I am working part-time in a drug store, running a register. I’m seventeen years old, but most people think I look significantly older — some have mistaken me for thirty! Having a full beard just adds to it.

This drug store is smack-dab in the middle of my school’s district, so all of the teenagers who shop there go to the same high school I do. I also see their parents, many of whom I recognize. Usually, I’ll say, “Oh, you’re what’s-his-name’s Mom/Dad,” and make brief small talk, and off they go.

One day, a lady comes in with a last name on the check that I recognize, but I can’t fully place it. When she shows me her ID, I see a small pic next to it with her and her two daughters, and I QUICKLY recognize them. One is in my graduating class, and the other is two years behind but has a class with me.

Me: “Oh, you’re [Classmate]’s mom! I thought you looked—”

She QUICKLY slams her checkbook shut with a horrified look on her face.

Classmate’s Mom: “How do you know my daughters?! They’re only high schoolers!”

It takes me a second to get over the initial shock of her reaction and another second for me to realize the reason; she’s wondering why this “old guy” is hanging around teenage girls, ESPECIALLY her daughter!

Me: “Uh, ma’am? I’m seventeen.”

We both had a good laugh about it. She learned not to jump to conclusions, and I learned I should SHAVE more often.

I am a senior manager at my company, and for the most part, I get on well with my colleagues. My company hires an eighteen-year-old kid as a general worker for a certain department. He has nothing to do with my role or department. I meet him briefly once or twice and he seems a little bit strange. Quickly, I hear on the grapevine that he’s been irritating some of his coworkers with some dumb antics.

Then, for no reason, [New Hire] begins to come into my office daily. Whenever he comes in, he never knocks, and then he begins talking in some weird, indecipherable voice and starts stumbling around comically. He then laughs and quickly runs out of my office.

At first, I brush it off as just odd, but after a few days of this, I finally lose patience and snap. 

Me: “LOOK, YOU LITTLE PRAT, I HAVE F****** WORK TO DO! WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

The kid looks as if he’s just been shot and quickly drains of colour. He then stands there awkwardly.

Me: “WHY DO YOU KEEP BARGING INTO MY OFFICE? CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY? WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

His bottom lip starts to quiver, and I’m worried he’s going to wet himself right there and then.

Me: “GO ON, GET OUT!”

He practically sprints out of the office. I email my superior to advise what has happened. Not long afterward, I get a call from the kid’s manager. 

Manager: “[My Name], what on earth happened between you and [New Hire]? He’s claiming that you threatened to punch him, and now he’s going around saying you want to fight him in the car park after work and he’s asking people to back him up! What is going on?”

Me: “No, that’s not at all what happened. He keeps randomly coming to my office, speaking in a strange voice, and stumbling around. Frankly, he’s been a pain in the a** all week! I told him off and advised him that he get lost and go back to work. I never threatened him.”

Manager: “Sorry… You said he’s been bothering you all week?”

Me: “Yes, I didn’t want to disturb you, and I know he’s new, but this is getting out of hand.”

Manager: “Hmmm… He definitely didn’t mention that part! He’s been causing a few issues here; I’ve had to have words with him a few times. He seems to think he’s hilarious and that everyone loves his pranks. I will have a talk and get back to you. Sorry about this.”

A couple of hours later, I get another phone call from [Manager].

Manager: “Okay… I have no idea where the h*** this one started! His excuse was that he ‘thought you were Scottish,’ so apparently, his stumbling around your office was him impersonating a drunk Scotsman! He seemed to think you’d find it funny! No idea where the h*** he got this one from, especially with your accent.”

I have a very posh, southern English accent that is impossible to be mistaken for Scottish. I laugh heavily at this one. 

Me: “You’re kidding me, really?”

Manager: “I told him that, regardless of your nationality, what he did was heavily unprofessional and immature. Human Resources will have a talk with him, but it’s been made clear that he’s on thin ice now. I’ve made it clear that he’s banned from entering any offices without permission from me first. I really do apologize about this one. No idea what he was thinking.”

Every time I saw that kid after, he would scamper away like I was on fire. He didn’t last long at the company as his poor work combined with his annoying behaviour didn’t endear him to the company.

I work at an office supply store with a big copy and printing department. My boss is insistent that we speak with every customer on the floor at least once. We’ve recently had several thefts. Two days ago, I asked a man if he needed any help. He got spooked and ran out the door, setting off the security alarm. Earlier today, another customer ran out the door with a shopping cart full of stolen items.

