(I’m in a local pizza parlor. I have just stopped at the grocery store next door for some things, so rather than get delivery, I am just going to bring the pizza home. While waiting for it to be finished, another customer comes storming in.)

Customer: “Where’s my d*** pizzas?!”

(The girl at the register looks startled, but I half-hear the guys in the back say something like, “Not again.”)

Worker: “I’m sorry, what name was it ordered under?”

Customer: “The same name I always order it under, and you always take too d*** long!”

Worker: “I really am sorry that it took too long, but we’re very busy, and we’ve been telling everyone orders will be at least forty-five minutes to an hour.”

Customer: “Yeah, I know, and that’s too long! I’ve been waiting at least that much! Where’s my order for [several pizzas]?!”

(One of the guys making the pizzas pipes up.)

Cook: “Probably at your front door; the driver left with it about three minutes ago.”

Customer: “Bull! I know you lazy b*****ds are just standing around and—”

(Right on cue, his cell phone goes off. He answers angrily and stomps around the eating area while yelling back and forth. While he is doing so, the owner of the business comes out of the back.)

Customer: “I demand to be compensated for this!”

Owner: “No. Every two weeks you pull this nonsense, and every two weeks we tell you the same thing; you’re not getting free pizza because you think you’re special and we’ll magically make five pizzas in half the time it takes to make one! Especially in the middle of the football playoffs!”

Customer: “That’s what these are for; we’re trying to watch it at my house!”

Me: “These guys make some of the best pizza I’ve ever had; are you actually surprised that they get busy, especially at a time like this?! If you know it’s going to take an hour to get to you, then order an hour sooner! Stop making those of us that want to order look bad, and use your d*** head!”

(The customer didn’t get his free pizza, had to wait for the driver to get back, and took it home himself. I got a fist-bump from one of the cooks, and the owner handed me a bottle of soda; apparently being a regular that helps out is a better way to get stuff than being a jacka**!)

(I have just been promoted to manager trainee and am working on a Sunday with one of the assistant managers. It has already been made clear to me that managers don’t really get to take a day off at this store when they are sick because there will be literally no other manager able to cover them — it’s a small store. I have a 104-degree fever at this point and am supposed to be the closing manager on a Sunday, working with an assistant manager until about an hour before close, at which point I’ll be on my own. Everyone can see I am sick; even customers ask why I’m there. I am walking — very slowly — across the sales floor, having just been in the back office trying to cool down, because I am sweating due to my fever.)

Associate #1: “Girl, I know you’re pale, but you are green today.”

(Later:)

Associate #2: “Can I get a manager to the front for a return?”

(I get up to the front, enter my ID and password for the return, and once the customer leaves, I just slowly lower myself to the floor. I am so dizzy at this point I can’t see straight.)

Associate #2: *on her headset* “Uh… [Assistant Manager]? [My Name] is on the floor up here.”

Assistant Manager: *on headset* “Did she fall? Is she okay? She didn’t pass out, right?”

Associate #2: “No… She just kind of sat down.”

(I indicate I’m okay.)

Associate #2: “Yeah, she’s okay.”

Me: “Can I go home, please, [Assistant Manager]? It’s only an extra hour you’d be working. I’ll owe you.”

Assistant Manager: “Are you sure you can’t make it? I wanted to go out with [Her Boyfriend] tonight.”

Me: “No… I literally can’t see straight right now. I’m sorry. I really tried to work through it, but I think I’ll call my mom to drive me home.”

(And that’s how I almost passed out at work because I was scared I’d be reprimanded for calling out sick. They still make both associates and managers work when sick because there literally isn’t enough staff to allow them to take a sick day. I no longer work there.)

(It’s been a month since Christmas. I have cash and a couple of checks that were given to us, and I’ve not remembered to go to the bank to deposit them. After meticulously filling out the deposit slip, I walk up to the counter. Also, I’m pregnant.)

Teller: *who is the coolest lady I know* “Um… Sweetie? You want to deposit this cash, and then withdraw cash?”

Me: *blank face* “What? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! I’m so sorry!”

Teller: “Don’t worry, sweetie; we’ll blame it on baby brain.” *laughs*

Me: *laughing also* “Oh, man, I have been so focused on getting this deposited, it didn’t even occur to me how ridiculous it was to come down here, deposit cash, and then withdraw cash!”

(When I am in sophomore year of high school, my mom gets remarried to an Englishman and decides to move my family to England. This is obviously a novel thing for my tiny Tennessee school, so I have a lot of — understandable — questions thrown at me. However, there are also some REALLY dumb ones, such as:)

Question: “Are you going to change schools?”

Question: “Are you driving to get there?”

Question: “How will you learn a new language by August?”

Question: “Will you still be American or do you have to adopt English?”

Question: “Do they have Baptist churches there?”

(I am not, nor have I ever been a Christian, so who knows why that last one was asked!)

(A customer shows me a case for a small, single-board computer that’s roughly the size of a smartphone. The case is very obviously made entirely of aluminum, and is labeled as such on the package.)

Customer: “Do you have this case in clear?”

Me: “No.”