I’m working in a soft-play area as a supervisor. Our rule for the two biggest slides is that children have to wear trousers or leggings below the knee, and sleeves, due to the risk of friction burns if the kids aren’t careful on the slides. Vests and football shorts are a no-no. We actually encourage full coverage of arms and legs but recognise that’s not gonna happen in the summer, though we still ask parents to approve their kids going down if they’re in, say, shorts and a T-shirt. We give each kid a stamp if their parent or guardian gives the okay.

There’s quite a lot of grumbling and groaning from customers who aren’t prepared for the rules, but generally, we get to where we need to be. We even sell cheap leggings and trousers for kids who are wearing clothes we deem too dangerous.

I approach a customer whose kids have walked up to me asking if they’re allowed to go down.

Me: “I just need to check with your mum.”

The girl is fine, but the boy is wearing a vest and so needs to put something over his arms.

Customer: *Smiling* “Is everything okay? Can they go down?”

Me: *Also smiling* “Almost! We just need to find something for his arms—”

Customer: *Suddenly furious* “WHAT?! YOU KNOW WHAT?! I HAVE ABSOLUTELY HAD IT WITH THIS PLACE! GET ME A F****** MANAGER, NOW! ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS!”

This is clearly beyond my pay grade, so I do just that, and one of the managers comes from the office and takes over. I go about my business. At the end of the day, I approach said manager and ask what happened.

Manager: “Oh, she had something with long sleeves for the boy in her bag. She said it was just ridiculous we were ‘forcing’ her to ‘make him boil’ in the summer. I did explain everything about the health and safety issues, and she agreed but still said it was ridiculous.”

Me: “Oh, well, at least she did what we asked. She was really yelling and screaming at me.”

Manager: “That’s no good. Was she abusive?”

Me: “No. I guess just hot and bothered.”

Manager: “Aren’t we all? Imagine if we stopped applying the rules just because it was warm?”

I am third in the queue at a local supermarket. At the counter, there is a lovely, polite, elderly lady with the telltale jerking movements of Parkinson’s. Her voice is a little slurred, soft, and monotonous.

Lady: “I’m sorry I’m so slow. Can I just get these?”

She puts through five items, mostly lunch stuff.

Cashier: “No worries, not a problem at all! Would you like a bag?”

The next customer cuts in.

Man: “Well, I’m f****** worried! You shouldn’t be allowed out in public like that.”

He gets up in the old lady’s face.

Cashier: “Stop that immediately!”

Man: “Listen, b****, I shouldn’t have to wait in line because some old f***** can’t handle her highs!”

Meanwhile, the old lady is calmly putting her stuff in her bag… except for a can of soda which she holds in her hand.

Cashier: “Excuse me. That is my mother, and she has Parkinson’s Disease; it is a neurological degenerative condition that causes those movements.”

The manager can be seen approaching but is still a few moments away.

Man: “Like f*** she is! She’s just high!”

The lady opens the now very well-shaken can of soda and proceeds to drop it at the man’s feet, causing it to spurt upward in a jet of foam and thoroughly soak him.

Lady: “Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I have Parkinson’s disease. There was a spasm in my hand and I let go of it. I’m soooooo sorry!”

The other customer shouts for a bit and then gets thrown out by the manager.

The elderly lady then waits at the end of the checkout to speak to her daughter after she finishes serving me, and that’s when I notice her mischievous grin.

Me: “You totally meant to do that, didn’t you?” *Smirks*

Lady: “H*** yeah, I did!” *Smiles sweetly* “I may have Parkinson’s, but I can still deal with an a**hole or two!”

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I have quite severe Asperger’s and also social anxiety and paranoia. Because of this, I’m usually wearing headphones and listening to music to block out environmental noise.

I’m in a shop where I’m friends with one of the few staff members that don’t mind that I’m “weird,” and we have some running jokes such as where we pretend to chat each other up in an obviously jokey manner. We are both in relationships.

Friend: “See you later, babe.”

Me: “You know it.”

The customer behind me speaks to my friend.

Customer: “I can’t believe you have to put up with r****ds like him.”

Friend: “My friend, you mean?”

The customer is taken aback by the fact she’s defending me.

Customer: *Pointing to me* “Yeah, him. You’re obviously funny in the head and probably spend all day playing with knives and will one day snap and end up killing people.”

Me: “Probably, and if I do, who do you think I’m coming after first?”

Customer: “See, he just threatened to kill me! I want him thrown out of the store.”

Friend: “Sorry, I didn’t hear anything; these tills are very loud.”

Customer: “Right, I’m having him arrested. I’m calling the police, and you’ll be fired, too.”

Me: “There are several security cameras on this till and half a dozen witnesses who have seen you commit several acts of disability discrimination and behave aggressively to both other customers and staff. What will you tell them exactly?”

Customer: “Well, uh, you’re just an idiot that probably talks to the voices in his head.”

Me: “That’s right, and right now nine out of the ten voices in my head are telling me to advise you to sleep with one eye open.”

The customer storms out.

Friend: “And the tenth voice?”

Me: “It says I want pizza.”

I overhear this at a convenience store.

Boy: “Hey, sis, can I ask you a riddle?”

The teenager beside him shrugs.

Boy: “What always goes down but never goes up?”

Sister: “Your grades.”

Boy: *Dejected* “I hate that you are correct.”

For those curious, the proper answer was “rain.”

I’m working from home when I hear a knock on the door.

Woman: “Your music is too loud.”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “Your music! I can hear it down the street!”

I strain my ears and I can just about hear the small Bluetooth speaker I have playing upstairs. It’s playing light rock, so it’s not as if it had swearing in it.

Me: “Look, it’s not loud and it’s not offensive. I’m allowed to play music.”

Woman: “No, you’re not! I don’t want to hear it anymore!”

Me: “Yeah, I have work to do.”

I shut the door and go back upstairs. I can see her dramatically waving her phone about and I’m pretty sure she is filming me. I ignore her, figuring she must be one sad, miserable individual to be like this.

Eventually, I get another knock at the door. It’s the police.

Policeman: “We’ve had a noise complaint. Could we have a chat?”

I invite them in and show them the tiny speaker I have been using. I show them that it couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as they’ve been told. I offer to give them copies of the CCTV, but they decline.

Policeman: “Thank you for your cooperation. I don’t see any reason to pursue this any further.”

Me: “What about the old woman?”

He thinks for a while and then sighs.

Policeman: “I will go around to speak with her. She has been raising complaints all summer. If she comes round again, tell her to speak to me, Officer [Policeman].”

He leaves and I think the matter is over, but a week later, I get another knock on the door. It’s her again.

Me: “What?”

Woman: “I told you your music is too loud. I called the police and they told me that they would arrest you if you did it again!”

Me: “Really? You mean Officer [Policeman]? I spoke to him, too, and he told me something very different!”

She goes white as a sheet and her mouth drops.

Woman: “Well, yes… Well, I… It’s still too loud!”

She scuttled away in a hurry. Thankfully, I didn’t see her again and got to work in peace.