Administrator: “It was just wonderful! The French class was singing Feliz Navidad in French!”

Customer: *stops me over by the face painting section* “Excuse me, I’m trying to find the stuff you spray on top of the body markers to make it permanent.”

Me: *baffled* “I’m sorry, did you say permanent, like lasts your whole life permanent?”

Customer: “Yeah, I was told there’s a spray that you can put on body markers to make it permanent.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, there’s setting spray which will make face paint last longer that might work on the markers but spray to make it last your whole life doesn’t exist.”

Customer: *getting huffy* “My daughter has a drawing on her arm that she says is ink made permanent with spray. Are you telling me it doesn’t exist?”

Me: “Ma’am… are you sure it’s not a tattoo?”

(She stares at me in shock, then in utter fury before whipping out her phone and starting to dial. She yells into the phone as soon as she gets connected.)

Customer: “Did you get a tattoo?!”

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(A colleague and I are travelling to Cocoa Beach, Florida. The nearest commercial airport is in Melbourne, Florida, about ten minutes south. He’s an Australian engineer, with a very heavy accent. He gets the company credit card and arranges our air travel.)

Coworker: “Al ‘ight, [My Name]. Gotcher ticket to Melbourne right here!”

Me: “Melbourne, Florida, right?”

(I have been sick and haven’t been able to get much sleep. After another night of tossing and turning, I’m feeling delirious.)

Me: “I need to take my temperature again.”

Husband: “I don’t know where you put the temperature thing.”

Me: “Temperature thing? You mean the thermometer?”

Husband: “Yeah.”

Me: “I put it next to the ther-DAD-iger.”

Husband: “No. Just, no. Back to bed with you.”

Me: *laughing and coughing fit*

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(My friend and I are at a nail salon where I am a regular, getting our nails done. We are chatting with the nail technicians when a young girl about four or so comes in with her high school-age sister. They are greeted and go to pick their nail colors. The four-year-old breaks several bottles of nail polish and starts yelling at us to clean it up.)

Four-Year-Old: “Clean it up! Clean it UP!”

(The staff do so, with the four-year-old and her sister glowering. Neither of them says sorry or apologizes. The sister starts getting her tips done, and the four-year-old waits for her. After about ten minutes, their mom shows up. She blazes into the store with her son in a shopping cart, crashing hard into the glass door and nearly breaking it, too.)

Mom: “I understand I owe you for some nail polish that got broken?!”

Staff Member: “Oh, no, it’s fine. It’s okay. No charge.”

Mom: “No, I would like to pay.”

(She goes over to examine her little girl and notices the several colors of nail polish streaked down her leg. One is glitter pink and one is a deep blood red.)

Mom: “Oh, MY GOD! She CUT HERSELF and you didn’t even do anything?”

Sister: “Yeah, Mom, she asked for a bandage and they said NO!”

Four-Year-Old: “Yeah, Mom!” *starts to cry*

Mom: “I’m so sorry that she broke your PRECIOUS NAIL POLISH. How could you deny her a bandage, though? You’re more worried about the nail polish than my little girl?!”

(The staff attempt to explain but she does not let anyone finish a sentence.)

Mom: “You bunch of stupid immigrants don’t even speak enough English to know what I’m saying anyway!”

(She wheels out of there and the staff begin speaking quietly to each other in Vietnamese. Mom comes blazing back in.)

Mom: “You have something to say to me? Huh? You can say it to my face; we’re all adults here. Huh?! HUH?!”

(She is screaming and red in the face. Her kids are bawling. Finally, I have had enough.)

Me: “Ma’am—”

Mom: “I cannot BELIEVE—”

Me: “MA’AM! