(I am sixteen years old, working on the delicatessen counter. A lady comes over.)

Customer: “Hello there. Can you show me your beef joints?”

Me: “Sure. Right this way, ma’am.”

(I leave my station to head ten feet away to the raw beef. In the meantime, an 80-year-old woman approaches the deli.)

Me: “So, ma’am, these are all our beef joints.”

(The deli bell rings.)

Customer: “I want a bigger one.”

Me: “I apologise, but this is, unfortunately, all we have.”

(The deli bell rings again.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but I must tend to my station. Please, will you excuse me?”

Customer: “Don’t you walk away. I want a large beef joint!”

(The deli bell rings again, while the woman ringing stares at me.)

Me: “I’m extremely sorry, but I cannot help anymore; this is all our stock and I can’t summon more at will!”

Customer: “I will be speaking to someone cleverer than you.”

(I return to my usual deli workstation, as she wanders away, moaning about my intelligence! I return to the old lady who has been ringing.)

Me: “Hello there! Sorry for your wait; how can I help you?”

Old Lady: “You know, I have a good mind to walk away from you!”

Me: “I’m very sorry; however, I—“

Old Lady: “It was extremely rude of you to leave me unattended. You’ve cost your company money you know!”

Me: “Oh, well, I’m extremely sorry I couldn’t sell you anything today. Have a lovely weekend.”

Old Lady: “But I still want my sandwich meat!”

Me: “Oh, I’m very glad, ma’am. What can I get you?”

Old Lady: “A single slice of your [cheapest ham], thank you!”

I have worked over two years for a well-known UK supermarket delivering groceries to customers at home. Over these last two years, I’ve gone from positive and energetic about my job to somewhat sad and jaded. This does not mean I don’t do my best work; it just means that I have lost a lot of enthusiasm for the work itself and the good bits are outweighed by the bad bits now.

But today was a good day. First off, I want to say that if you are getting a grocery delivery, generally, keeping your pets locked away is helpful, since not everyone likes cats and dogs and may even have allergies. But I love cats and dogs, and I don’t have allergies!

My third delivery of the morning came with instructions, “We have dogs and cats; they are friendly.” I greeted the customer, who invited me inside, and the dogs came rushing up past their owner to greet the strange new human in their home. There were tails wagging and lots of excited pants. I greeted the dogs enthusiastically. The customer even invited me to stay for a few minutes to play with the dogs, and the cats, who, after a few minutes, decided to come and see what the fuss was about. In short, I was in fluffy heaven for five awesome minutes.

My run of good lucked followed with a later customer giving me a free latte. Another customer with pets that were happy to see me even gave me a generous tip for my work. Fun fact: the best tippers are always American. So, while I think I’m on the way out of this particular job, today reminded me that there are some really good aspects of my job!

(I’m having really bad back pain so I ask my Mum to drop a hot water bottle to work for me in the hope that it will help. I go down to the canteen there to fill it up and grab some chocolate while I’m there. Another woman is making tea at the same time and she sees my hot water bottle and chocolate.)

Worker: *sympathetically* “That time of the month, huh?”

(I laugh and gesture to my stomach.)

Worker: “Wow! You get really bloated on your period. Does that not hurt?!”

Me: “Uh… I’m seven months pregnant!”

Worker: “I know they say you shouldn’t ask a woman if she’s pregnant, but I really should have copped that one, shouldn’t I? I’m so embarrassed!”

(For the next couple of weeks I seemed to pass the same woman a lot and she always jokingly pretended she didn’t notice I was pregnant. It really amused me.)

(Children have been throwing stones at my friend’s house for years. My friend, who is disabled and has intellectual difficulties, is terrified. He calls the police. A cop is taking a witness statement from me, as I witnessed the most recent attack. Law enforcement is an extremely dangerous job here; police officers look under their car for a bomb every morning. I am EXTREMELY respectful and do what I can to lighten their day.)

Cop: “The second attack was at 1430. What happened then?”

Me: “I went outside, saw five kids, and told them to stop throwing stones because [Friend] was very scared.”

Cop: “Did you recognise any of them?”

Me: *addressing him by his rank* “No, constable. I have Asperger Syndrome and I’m face-blind. I have extreme difficulty recognising people.”

Cop: “Can you say what age they are?”

Me: “Same problem, sir. Between seven and fourteen? Hey, there’s [Friend]’s cat, Marty. He could give you better evidence.”

Cop: *grinning* “Perhaps, but I’m not sure a cat makes a competent witness.”

Me: “Did you know police in Wales tried to prosecute a guy for murder on the grounds that he confessed to his cat?”

Cop: “What?”

Me: “They had bugged his flat, and found he talked to his cat a lot. Apparently, he told the cat he killed the guy. Really, I studied law.”

Cop: *laughter* “So, anyway…”

(He talked to the other kids, who quickly turned in the culprit. He will be dealt with!)

Customer: “I’ll have two jaegerbombs, please.”

(I make them up.)

Me: “[Amount], please.”

(She pays, and while I get her change out of her register, I see her lift the glasses up and pour them down the sink in front of her.)

Me: “Did you not want them?”

Customer: “No, I did.”

(I stare between her and the sink, and it slowly dawns on her.)

Customer: “I don’t know why I did that.”

Me: “I don’t know, either.”

(I gave her change and she ordered again. This time she managed to walk away with them. Let’s hope they made it down a different hole!)