When I was in high school, the teachers changed the majority of their printed materials from white paper to pastel colours. This was apparently to help people with dyslexia and similar disabilities. I came home from school one day and told my dad the good news.

Dad: “Well, that’s stupid.”

Me: “What? Why?”

Dad: “Why can’t they just use normal paper? It’s a waste of resources to change the colour.”

Me: “But apparently, it helps dyslexic people to read better. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Dad: “Of course not! What do you think’s going to happen to those kids when they grow up?”

Me: “I… don’t know?”

Dad: “They’re going to go into the real world where they have to use white paper. Nobody’s going to use some coloured paper just because one of their employees can’t read on white paper.”

Me: “I guess, but—”

Dad: “Schools need to teach them how to read properly in the first place.”

Me: “Isn’t that what the coloured paper is supposed to help with?”

Dad: “No. It’s a waste of resources, and giving those kids an easy way out means they’ll just learn to rely on it and won’t be prepared for not having that in the real world.”

At that time, I believed that if my dad was talking so strongly about it, then he must be right. But nowadays, I’m thinking maybe he was wrong.

In my days of glorious retail, I worked at a well-known UK electronics store. In training, we were always told to take each customer on “the journey”. This meant talking to them and finding out what they wanted, what their issue was, and how we could provide a “solution” for it. In layman’s terms, we needed to find something that we could charge them ridiculous amounts for; 90% of the time, it could be purchased cheaper somewhere else. In the old days of retail, everything was about giving as much discount as necessary to make the sale, often giving things away to sweeten the deal, and making a fair amount of commission. A lot of customers still have this mindset, unfortunately.

I had a customer wanting a washing machine, a Dyson vacuum, a forty-inch LED TV, cables, and delivery. He was not taking the cover (extended warranty) on any product. To the bosses, this meant a less desirable sale as there was not much profit in it.

At the end of the sale, the customer came to me.

Customer: “So, what price are you going to give me for all of this?”

I looked at him and openly said:

Me: “I may be able to get you about £15 off, but that is about all.”

The man looked shocked.

Customer: “What?! I expect at least £100 to £150 off. If not, just give me the Dyson for free!”

In that moment, most people in customer service would do everything to help the customer. I, however, just laughed in his face. He acted confused, and I explained that I didn’t get commission, just a salary and bonus on performance. He walked out, saying he could get a better deal at a now-defunct retail chain.

Two weeks later, he came back in, saw me, and said he wanted those products. I did the order again and he scoffed at the price.

Customer: “Why has it gone up £35?”

Me: “Some of those items were previously on a deal that has now ended.”

Of course, he complained, but he was told to pay or just go away. I happily took the sale with the classic customer service smile.

Our store has two cafes: one on the ground floor and one on the second floor. Until recently, both cafes offered the exact same menu, but now they are targeting different groups of people and have differing menus. The Upper Cafe still does the full menu, focusing on sit-down meals, whereas the Lower Cafe now focuses more on “grab and go”-type items.

About three weeks after the change, it’s 5:20 pm and I am in the Lower Cafe, behind the counter. The Upper Cafe has been closed for nearly an hour and we are only ten minutes away from closing ourselves.

[Woman] walks in.

Woman: *Very abruptly* “I want a jacket potato.”

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, but we don’t do jacket potatoes in this cafe anymore. The cafe upstairs still does them, but they are now closed for the day.”

Woman: “I’ve bought one from here before!”

I begin to explain, but she interrupts me.

Woman: “So, what do you do now, then, huh?”

Due to it being nearly closing time, we don’t have that much left.

Me: “Well, we have a few toasties left, and we still can serve coffee or cake—”

Woman: *Interrupting* “Cakes are for fat people. You are only serving things for fat people.”

Me: “We do have our fruit juices in the fridge—”

Woman: “Toasties are for fat people.” *Angrier* “They. Are. For. Fat. People.”

She keeps repeating this, trying to get me to “admit” that she is right and that all of our food is only for “fat people”. When she realises this isn’t going to work and that I’m not falling for her games, she storms off.

Woman: “You’ve just lost yourself a customer.”

Me: “You’ll have to call corporate in that case.” *Dismissing* “Thank you.”

I tell my colleagues about her a couple of minutes later.

Colleague: “Does she not know how many calories are in our jacket potatoes, especially when you add butter or cheese? I guess they must be for ‘fat people’, too!”

I’m usually a jeans-and-hoodie girl, rarely seen in anything else unless I’m going to some sort of event — a birthday party, a funeral, that sort of thing. Even my job is such that I don’t have to dress up for it. All of my family and friends know this and are usually surprised if they see me in anything else.

So, apparently, are my neighbours.

Earlier this year, I had a funeral to attend, so I dressed myself up in a black dress and nice shoes with a handbag and a nice jacket. As I was leaving the house, my very sweet elderly next-door neighbour emerged from her home.

Neighbour: “Morning, [My Name]. Oh, you look smart! Off somewhere nice?”

Me: “Not really. I’m off to a funeral.”

Neighbour: *Looking a bit embarrassed* “Oh, I’m so sorry! Well, hope it all goes okay.”

I thank her and head off, no feelings hurt.

Fast forward to yesterday. I have a job interview so, naturally, I’ve tidied myself up and have on a black skirt-suit, heels, etc. As I’m leaving, my neighbour is in her front garden doing some tidying. She looks up as she hears me leave the house.

Neighbour: “Morning, [My Name]! Oh! I’m so sorry for your loss!”

Cue a big facepalm from me! We had a good laugh when I explained where I was actually going, but really, perhaps this is a sign I should tidy myself up a bit?!

After his retirement, my dad spent some time volunteering in a charity shop. He had to deal with all kinds of customer stupidity, but one of the strangest interactions he had was this one.

A woman who ran a local designer clothes shop donated several pairs of gloves to the charity shop. They were new and there was nothing wrong with them, and they were placed on the counter next to the till with a price tag of £5 — significantly less than their retail price.

One day, my dad was serving a woman who was purchasing a few small items. As he rang her up, she started looking through the box of gloves.

Customer: “How much do these cost?”

Dad: “They’re £5 for a pair.”

Customer: *Angrily* “Why are they so expensive?!”

Dad: “They’re new.”

Customer: “I want to talk to a manager! This is a charity shop; you’re not supposed to sell new things!”