(It’s Christmas, and a left-wing leisure organization hosts an event in the local theatre. The children go on stage with a Santa Claus impersonator, who gives them small presents. The kids are encouraged to tell rhymes or sing songs. I’m three years old.)

Me: “I want to go onstage!”

Mother: “What on earth for? You’re too young!”

Me: “I want to go! I want a present too!”

Mother: “But you don’t even know a rhyme!”

Me: “I know a song! I want to go!”

Father: “Let her go. Let’s see what she does.”

(I join the queue with the other kids, and finally it’s my turn to be onstage with Santa.)

Santa Impersonator: “Well, well, here’s a very young lady. What’s your name?”

Me: “I’m [name], and I want to sing a song.”

Santa Impersonator: *handing the microphone to me* “All right. What are you going to sing?”

Me: “I’m going to sing The Red Flag!”

(I start singing the theme song to socialism. Part of the audience stands up and sings with me, part is scandalized, and the rest are rolling with laughter. My parents had not been aware that their neighbour, a former partisan, had taught me the song!)

(It’s just before Thanksgiving, and I’m in line for the concession stand when I overhear two employees talking.)

Employee #1: “Hey [Name], what’re your plans Thanksgiving?”

Employee #2: “I’m working that day.”

Employee #1: “Seriously!? Aw man, I’m sorry.”

Employee #2: “Have you MET my family? They’re f****** insane! I asked to be on shift Thanksgiving.”

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(It’s the interval, so we’re busy behind the bar. I witness an exchange between a patron and a colleague. The patron is brandishing a £5 note.)

Patron: “Young man, you’ve short changed me! I gave you a £20 note!”

Colleague: “Are you sure, ma’am? Your change was £14; I would have given you a £10 note and coins. You’ve got a £10 note right there; are you sure that’s not the one I gave you?”

Patron: “This is what you’ve given me! Give me my money back! This is terrible service!”

(Not sure what to do, my colleague calls over a senior assistant for help. She opens his till.)

Senior Assistant: “Give the patron what she wants.”

(My colleague reluctantly hands the woman a further £5.)

Colleague: “Here’s your money; sorry about the mix-up.”

Patron: “Well? Aren’t you going to apologize?”

Colleague: “Excuse me?”

Patron: “You should apologize to me for giving such terrible service!”

Colleague: “Uh… I’m sorry.”

Patron: “No, you’re not. This is the worst service I’ve ever had at a bar!”

(When we cash up at the end of the night, surprise surprise, the till is £5 down. So not only was this woman rude and abrasive, but she was a thief as well. The kicker? Our manager said that we should have waited until after cashing up to see whether or not we should have given her any money… and the senior assistant who told us to agreed!)

(My friend and I are going to see a show at a downtown theater. However, she is on a breathing machine that needs to be recharged every few hours, and the machine has just died as we arrive there. I have already called ahead and spoken to several people who assure me that there are outlets in the lobby and offices she can use to charge it between acts since there are none near the actual seats.)

Me: “Perfect! There’s an outlet and a chair right at the front door. We have about 15 minutes until the show, so you can charge it until then.”

(I get her machine set up, as she is understandably not feeling well due to lack of oxygen. An usher sees and comes over.)

Usher: “Excuse me! You can’t use that outlet.”

Me: “No, it’s okay. I already talked to [head usher] on the phone and explained our situation. I know she preferred us to use the outlets in the back of the theatre, but we couldn’t get there in time.”

Usher: “Well, [head usher] isn’t here, but I’ll go see what [another head usher] says about this. I can’t imagine this is okay!”

(The usher goes to talk to another woman; I check on my friend. A few minutes later, she comes back.)

Usher: “[Another head usher] says she has no idea what you’re talking about. You’ll have to get up now and go to your seats.”

Me: “Listen, I’m really sorry, but that’s not possible. We need to charge the battery as long as possible so it doesn’t die again. [Head usher] already said we could charge it here.”

Usher: “Maybe [head usher] said you could charge it in the back offices, but not here! It is not our fault that your friend forgot to charge her cell phone.”

(Her breathing machine is about the size of a briefcase.)

Me: “Her cell phone? She’s charging her breathing machine! She needs to charge it until the show starts.”

Usher: *going very pale* “Her breathing machine? Well of course she can charge it! We don’t want her to not be able to breathe, do we?”

(The usher leaves us alone after that and afterwards, even shows us a nearby hotel that would let us charge the batteries in their lobby so we have enough power to get home!)

Me: “Good afternoon, [Online Ticket Website].”

Customer: “Your website is the worst.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I want help.”

Me: “Clearly. Would you like me to help you purchase tickets to a specific show?”

Customer: “Yes. I guess.”

Me: “What play?”

Customer: “Belleville.”

Me: “I apologize, ma’am. The entire run of Belleville is sold out.”

Customer: “No, it isn’t.”

Me: “Yes. It is.”

Customer: “Says who?”

Me: “Says me.”

Customer: “I WANT THOSE TICKETS! I WANT THEM NOW!”

Me: “Ma’am, there’s nothing I can do. The play is sold out, and I would suggest that you calm down as tickets to an off-Broadway play aren’t nearly as important as things like a roof over one’s head or food on one’s table.”

Customer: “MAYBE FOR YOU!” *click*

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