It’s getting close to the end of my shift, and I see a teenage girl toward the back of the store browsing the shelves. I walk up to her.

Me: “Good evening, miss. Is there anything I can help you find today?”

Her eyes go wide, and she stares at me for a few seconds, like a deer caught in headlights.

Me: “Is that a no?”

She then started running toward the front of the store in a full sprint. I got on the radio and said we had a shoplifter. I watched as the girl approached the front door and… turned and ran toward our printing department instead. She sat down at one of our self-service computers and put on a pair of headphones.

Turns out, she was there with her father, who was getting a big printing order done, and she was just browsing while they waited. I never really got an explanation for her behavior, but she hadn’t stolen anything. My guess is that she had some kind of social anxiety.

A year or two after I graduated college, I was lucky enough to have gotten a pretty well-paying job but found myself not sure what to do with my new income. After spending pretty much my entire life scraping and saving to try to afford to make it through college, it had become such a habit that it now felt somehow decadent and wrong to actually spend the money I was earning!

To help get over that feeling of wasteful extravagance I got when I spent money on non-necessities, I had ironically opted to try tithing despite being an atheist. I figured if I gave 10% of my money to charity, I wouldn’t feel guilty about spending the rest on myself. In practice, I instead still kept pretty close to my starving college student lifestyle with the remaining income going toward first paying off the few student loans I’d had to take my last semester of college and then building up a sizable nest egg for emergencies. It turns out that cheapness is a hard habit to break!

One day, a teen came knocking on my door. I answered it and he immediately went on a spiel about how he was selling magazines for some company, and if I would purchase a subscription, some amount of it would go toward covering his college expenses.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t really need or want any of these magazines.”

Teen: “But it would help me to pay for college. You could purchase something just to help.”

Me: “Yeah, I get that, and I want to help, but I donate all my charitable donations through [Charity Assessment Organization] because I know they will help ensure it’s used as efficiently as possible. Buying magazines isn’t exactly an efficient way of helping anyone, sorry.”

Teen: “Helping someone through college is definitely a good source of charity.”

Me: “But that’s not where most of the money goes. I bet you would get more out of me just handing you a dollar or two for your college fund now than if I got a subscription, and that would still be twenty dollars less for me since I’m not going to want to read any of these magazines anyway.”

Teen: “I’d be happy to accept direct donations to my college fund, as well!”

Me: “Then I wouldn’t have any way of making sure you used the money well for college. I’m sorry. I’d like to help, but I’m afraid I have to stick with known and proven charities for my donations so I know I’m getting the most out of them.”

Teen: “But if you—”

Me: *Interrupting a little* “I’m sorry, but the answer is no.”

Here, the teen got a furious look and snatched the book that listed all the magazines they sold out of my hand.

Teen: “Fine. Be selfish, you a**hole. I don’t need your help, anyway.”

He then somehow managed to slam the door on me while leaving my house. Apparently, giving a bunch of your money to save babies from dying of easily preventable diseases is selfish if you don’t also waste more of it buying things you don’t need or giving cash to a demanding teen and hoping he uses it well. I’m sorry for being such a selfish b*****d.

The furniture displays in my store are on platforms positioned in each of the four corners. Their very existence drives everyone crazy because — despite the large signs telling customers that they must not go on the platforms for safety reasons — it seems like at least once a day we’re chasing away someone who has decided to climb up there. It’s a big store, so sometimes it takes a while for us to catch someone.

I arrive for my evening shift; I’m a supervisor. The display platform nearest our employee rooms happens to currently be depicting bedroom furniture, and I feel like I’m constantly checking the pillows on the bed to make sure they haven’t been messed up. Usually, they have.

Today, however, they’re not only messed up but they’re arranged in a pile over someone’s head — a fact I only realize when it dawns on me that I’m seeing a pair of sneakers sticking off of one side of the bed. Someone is lying face-down on the mattress with pillows over her head.

Me: “Excuse me.”

The individual, a teenage girl, doesn’t move. I reach out and pat her sneaker a few times, which makes her jolt.

Me: “Miss, you can’t be on the display!”

Girl: “I’m sorry… I was just trying to sleep.”

Me: *Blinking* “Well, you can’t do that! See the sign? Please get off!”

She scuttled away, looking embarrassed. Honestly, people, if you’re that tired, then don’t come out shopping!