(My brother is three years younger than me and started at my secondary school this year, aged eleven. He almost immediately starts getting bullied by a kid in his class, who happens to be the brother of a girl in my year. The bully is easily the smallest child in my brother’s class and is constantly angry, fighting constantly, and seems to be bullying several kids, not just my brother. I witnessed him come up behind his sister and demand money from her; then, he kicked her in the knees so she fell to the ground before kicking her again. He also made lots of nasty comments that made his sister cry. The school does nothing because the bully always starts fights when teachers aren’t looking and then claims self-defense, getting away with it because he’s smaller than them. I offer to help my brother constantly by letting him hang out with my friends or by going to stand near his class in breaks — I’m a school prefect/monitor so could intervene — but my brother has autism and is already struggling socially so he doesn’t want to be with my friends or for me to be near his. Until one day…)

Brother: *crying and running over* “Help! Help! Please help!”

Me: “Is it [Bully]?”

Brother: “Yeah, he got me and now another boy, too.”

Me: “Okay, stay here.” *to my friends* “Look after him, please!”

(I run down to the area where the younger kids have break and see [Bully] immediately. He’s sat on another kid’s neck with his knees on either side of his throat and is just landing punches on his face. As I run closer, I can see the boy underneath is going purple and is pulling at [Bully]’s knees, obviously unable to breathe.)

Me: *still running over* “Hey! Get off him!”

([Bully] doesn’t respond and as I get close, the boy underneath goes limp, still being punched. I grab the scruff of [Bully]’s collar, intending to pull him off the other child and to his feet. I’m only 5’3” and female but I still tower over this tiny child and my panicked grab of his collar results in more than the intended force. Instead of pulling him to his feet, I throw him back where he crashes into a pillar and crumples. I freeze, horrified that now I may have hurt someone; I’m a nerdy girl who’s never been in trouble before. A teacher who knows me and the other prefects well comes running over.)

Teacher: *running over* “[My Name], just go! Run! I’ve got it.”

(I ran for it, leaving the teacher to deal with both boys. The boy who was attacked had to go to the hospital for treatment for a broken nose, broken tooth, and difficulty breathing and swallowing. The teacher knew about the bully and the school’s rule of needing a member of staff to witness and bent the truth a bit. She told them that she’d witnessed the attack on both my brother and the other boy but denied that I’d been there, saying that no one had hurt [Bully] and he’d been making it up to claim self-defense. He ended up getting a long period of isolated education, working one on one in a classroom and taking breaks by himself. It’s not totally moral for the teacher to have lied, but given [Bully]’s year of attacking people every day, it felt justified!)

(I work in a shop that’s famous for its fun bath products and good customer service. Being a cosmetics company, most of the employees are female or gay men, though it’s not uncommon for straight cis men to join staff, too; anyone and everyone can use or sell soap, right? I have a straight male coworker who prides himself on his hard work and on giving the best customer service he possibly can. He’s also very typically “straight” in both appearance and demeanor. On this occasion he is giving two women in their early 30s a shop tour, spending about an hour with them and helping them choose their purchases before bringing them to the tills. I am doing some work behind the counter, so when they come over, I hear this.)

Customer #1: “I’d love to work here. It looks so fun!”

Coworker: “Yeah, it really is. Everybody here is like one big family.”

Customer #1: “You’re probably gay, though, right?”

Coworker: *obviously a bit taken aback but staying professional* “I’m actually not, no. I live with my girlfriend at the moment and we’ve been together for two years.”

Customer #2: “Are you sure?”

Coworker: “Quite sure, yeah.”

Customer #1: “Are you really straight? You can’t be.”

Customer #2: “Yeah, why would you work here if you weren’t gay?”

(I can see that my coworker looks very put out and uncomfortable, and I’m not feeling best pleased myself as I’m bisexual and have had people inappropriately quiz me about my sexuality before, too, so I step in.)

