(I’m on my way home and just got off the train. I stop at a bench on the platform to take my headphones out of my backpack to listen to some music. When I turn around to leave, there’s a girl in her early twenties standing in front of me, looking a bit pale but otherwise fairly well off.)

Girl: *unintelligible due to the music*

Me: *taking off headphones* “Pardon?”

Girl: *smiling brightly, holding out her hand* “Hello, could you give me some money?”

Me: *smiling just as brightly* “Definitely not!”

(I then start walking towards the stairs. Apparently, that makes her snap.)

Girl: “Hellooooo? I’M HUNGRY!”

Me: *over the shoulder* “So am I.”

Girl: “I’m hungry and you’re not showing mercy! You owe me mercy! YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME MONEY! I’M HUNGRY SO YOU OWE ME MONEY! HEARTLESS CRUEL C***!”

(She then threw a handful of coins at me that she’d probably begged off other people. I was already about 20m away by that point, so none of them hit me, but they rained all over the platform and the tracks. Seems like she didn’t need them that urgently.)

(I am fourteen years old but look like I’m nine. My computer teacher at school puts a cloth over everyone’s hands to practice touch typing. I do this while typing up an assignment in the public library. A stranger pulls the cloth away.)

Stranger: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Homework.”

(She looks over at my screen, and I block it because it is not her business.)

Stranger: “That’s not homework. You’re covering up because you are doing something bad. Why else would you cover the screen and your hands?”

(She chucks my cloth elsewhere.)

Me: “It is my homework, not yours, and the cloth is just how we were taught to touch type.”

Librarian: “Ma’am, please keep your voice down. Sweetie, is she bothering you? Where are your parents?”

(You have to be twelve to be here alone. I now see that the stranger is looking at my screen again.)

Me: “Hey!”

(The librarian turns off the monitor.)

Librarian: “Ma’am, please just go mind your business.”

Stranger: “She’s hiding something bad! A child doesn’t mean innocent.”

(A second librarian has arrived and is escorting her away. I turn back to the first librarian.)

Me: “I am fourteen, here alone, and I’m only doing homework. That stranger thought I was up to no good because I had that cloth over my hands, and it got worse when I covered my screen when she stared at it.”

Librarian: “I see. Let’s pick up that cloth she threw over there. Ignore that woman. We’ll keep an eye out.”

(I found out later that she has harassed others for various reasons.)

(My husband and I are walking down a street of bars and restaurants popular with local university students. It’s fairly unusual to see panhandlers in this part of town. We are approached by a middle-aged woman who looks like she’s been crying.)

Woman: “Excuse me. I’m so sorry, but my car broke down and I can’t get home. Someone called me a taxi but I can’t pay them. Can you help me?”

(My husband and I are always uncomfortable in these situations because we have a lot of sympathy for people who are down on their luck, but there are also a lot of scammers out there, and it can be difficult to tell the two apart.)

Me: “Um, I’m sorry, but neither of us really carry cash, so…”

(We go back and forth with the woman for a few minutes — “Don’t you have a little change?” “Can you go to an ATM?” — because unfortunately, neither my husband nor I have the blunt social skills to be good at exiting these types of situations. I see a taxi pull up. The driver and I make eye contact. He looks at me, looks at the woman, and slowly shakes his head. The woman also sees this.)

Woman: *now screaming* “You won’t help me because I’m [race]! That taxi driver is [same race] and he won’t even help me! I just need a way home! Help me, help me, help!”

(She is now full-on sobbing and screaming in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Extremely uncomfortable but not wanting to be confrontational, I finally mumble, “Sorry,” and pull my husband away. We had plans to meet friends in a bar on that street, but I’m fairly shaken up so we just end up going home. Fast forward a few months. We’re walking down that same street, and I spot the same woman on a cell phone. The closer we get, the louder she begins to talk, something about a broken down vehicle and calling a taxi. She hangs up just we are passing by because our car is parked on the street right next to her.)

Woman: *calling out to us cheerfully and clearly not recognizing us* “Hello, lovely couple!”

Both Of Us: “No, thank you!” *jumps in car and leaves*

(If you’re going to scam people, at least change your story often enough that the taxi driver won’t call you out in front of the same exact people you try to scam a few months later.)

(My friend works at a shopping center car park near where he lives. On a rather busy day, he watches as someone tries to pull into a space, but a woman suddenly runs into said space when he is halfway in.)

Woman: “Reserved! Reserved!”

Driver: *after winding the window down* “You can’t do that.”

Woman: “Yes, I can! This place is reserved!”

(My friend walks over.)

Friend: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t reserve parking spaces. Besides, he’s already halfway in.”

Woman: “But I was here first!”

Friend: “No, you weren’t, and if you’re out here, where’s your car?”

(She points to the car behind the first; an elderly couple are sat in the front.)

Woman: “Those are my parents. I got out in order to look for a space.”

Friend: “It doesn’t work like that, ma’am. This driver was here before you.”

Woman: “No, he f****** wasn’t!”

(The woman stands there for the next few minutes, refusing to move. A line of cars begins to form, all honking. Finally, the woman has enough and storms over to her car.)

Woman: “F*** you!”

(The driver of the first car pulls all the way in, and he opens the door to climb out.)

Friend: “Sorry about that.”

Driver: “It wasn’t your fault.”

(By this time, the woman has climbed into the back of her car, and she gives them the middle finger repeatedly. The driver then blows her a kiss. We need more drivers like this.)

(I’m on my lunch break and stop to purchase a lottery ticket. I’m wearing my hoodie with my company logo on. A customer behind me in the queue decides to start a conversation.)

Customer: *pointing at my lottery ticket* “Ooh, you know gambling isn’t good for you!”

(I smile politely.)

Customer: “A nice young girl like you shouldn’t be wasting your money on that. You do know that it’s gambling, don’t you? It’s not good for you!”

(I laugh awkwardly and turn to pay for my ticket.)

Customer: “Ooh, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you! People shouldn’t be gambling like that, especially not people like you. Don’t you think?”

(I point at the logo on my hoodie to reveal that I work for a betting company with “Bet” in the title that is known nationwide.)

Me: “Well, if people stopped gambling, I’d be out of a job.”

(He opened his mouth to say something and then decided against it, but looked at me very judgmentally until I left.)