I used to be bullied in junior high school by the “popular kids” back in my home country, so I have always tried to distance myself from those kinds of popular kids so as not to be bullied.

Fast forward to my university life. I do not have a job and am just living off of a piece of bread and a bowl of oats a day. I only have $20 to survive for the next two weeks. 

Out of nowhere, a classmate of mine — the popular kind of kid — whom I have never actually talked to invites me to come over to his place to cook together and have dinner with his housemates. Instinctively, I refuse, but after a bit of persuasion, I decide to come over. 

I go there and help with the cooking and they all like it! I used to cook at home, so I can actually cook pretty well. He then comes up with the idea to make this a daily routine where they all buy the ingredients and I’ll be the one doing the cooking. This really helps me a lot, since I can cut my expenses for food. 

Later on, it turns out that he actually realised that in the cafeteria, I mostly sat by myself and only had a piece of bread for lunch. Then, one day, he decided to ask me to come over for dinner. This really reminds me that there are actually good people out there, that really care about others.

(My husband had seven siblings who each had children long before we married. He would never have anything to do with his nieces and nephews when they were babies, telling me that all babies were ugly. But when our daughter was born, he fell in love, and gushed over how beautiful she was. He constantly takes photos of her. About a week after we brought her home a package of photos that were taken at the hospital arrives by post, and he carries it in for me.)

Husband: “There’s a package for you.”

Me: *opening* “Oh, it’s the photos that were taken of [Daughter] at the hospital.”

Husband: “Show me.” *looks at photos* “That’s not [Daughter].”

Me: “Yes, it is.” *pulls out the invoice for the photos*

Husband: “No, she was never this ugly. What’s that you have in your hand?”

Me: “The invoice for the photos; we need to decide which sizes do we want to keep and pay for them.”

Husband: “No, they can be sent back. That’s not our daughter; she was never that ugly.”

(I am at a car-boot sale and am waiting behind an obviously Muslim lady who is going through a box of jewelry at one stall. She picks up a piece of costume jewelry.)

Lady: “Excuse me. How much is this, please?”

Stall Holder: *rudely* “$10.”

Lady: “Oh, it’s a bit much; can you make it a bit cheaper?”

Stall Holder: “Nope, $10.”

(The lady leaves and I pick up a couple of items that have caught my eye.)

Stall Holder: *sweetly, but loud enough for the other lady to still hear* ” “For you, fifty-cents each.”

(I handed over the $1. It was only later I realised what had happened. The stall holder had tried to rip off the other lady on a piece of junk jewelry, but had actually ripped herself off because later, I found out that the items she sold me were worth almost $200.)

(I am at the head office today. We manage an outlying clinic, open two days a week, that is due for a fire safety check. It’s late in the afternoon when I answer the phone.)

Fire Safety Rep: “Yeah, I’m at your clinic to do the check and no one’s here!”

Me: “I’m sorry, where are you calling from?”

Fire Safety Rep: “I’m here at your clinic to do your fire safety check and there’s no one here! Our office was told you’d be here on Tuesdays and Thursdays, your sign at the front says you are open Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I’m here waiting and ready and there’s no one here!”

Me: “Today’s Wednesday.”

Fire Safety Rep: “Oh, s***!” *hangs up*

(We sell chicken, and ALL products other than chips and veggies are chicken-based. I’m working the drive-thru, the headset, and the front counter, as well as packing all of the orders. Basically, five days a week, I’m the only day-working cashier. This particular male customer comes through our drive-thru.)

Me: “Hi. Welcome to [Store]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Give me a chicken burger.”

Me: “No worries. Which burger would you like?”

Customer: “The chicken burger.”

Me: “Yep, so which chicken burger would you like?”

Customer: “JUST GIVE ME A F****** CHICKEN BURGER!”

Me: “Sorry, all of our burgers are chicken. We have–” *lists the different burgers* “Which one would you like?”

Customer: “THE F****** CHICKEN ONE!”

Me: “I’m sorry, there’s no need to swear or be rude. I’m just trying to clarify your order.”

Customer: “I’VE TOLD YOU THREE TIMES WHAT I F****** WANT AND YOU AREN’T DOING IT!”

Me: “Yes, I understand that you would like a chicken burger, but all of our burgers are chicken.”

Customer: “JUST GIVE ME THE FIRST ONE!”

Me: “Would you like the BBQ bacon and chicken burger?”

Customer: “I CAN’T F****** EAT BACON! I JUST WANT A F****** CHICKEN BURGER!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. Like I said, there’s no need to swear, yell, or be rude.”

Customer: “I’M NOT BEING F****** RUDE! YOU ARE!”

(After this goes on for a bit, he finally names which one he would like and speeds through to the window. I have to serve another customer and pack the other orders waiting before I can pay off his order. I open the window.)

Me: “Hi, sorry about the wait. That’s—“

Customer: “I WANT TO TALK TO YOUR F****** MANAGER, RIGHT NOW.”

(I turn around and get my manager, and I hear the customer screaming about how I was rude to him and obviously ignoring him when he got to the window. My manager explains that I had to serve another customer. The manager leaves and I go to pay off the order.)

Me: “So, that comes to $4.95.”

Customer: “No, it doesn’t. You’re giving me my food for free.”

Me: “Unless you’ve paid, I can’t give you your food.”

Customer: “I hope your f****** fat a** gives you diabetes and you f****** drop dead, you piece of s***!”

Me: “Have a nice day.”

Customer: “You haven’t given me my food yet!”

Me: “I’ve just cancelled your order. Have a nice day.”

(I then shut the window, and while he was watching, I dropped his burger into the bin.)