CONTENT WARNING: Physical Assault

(As floor manager, I have a phone on me that employees can call if they have issues. I get a call from an employee who says she has a customer who wants to speak to a manager about a return. I can hear the angry customer yelling in the background, so I radio security as a precaution. When I get there, the customer is red-faced and yelling at the employee. He looks at me and rolls his eyes.)

Customer: “I said I wanted to speak to a manager! Manager! Not for you to call a friend over! This is bulls***!”

Employee: “She is the manager.”

Customer: “Bulls***.”

(I tap my metal nametag, which says my name and, “Manager,” and reassure him that I am the manager.)

Customer: “Bulls***! You think you can get away with a fake nametag and get out of trouble? I want the real manager now!”

Me: “I am the manager, and if you don’t lower your voice, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

(Suddenly, the customer lunged at me and grabbed my arm, pushing me back against the counter, and started trying to rip my nametag off of my jacket. He succeeded in basically grabbing and groping my breast while I tried to get away, before the pin back popped open, gouging me. Suddenly, one of my plain-clothes security guards appeared, grabbed the guy from the back, and pulled him to the ground. The guy finally stopped fighting and the police took him in. I had a cut, and bruises on my upper arm and chest. We had a mountain of paperwork between the assault and the fact that a security guard got physically involved. I found out that in his defence, they guy kept repeating that he thought I was a fake manager, and therefore that the assault should be okay!)

(I am working the reception desk at my vet clinic. Our policy is to not schedule appointments for clients who have large outstanding bills. I am relatively inexperienced at appointment scheduling, and I really should have asked the client’s name before telling her what we had available. This happens on a Wednesday. The phone rings.)

Me: “[Clinic]. This is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Client: “Hi. My cat may have injured his toe; do you have any openings on Saturday?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we are closed this Saturday, but we do have an opening on Monday morning at eight o’clock.”

Client: “I’ll take it.”

Me: “Great. Can I have your name, please?”

Client: “It’s [Client].”

(I pull up her account and see that she has an outstanding balance of well over $1000. Someone even flagged her account to make sure we don’t provide any more services to her until she pays us.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we unfortunately cannot schedule an appointment for you until you pay off a significant portion of your balance.”

Client: “I’m going to make a payment on Friday.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t schedule you until that payment is made.”

Client: “But I don’t get paid until Friday, and by then, that Monday opening will be taken!”

Me: “While that particular appointment may be taken by Friday, we have other openings next week. However, I cannot schedule you until you have paid off a significant portion of your balance.”

(This goes on for another two or three rounds of her saying she’ll make a payment on Friday and me reiterating that I can’t schedule her until she pays. Finally, I convince her that I’m really not going to schedule her appointment until she pays us.)

Client: “Well, I guess my cat will just have to suffer, then!”

Me: “Goodbye, ma’am.”

(I am 19 and starting a new serving job at a casual restaurant in my small town. The woman training me micromanages how I do every single task, which is usually good for how I learn, but then we talk about carrying a tray.)

Trainer: *showing me how to carry a large tray* “Keep your palm flat, carry it in the center, and make sure you load it evenly — heavy stuff in the middle. We’ll talk more about loading it in a bit. Go ahead and grab an empty tray and try it out.”

(I grab a tray and balance it with my right hand while walking, without issues.)

Trainer: “Okay, good. Wait. Are you right-handed or left-handed?”

Me: “I’m right-handed.”

Trainer: “You should be carrying with your left, then, so you can use your right, the dominant hand, to open up the folding stand or unload your tray.”

Me: “Really? Huh. Well, it feels better using my right. Shouldn’t I use my strongest arm?”

Trainer: “Yes, but that should be— Wait, now I’m not sure. Hold on.”

(She holds the tray, first using her right hand, then her left.)

Trainer: “No, you really should keep your dominant hand free. See? Watch me.”

(She demonstrates again, and then another coworker walks out of the kitchen with a tray of food.)

Trainer: “See? [Coworker #1] is using her left hand to carry a tray. Oh! And here comes [Coworker #2]. Hey! Show [My Name] how to carry a tray.”

Coworker #2: “Uh, okay?” *picks up tray and balances with left hand*

Trainer: “SEE! She carries with her left hand!”

Coworker #2: *to me* “Are you left-handed?”

Me: “Nope.”

(It’s a slow mid-afternoon, so now the other server has come back and they’re telling me how I should be balancing a tray with my left hand and unloading with my right because they all do it like that. [Coworker #1] finally tells me to try with both and see what feels best. Unsurprisingly, my left hand is shaky when I carry the empty tray.)

Trainer: “Oh. Definitely don’t use your left hand.”

Me: “Yeah, no kidding!”

(As I met the rest of my coworkers the rest of the week, they all apparently thought it was crazy that I used my right arm to carry, and I had to repeat that scene several times. I’ve since looked up what’s normal and watched different people, but I still don’t think it was that weird! I thought it was weird they were so adamant that I was wrong about what felt best for ME.)

(My sister and I are with my younger brother at a video game store, so he can check the prices of a few games. While he’s looking at one game, a boy about his age strikes up a conversation. I think nothing of it, and continue looking around. At one point, I’m standing with my brother when an ad for a cute and fluffy — yet challenging — game comes on, which I happen to be obsessed with.)

Brother: “Oh, look, [My Name]! [Video Game]! They’re coming out with a new one!”

Me: “Awesome! Does that show release dates or anything?”

Boy: “You like that game?”

Me: “Yup.”

Boy: “Really? One a scale of one to ten, the graphics are like, really bad. Like, compared to the games I play, the graphics are just, like, really bad.”

Me: “Well, the whole concept is that it’s yarn. For yarn and craft supplies, the graphics are actually pretty awesome!”

Boy: “Yeah, but the graphics are really bad. Like, they look five-bit.”

Me: “I think you mean eight-bit. I also think I’m entitled to my own opinion, thank you very much.”

Boy: “Yeah, but the graphics just suck.”

(At this point, my sister comes over.)

Sister: “Everyone ready to go?”

Boy: “You have two sisters?! Dude, that must suck.”

Brother: “It’s fine, actually. Plus, they’re really good for playing multiplayer games with.”

Boy: “Those girls? Nah, they probably just fluff their hair all day. Ha!”

Me: “Yeah, okay, you got what you need? Let’s check out now. I don’t need more time with Sir Pint-Sized Misogynist.”

(I later saw the boy tagging behind all three employees that were working that day, spewing off random “tips” everyone knows and incorrect game trivia. Let’s hope his parents found him soon after!)

(At Thanksgiving dinner, my Grandma, age 102, and Granny, 93, are talking about their medical alert buttons.)

Grandma: “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” *giggles*

(They pull out their necklaces and compare.)

Granny: “Yours is bigger than mine.”

(They both broke down giggling until they were red in the face.)