(I’m 19 but look a LOT younger than my age. I’m driving home from college for winter break. I stop at a gas station at the halfway point for coffee, and when I go to check out, an older gentleman gets in line behind me. I can feel him inching closer to me than he needs to. I pull out my cellphone both to pass the time and to text my roommate about how uncomfortable I’m getting; when I’m halfway into the text, I can feel him literally looming over my shoulder.) 

Older Man: “What would you do without that cellphone, huh?”

Me: *chuckling to play along* “I’d probably be lost—“

(I was about to explain I was using it as a GPS, but he interjects quickly.)

Older Man: “You’d probably have a lot more time to communicate with people. I bet you don’t even know the English language, do ye?”

Me: “Actually, I do. I’m an English major.” 

(He went pretty much quiet after that, and continued to stay within five inches of my personal space until it was my turn. Even the cashier looked sorry. I’m always a fan of small talk, but maybe don’t open with an attack?)

(My family and I are at a parade, walking in an area blocked off from cars. We see a car turn in so I grab my youngest sister and she gets mad.)

Me: *loud enough for the driver to hear* “Sorry, sis, someone is turning in where they aren’t supposed to. I had to get you out of the road.”

Driver: “Well, I own this building! And I have permission to be here. Because I own this building!”

Mom: “But that doesn’t give you the right to run over whoever you want.”

Driver: “I was just trying to get to my building that I own!’

Dad: “At the expense of my family?”

(I’m browsing at a boutique that carries a bunch of brands that are popular with models and influencers. I’m a big fan of one these brands that creates stunning clothes, but they’re fairly pricey so I rarely buy, and only when they’re on sale. Still, I treasure the items I do get, like the dress I am actually wearing today to the boutique. It was part of their collection two years ago, so it’s not sold at the store anymore. While I’m looking at a couple of dresses, I feel a hand grab me from behind. I whip around and see a statuesque woman staring at my dress.)

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “That’s the [dress] dress! I wanted to get that, but it’s been sold out everywhere for ages. I’m so happy I finally found it.”

Me: “I don’t think they sell this here anymore. I’m sorry.”

Woman: “What do you mean? This looks like my size.”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “I’m an influencer, see? I need to have clothes that are both sexy and pretty. This dress is perfect!”

Me: “I don’t know what to tell you. You should ask a salesperson to help you.”

Woman: “I don’t need someone else to help me. This is what I want; it’d be perfect for my new Instagram post. I want to try on this dress now!”

Me: *incredulous at this point* “This is my dress. Now, please leave me alone.”

(I try to leave, but she’s blocking my way and I’m essentially backed up against the rack.)

Woman: *screeching now* “Why won’t you give me the dress?! Call your manager now!”

Me: “I don’t work here, and this is my dress. Now, get out of the way.”

Woman: “YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME THE DRESS! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IT! I’LL GET YOU FIRED, B****!”

(Having had enough of this, I try to push past her. She yanks at my dress as I’m leaving.)

Me: “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

Woman: “THIS IS MINE! A girl like you doesn’t deserve a dress this beautiful! I’ll do it justice!”

(I’m just panicking completely. I’m very close to tears and this woman just won’t let go of me.)

Me: “GET AWAY FROM ME!”

(She kept grabbing the dress and I tried to push her away. Suddenly, I heard a loud rip. She’d ripped off a sleeve, causing the front of the dress to fall down, essentially exposing my chest to an entire store full of people. I grabbed the front and burst into tears. I sat on the ground sobbing and I saw a store employee wrangle the woman away, while another came over to put a large wrap around me. The employee comforted me while we waited for the police. The woman was arrested when the police came, and she still kept screaming at me. I did press charges, but it didn’t really do much. She eventually got some community service for what she did, while I was left with the ruins of my favorite dress and the memory of being completely manhandled with my breasts on display for everyone to see.)

(I’m killing time at a library computer, mostly looking at pictures of cute animals on Instagram while listening to music. The guy next to me signals to get my attention.)

Me: *takes out one earbud* “Can I help you?”

Guy: “I see you’re looking at pictures of Dobermans. I can tell you all about the breed, you know.”

Me: *pause* “These are dachshunds.”

(If you’re going to pass yourself off as an expert to impress women at public libraries, maybe pick something you actually do know about.)

(I’m on vacation and I go to the hospital because I am sick. I’m female and my hair is only one centimeter long. A patient’s sister comes to me.)

Patient’s Sister: “Hey, what kind of cancer did you have? My sister is your age and has breast cancer. The doctor has two chemotherapy treatments and we don’t know which is better. Are you familiar with [treatments]?”

Me: “Um, no. It’s better you discuss it with the doctor. I know nothing about breast cancer.”

Patient’s Sister: “Oh, okay, I guess you had a different cancer, then. Good luck with your recovery.”

Me: “No, I never had any cancer. I’m here because I have a cold.”

Patient’s Sister: “But you’re nearly bald.”

Me: “So you just assumed I had chemotherapy?”

Patient’s Sister: “Oh, I’m so sorry. Then that means you’re a lesbian.”

Me: *sigh* “Okay, yes.”

Patient’s Sister: “I understand. Sorry for the assumption, then.”

(No, I’m not a lesbian, either, but I didn’t want to argue.)