In the UK, if you have babies and young children and are on a very low income or receive certain benefits, you’re given vouchers to use when you’re buying fruit and veg, milk, and baby formula. There are very specific rules to what is and is not covered by the vouchers. You wouldn’t believe the number of arguments I’ve had with entitled idiots over the use of these coupons!

Customer #1: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I CAN’T USE THEM TO BUY CHIPS?! CHIPS ARE A VEGETABLE!”

No, they are a processed food item.

Customer #2: “THE LADY AT THE OFF-LICENCE LETS ME BUY BEER WITH THEM, SO YOU HAVE TO, TOO!”

No, that’s either a lie or illegal, as these are GOVERNMENT-ISSUED and you’re supposed to use them to feed your babies.

Customer #3: “YOU OWE ME CHANGE! I DIDN’T SPEND THE TOTAL VALUE!”

I am not allowed to give change because my till will only let you use it for the exact amount; otherwise, I’m prompted “insufficient” and, therefore, I’ll either give you back your coupon to use next time or ask if you want to buy something else to make up the amount.

Customer #4: “HOW THE F*** DO YOU KNOW WHAT I CAN OR CANNOT BUY WITH THEM?!”

It’s literally printed in bold font on the front AND back of every coupon.

The list is endless.

I am the deputy manager of a liquor store. In the UK, one can purchase alcohol for your own consumption from the age of eighteen, but it is illegal to purchase alcohol on behalf of a minor.

A woman enters and is shortly followed by two girls dressed in full school uniforms. As the woman browses, the two girls walk to the counter I am standing at and, as I look on in bemusement, review our selection of alcopops. Then, the woman joins them at the counter and asks them what they want. In full view of the CCTV cameras and me, the girls literally stand and point out what they want.

Customer: “I’ll have two of your large bottles of [Alcopop], too.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I have to refuse that sale unless the two young ladies accompanying you can show me their IDs.”

Customer: “What?! That’s outrageous! Why?!”

Me: “Well, I have to remind you that it is illegal to buy alcohol on behalf of a minor.”

Customer: “They are my daughters! They can drink in my home if I tell them they can, and who are you to say that they can’t?!”

Me: “Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing that they are your daughters. What I do have is CCTV footage — which will be reviewed by the police — that shows school children selecting alcohol for you to buy them. There is no way I could process this sale and keep my job.”

Customer: “This is outrageous. I’m just going to go and buy the same things at a different location.”

And then they stormed off. I later learned that there is, in fact, a provision in law where children of a certain age under eighteen can drink alcohol at home under the supervision of their legal guardian, but who thinks sending in children in full school uniform to buy booze is a good idea?!

I was due to emigrate, but unfortunately, things were delayed. After a while, with money tight, I took a temporary job, any job I could find. It was particularly hard to find part-time work as no one wanted to hire an engineering manager to stack shelves or flip burgers.

But I found a supermarket nearby and got the job.

I’m pretty used to working hard in every job I do, so I did the same in this role. I was the first one there and the last one out. I took any job and task just to keep busy. I wasn’t trying to impress; it’s just the person I am.

I got a lot of hate from my coworkers; they saw me as a suck-up and a try-hard, no matter how much I tried to explain. But truly, I didn’t care what they said. In a month or two, I would be gone; they could hate me if they wanted for a while.

On the other hand, the management loved me; I didn’t call in sick, I worked without complaint, and I did as many hours as I could. In turn, I got the first pick on hours which, again, didn’t make me popular. 

Coworker: “Oh, I see someone got the weekend shift again.”

I ignore him.

Coworker: “Why is that, huh? Huh, bootlicker?”

Me: “Oh, talking to me? Well, if I had to guess, don’t be a massive screw-up who makes the same mistakes day in, day out.”

Coworker: “Mr. Perfect doesn’t make mistakes? Oh, why can’t we all be like Mr. Perfect?”

Me: “You put the stock in the right aisle; it’s not rocket science. How you manage to screw it up so often is beyond me.”

One of the managers walks in behind [Coworker]. I shut up. [Coworker] doesn’t.

