and tells the clerk:)

Woman: “I need [Brand] cigarettes.” 

(The clerk rings up my stuff, then swipes the cigarettes.)

Clerk: “May I see your ID, sir?”

Me: “Um, those aren’t mine.”

(The clerk looks from me to the woman and back.)

Woman: “Oh, it’s okay. I told you, my wallet’s in the car.”

Me: “And?” *shaking my head at the clerk* “Take them off, please. I’m not buying cigarettes.”

Woman: “But… I told you…”

Me: “And I would assume that’s your car parked right outside the door. I’m sure they’ll hold everything for you.”

Woman: “Look, my money is right outside in the car.”

Me: “No.”

Woman: “No?! What do you mean, no? You’re calling me a liar?”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t know you and am not calling you anything. ‘No’ means I won’t loan you any money.”

Woman: “Not even just until I walk to my car? I can’t believe you!”

Me: “And I can’t believe you think that I’m just going to buy you cigarettes with my own money when your car is literally right outside the door with the wallet inside.”

Woman: “You seriously won’t save me a few steps when you know I can pay you back in just a few minutes?”

(I don’t know that, actually. She could be lying about her wallet, and then I’d be out the money. This lady has gall to pull a scam like this. Before I can say this, a customer who csme in behind her speaks up.)

Other Customer: “Look, lady, either walk out and get your money, or walk out and get in your car. Either way, walk out.”

Clerk: “Ma’am, if you want cigarettes, I need to see your ID, as well.”

(The woman huffed loudly and stormed out. I could see her sitting in her vehicle glaring at me as I left. She was making no move to grab her supposed wallet, so I suspect I dodged a pretty obvious bullet. I called the non-emergency police number and let them know that this lady was lurking around the store trying to get people to buy cigarettes with no ID, and they reassured me that they’d send a patrol car around. I just found it kind of amazing that she was pulling a pretty obvious scam right in front of a store clerk, and it never occurred to her that her lack of an ID would trip her up, anyway.)