(Our school is taking a trip to New York City, and the teacher in charge has hired a local tour guide to come onto our bus to tell some facts about landmarks. While talking about the Brooklyn Bridge, the guide brings up the architect, John Roebling.)

Guide: “Now, does anyone by chance happen to know where John Roebling is from?”

Literally Everyone On The Bus: “Saxonburg, Pennsylvania!”

Guide: “No, that’s not right. Hmm… I can’t remember, either. Oh, well. Moving on.”

Teacher: “No, they are right and you are wrong. He is from Saxonburg, and that is a fact. Our school is in Saxonburg; our park is named ‘Roebling Park’ after him, and they even have a model of the Brooklyn Bridge in it. If there is one thing we know, it’s where he’s from.”

(I’ve just had to have minor surgery on my tongue and the roof of my mouth. My mouth is packed with gauze. We have to stop at the pharmacy to pick up antibiotics before heading home. My mom does some other shopping, but I sit in the waiting area. I’m miserable and still reeling from the drugs, and I’m texting friends. An older man comes and sits across from me in silence for a half hour. Then, suddenly, he rages out at me.)

Customer: “You know, back in my day, we would talk and not just sit with your phone in front of your face. Ignoring people! We used to dress to go shopping, too, not just pajamas in public!”

(He continues on, raging that I’m wearing PJs and that I’m on my phone. I ignore him. When my mom comes back around, he rages at her, too.)

Customer: “You need to teach your child some manners! She hasn’t even said hello, just sat there on her d*** phone!”

(Finally, I just turn and open my mouth, full of bloody gauze, and muffle out a hello. He looks horrified and backs away from me.)

Pharmacist: “Just ignore him. He comes around and never buys anything, just harasses our customers.”

(I’m taking the order of a woman talking on her cell when this exchange occurs.)

Customer: “Grande mocha, whole milk.” *goes back to talking on her phone*

Me: “Whipped cream on that?”

Customer: “Mary.”

Me: “Would you like whipped cream, ma’am?”

Customer: “Mary!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, would you—”

Customer: “M… A… R… “

Me: “Mary! Would you like whipped cream?!“

Customer: “Oh… Yeah.”

(I work in a bookstore.)

Me: “Hi. Can I help you find anything?”

Customer: “Yeah, do you have any books by Ray Bradbury?”

Me: “Yes, I know we’ve got—”

Customer: “Wait, not Bradbury. Brown.”

Me: “Ray Brown? I’ll have to check.”

Customer: “Okay. And his name’s not Ray…”

(I work in a hotel. We don’t charge by the hour, but some “lovebirds” think we do. A pair comes in late at night.)

Young Woman: “Yes, we reserved a room through [Third-Party Reservation System].”

(My coworker looks through our computer system.)

Coworker: “Oh, [Young Woman]? Yeah, [Reservation System] cancelled it.”

Young Woman: “What?! No! You have to get it back!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this reservation was made through [Reservation System], and only they can—”

Young Woman: “We just called them a few minutes ago and asked if we could have a smoking room. We didn’t say to cancel!”

Coworker: “Why don’t you call them and tell them so?”

(She finally agrees, glaring at us like it’s our fault, and speaks with them.)

Young Woman: *on phone* “Hello! Yes! This is [Young Woman], and I didn’t tell you to f****** cancel my reservation!”

Customer Service Rep: “Yes, you did. You demanded a room, and you wanted a smoking one. When I said there was none, you said to forget it.”

Coworker: “Ma’am, can I?” *takes phone* “Yes, hello? This is the [Hotel]. Can you just send us a new reservation?”

Customer Service Rep: “No, because she wants to smoke.”

Young Woman: “God! I won’t smoke!”

(They go back and forth for a while, my coworker and the woman both yelling at the poor customer service rep. Finally, they hang up.)

Coworker: “They hung up!”

Young Woman: “I’m going to call them again. I can’t be looking for a new hotel at this time!”

(She does, and yells at the customer service rep, calling her all kinds of names and demanding a free room in compensation for her troubles. Finally, they send us a new reservation, and the girl gets her room and flounces away.)

Young Man: “You upset my girl! I won’t get laid tonight!”

(When they’re finally away, I turn to my coworker.)

Me: “They seemed really young. Did you check their IDs?”

Coworker: “No, in all the hullabaloo, I forgot…”

Me: “…”

Coworker: “But they paid [Reservation System], not us, so it should be okay…”

(A few hours later, they left. We all know what they did in those few hours! Ah, teens. Oh, yes, and they smoked up the room.)