I am the author of this story.

Some people are professional patients, used for training, and they are very good. Many years ago, I did a first aid course, and the trainer told us this anecdote.

He was at a First Aid competition, and they had these professional patients there to simulate different scenarios. During one session, someone had to simulate an unconscious patient with a wound.

The first aider was a bit nervous but got him into the recovery position, dressed the wound, and used a safety pin on the dressing. The adjudicator called “time” at the end, and the patient (who up until that point had been just lying there like all good unconscious patients) got up and started screaming in agony.

It transpired that the first aider was a little bit too nervous and stuck the dressing to the flesh with the safety pin. Anyone unconscious wouldn’t react, so he didn’t. But when he was no longer supposed to be unconscious…

Needles to say, the first aider lost that point.

Related:
Can’t Safely Pin That Job

I work in a charity used bookshop. We do not offer refunds at all; every book is sold as-is. Some of our books are antique or rare; these can be somewhat expensive.

On this particular day, it’s just the manager and me working. The manager opened the shop and then immediately left for a meeting, so I’ve been on my own the entire day, and it’s been pretty busy

A customer arrives mid-afternoon and strides angrily straight up to the register, slamming a book down; it’s obviously an old/antique book.

Customer: “I bought this this morning and I want a refund.”

Me: “What is the problem with it?”

Customer: “It’s way overpriced! I paid twenty-five quid, and I got it home and looked it up, and I can buy the same thing on eBay for a tenner.”

Me: “Oh, right. I’m sorry, but all sales are final. Book prices vary depending on the condition of the book—”

Customer: *Louder* “NO! STOP! Listen! You don’t understand. It was too expensive. You made a mistake. Where’s your manager? He said I could bring it back.”

Me: “My manager isn’t here, I’m afraid. I’m sorry if you think it was expensive, but as I said, all sales are final.

The customer is standing closer and shouting now, slamming his hand on the desk.

Customer: “NO! You’re ripping me off! When I bought it, your manager said he’d give me a refund if I could find it cheaper, and I did! So I want a refund! NOW!”

Me: “Our policy is all sales final, no refunds. And you didn’t speak to my manager when you bought it.”

Customer: “What are you— I did speak to him! This morning! He promised me a refund! ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?”

Me: “My manager is an elderly lady… and she wasn’t here this morning. Yes, I am.” 

I swear, he nearly frothed at the mouth. Then, he shouted something garbled — I have no idea what — grabbed his book, and left, slamming the shop door as he went. As he grabbed the book and stormed out, a piece of paper fell to the floor. It was a receipt for £25… from a used bookshop in another town fifteen miles away.

CONTENT WARNING: Eating Disorders, Body Shaming

I’m a woman who has a long history of anorexia. Even thirty-plus years on from the worst of it, I will still fall back into not eating for weeks if under a lot of stress.

My coworker has gotten into some mindset that, because I’m fat, I require his tips on dieting, and he has taken to criticising everything I eat. Even salads (which I love) have him lecturing me on how I must be hiding a load of junk food in my bag and am secretly bingeing on it. The constant critiques push me into not eating at all during the day.

Eventually, I lose it.

Me: “Please stop talking about my food and my weight. I don’t appreciate it, and you’re doing a lot of harm.”

Coworker: “I’m just saying, you’ll never find a husband or have kids at your weight.”

Me: “I’ve been married for over eighteen years, and I don’t want kids, but again, this is none of your business. Please, please stop.”

Coworker: “If me telling you how to stop being a lard-a** is damaging your mental health, then you’re just stupid.”

Me: “Seriously, you need to stop. Further criticisms of my body will mean an official complaint.”

He refused to stop and started harassing me about joining a gym. I went to our boss and Human Resources, but they did nothing.

Three weeks later, I passed out at work after not eating anything for several days. [Coworker] said it was “a step in the right direction” and that anorexia was actually a good thing for fat people.

After more therapy for my eating disorder, I took to telling him loudly in the office to leave me the f*** alone. So, now he has a reputation for being a creepy guy who won’t stop harassing a woman. As it turns out, that’s more damaging to his career than being fat is to mine. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.

Related:
Not Your Body, Not Your Business

I am diabetic and I work in a supermarket. If I have a hypo, I’m allowed to drop whatever I’m doing and go take care of it, so long as I let a supervisor or manager know and do the recovery bit somewhere I can be seen in case I take a turn for the worse. I usually retreat to the store’s cafe since my usual treatment is a sports drink followed by one of their sandwiches, and the cafe team knows me and can keep an eye on me.

So, it happens. I let a supervisor know, leave my trolley of put-backs behind, buy a sports drink, and sit in the cafe. One of the team members immediately realises why I’m there and makes sure I’m comfy and then goes to the kitchen to prep my sandwich since she knows my favourite. As she leaves, a customer comes over.

Customer: “Sorry, I overheard your coworker, and my friend had the diabetes, so I was wondering if I could help?”

Me: “Oh, no, don’t worry. I’ll be better quite quickly. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Customer: *Face darkening* “Are you sure? You know, I can’t believe they’re doing this to you.”

Me: “…who’s doing what to me?”

Customer: “I can’t believe they’re making you work like this! You’re clearly quite ill here, and yet you’re expected to continue your job as if everything’s fine!”

Me: “But I’m not working. I’ve stopped to fix this, which my bosses are fine with. If anything, the supervisor I was with will currently be finishing my current job for me. And this is a minor hypo, all things considered. I caught it really quickly, I don’t feel too bad, and I’ll recover quickly.”

Customer: “No, no, no, this just won’t do. I will be going to a manager after my meal and telling them they need to treat…” *grabs and rotates me so she can read my name badge* “…[My Name] with a bit more humanity!”

She marched off to her table where I could hear her grumble to her husband. My blood sugars levelled and I had my sandwich, and I was back on the shop floor (with a new job, as the supervisor had indeed finished my previous one) within ten minutes. I did warn another supervisor of the potential complaint and how it felt more like she either just wanted to complain or convince herself she was playing hero, but I doubt anything will happen.

About a year ago, I managed to get out of a particularly stressful renting situation.

My housemate, while friendly, was piss-poor with managing his share of rent payments. To say we were constantly in arrears because of him is an understatement.

One month after I left, my father received a phone call from my former housemate’s parents. They wanted to know why I wasn’t paying his rent anymore despite the fact that I had moved out.

Yes, they wanted me to continue paying his rent.

My dad just hung up on them.

To this day, I still avoid my former housemate if possible, and I’m happily housemate- and (mostly) stress-free!