Coworker: “Oh, so easy, that’s why you couldn’t do your own job? Why is it they fired you from your fancy engineering job?”

Manager: “[Coworker]!”

Coworker: “Some dumba** comes down here and sucks the d**k of these f***y, stupid, idiot managers.”

Manager: “[Coworker]!”

Coworker: *Finally turning around* “What? Oh, look who’s getting in trouble again!”

[Coworker] was led away; he didn’t return. With [Coworker] gone, the atmosphere changed, and suddenly, everyone was a lot friendlier. I made a few friends before I left. It’s amazing what one person can do to make life so difficult.

The work cafeteria is always overly generous with the little sauce sachets. Rather than putting them in the bin, I put them in my desk. Apparently, this is “weird” according to [Coworker] and a sign of hoarding. I have at most six; if I don’t get through them, someone will forget to pick one up and I give them one from my drawer.

I’ve been on a diet recently, so I have been bringing in my own lunch.

Coworker: *Sighs* “Do you have any tomato sauce?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Coworker: “You didn’t even look!”

Me: “No, but I know I don’t have any.”

Coworker: *Shouting* “Liar! You have hundreds in there! Now, suddenly, I ask for one and you run out?!”

Me: “Apparently so.”

Coworker: “Right! I’m not having this!”

She marches off and returns with a very confused woman from HR.

HR Employee: “What is this all about?”

[Coworker] looks at me with a smug expression.

Me: “[Coworker] asked to have some sauce, but I don’t have any.”

HR Employee: “Sorry, what?”

Coworker: “He’s lying. He has loads. He’s a hoarder!”

Me: *To the HR employee* “You can look if you like?”

I open the drawer I do have the odd packet but no sauce.

HR Employee: “Okay, well… I don’t really see an issue here. [Coworker], can you walk with me?”

I don’t know what is said, but it looks like [Coworker] has a bit of a reality check. I think the matter solved, but then I’m invited to another meeting with a senior HR staff.

Senior HR: “I presume you know why you’re here?”

Me: “I guess, but it all seems a bit of a waste of time.”

Senior HR: “I would agree, but a complaint has been made and I need to review it with you.”

Me: “Okay? So, [Coworker] complained that I didn’t give her my property, which I didn’t have.”

Senior HR: “Pretty much.”

Me: “So…? Was there anything else to discuss?”

Senior HR: “No. Thanks for taking the time to see me. I will recommend that this matter is dropped and [Coworker] apologises.”

Me: “Oh, that’s it? Great, thanks.”

[Coworker] never apologised but did at least avoid me from then on. Little victories.

A friend and I are having a long-overdue catch-up over dinner and drinks. We’ve not long finished our meal and are waiting for another round of drinks while we think about dessert.

Waitress: “Sorry, can I ask that I move you to the bar if you’re only drinking?”

Seems like a reasonable request, if a little odd, as there seem to be plenty of tables available.

Me: “We were actually just talking about having dessert.”

Waitress: *Terse* “Well, are you having dessert, then?”

Friend: “We wanted a moment to decide.”

Waitress: “Okay, but we do need the table.”

Again, lots of tables are available. It isn’t as if it is about to get busy, either. The drinks take a while to get to us. By then, we decide to order dessert, and my friend goes to the toilet. No sooner has she left the table than the waitress appears with two women.

Waitress: “Oh, I thought you left.”

Me: “Nope.”

Waitress: “Well, as you’re not eating, you need to move.”

Me: “We are eating; we are just waiting for our food.”

Waitress: “You need to move.”

Me: “No, I really don’t.”

Woman: “It’s okay. We can sit somewhere else.”

Waitress: “No, it’s not okay.” *To me* “Come on, move!”

Woman: “Look, there are lots of tables left. We can sit by the bar. It’s okay.”

Waitress: “No, Mum. You want a window seat and there’s one right here.”

She gestures to me.

Me: “Just get your manager. I’m not moving.”

She stared at me, but eventually, her mother talked her round and she sat her at one of the other tables. We had our dessert and a few more drinks and didn’t bother ever going back.