(My dog has a vet appointment for vaccinations and some annual blood work. As a reward — or an apology — we go through a fast food drive-thru for some ice cream. She is an 80-pound mutt and, given her size, she is well-trained in social interactions.)

Drive-Thru: *automated recording* “Welcome to [Fast Food Place]. Did you know we serve breakfast all day? What can I get for you?”

Me: “Hi! Could I have a double bacon cheeseburger, plain, and a plain ice cream for my dog?”

Drive-Thru: *not automated* “Hold on! I’m not ready.”

Me: “Oh, sorry.”

Drive-Thru: “Okay, what did you want?”

Me: *repeats order*

Drive-Thru: “Okay, first window. Thank you.”

(I drive to the first window.)

Window: “Hi, you got the— Puppy! Oh, she’s so cute! Can I pet her?”

Me: “Uh, she’s actually not allowed to come to the driver’s side. Driving hazard.”

Window: “I just want to scratch her head!” *reaching in my car, in front of my face*

Me: “Sorry. She’s not going to come over.”

Window: *huffs* “Well, that’s not very nice. Your total is [total].”

Me: “Okay. Here’s my card.”

Window: “She’s so cute, though. Can’t you make an exception?”

Me: “No. I don’t want her coming over here because it’s dangerous if I’m driving.”

Window: “But you’re not driving.”

Me: “No? Is this not the drive-thru?“

Window: “Fine!”

(The woman reached out to hand back my card and “accidentally” dropped it between my car and the building; I had to move forward and walk back to get it. When I looked at my receipt, there was a “survey” I could take at the bottom. You can guess how that review went!)

(I am part of the Gifted/AP program at my school. This conversation happens in fourth grade, with my Gifted teacher for that year.)

Teacher: “Well, kids, this weekend I learned a very important home safety lesson. I was deep-cleaning my bathroom, and after I used [Ammonia-Based Cleaning Product] on the floor, I decided to bleach the tub–”

Me: *gasps* “Are you okay, Mrs. [Teacher]?!”

(She stares at me.)

Teacher: “Um, yes, [My Name], I’m just fine… I started feeling lightheaded, so I stopped cleaning. We opened all the windows and ran the fans…”

(She then explained to the class that she read the cleaning product label, and when ammonia and bleach are used together, it can create toxic fumes. I was the only kid who knew. The teacher asked me later how I learned that, and I told her my mother taught me. I’m pretty sure that teacher thought we were a family of mad scientists.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Rental Car Agency] Roadside. This is [My Name] speaking. How may I assist?”

Customer: “I have four flat tires and need a tow.”

Me: “Oh, my. Everyone okay?”

Customer: “Yes.”

(We verify the customer is who he says he is, and go over his coverage. I then contact the location where the car was rented from. After that…)

Customer: *very angry* “What do you mean, I’ll have to pay for the service and tires?”

Me: “I’ve contacted the manager at the location, and they stated you drove out of the location out of the entrance and ran over the spikes.”

Customer: “That’s not my fault!”

I work at a busy gas station off the highway. It is a Friday afternoon, and I am paired with one of the worst coworkers ever: a mama’s boy who whines about everything.  

This afternoon, the whole station is filled with people wanting to get gas, beer, pop, and whatever else they need to start their weekend. I am on the main terminal, moving the line along. My coworker is talking on the phone with his mom, being slow and rude, asking me to help him out. I finally get tired of it and excuse myself to go in the back, where our boss is sitting in the office. I complain a bit about the coworker. After, I tell the boss that I should get back out there. He tells me to stay in the back for a few more minutes, which I gladly do.

After a few more minutes, I go back out to the glare of my coworker, and get the store cleared out. He is still talking to his mother.  

A week or so later, he gets a delivery through the regional office. It is a “secret shopper’s” report, from that afternoon! Long story short: he no longer has a job.  

He threatens to sue for “defamation of character,” which probably won’t go far.

Customer: “Where can I find ‘wazzzzher blades’?”

Me: “Can you please repeat the item?”

Customer: “YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE ‘WAZZZZHER BLADES’ ARE? You’re f****** useless. You shouldn’t work at a hardware store.”

(Later, he came up to ring out with razor blades.)

Customer: “Here. For future reference, this is a ‘wazzzzher blade.’”

Me: “You mean a razor blade?”

Customer: “In my family, we say, ‘wazzzzher.’ Don’t f****** correct me.”