Me: “Is there a reason men would have to be gay to work here?”

Customer #1: “Well, yeah! It’s weird for straight men to like this stuff!”

Me: “Why? Straight men take baths, don’t they? They take showers and use soap and wash their hair and their faces, don’t they? Straight men buy from here all the time and I can assure you they can work here, too.”

Customer #1: *ignores me and turns back to my coworker* “You’re at least bisexual, aren’t you?”

Coworker: “No.”

Customer #2: “What, like, you mean you’ve never had any c**k at all?”

Coworker: *handing them their purchases in bags* “Have a lovely day, ladies.”

(The two women then turn and leave, seemingly unaware that they just made him very uncomfortable. My coworker is stood there looking like he has a very bad taste in his mouth.)

Me: “You okay?”

Coworker: “Why are people so invasive? I don’t care if people think I’m gay, but I don’t want complete strangers interrogating me about my sexuality and acting like they know better. Who does that?”

(I work for a bank. Letters have been sent out to our clients about a new loyalty scheme where they can get prizes for using our products, like wine.)

Client: “I’ve received this letter about your new [loyalty scheme]. It says to go onto [website] to log in or register.”

Me: “Okay.”

Client: “So, what do I do? There are all these options.” *lists options, including one that says “Login/Register”*

Me: “You need to click on Login/Register to… log in… or register.”

Client: “Oh, what’s the difference?”

Me: “If you know your username and password you can log in, or if you haven’t created one you can register your details.”

Client: “It’s asking me for my username. What’s that?”

Me: “Have you registered?”

Client: “No. I need to do that first?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Client: “Oh, seems like jolly hard work.” *hangs up*

(I work at a bank. The caller is an eighty-year-old lady calling about her statement.)

Caller: “I have received page two, but not page one, and I need you to send me another one. If you have sent it out to anyone else I’m going to get the ombudsman on you!”

Me: “Okay. Before I order you a new one, can I ask you to do something silly for me, please?”

Caller: “Okay?”

Me: “Can you turn it over for me?”

Caller: “Ooh, you’re going to have a laugh about this after, aren’t you?”

Me: “Not at all; it happens to all of us.”

(I’ve just opened the shop after getting there early to straighten up. I am filling in the morning paperwork at the tills at the back of the shop. A man comes in and ignores my greeting, so I take a sip of the tea I have behind the counter, and as he turns to approach the tills I put it down and say:)

Me: “Everything in the store is three for the price of two today, if you’re interested!”

Customer: “What? I can’t hear you with your mouth behind your coffee like that; why didn’t you put it down first?”

Me: “I’m sorry.” *smiles apologetically* “Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

Customer: “Why are you talking so fast? You need to slow down. Don’t talk so fast.”

Me: *speaking slightly slower* “Sorry, sir. Do you have one of our loyalty cards?”

Customer: “Yes.” *throws the loyalty card across the desk at me*

Me: “Thank you. That will be £14.40. Please put your card in the machine for me.”

Customer: *while typing his PIN in* “Your voice is really grating.” *gets his PIN wrong*

Me: *slowly and as quiet and deeply as I can* “Please try that again, sir.”

Customer: *fails to enter his PIN correctly again while I stay quiet* “That’s two attempts now? I’ve got your little monologue going round in my head; your voice is so grating I can’t concentrate. I’ve got it now.” *enters PIN correctly and gets the “please remove card” message* “You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?”

Me: “I am, sir, yes.” *waits for a good minute while he fails to take his card* “Would you like to remove your card? Thank you. Keep your receipt; there’s a voucher on the bottom for—”

Customer: *cutting across me* “[My Name], you can’t keep up at that speed, you know, you’re going to crash sooner or later.”

Me: *trying to stay cheery and not grating* “Well, I’ve lasted for 28 years at this speed, I think I’ll be okay.” *smiles*

Customer: “It’s not about age. You’ll crash soon.” *stomps off*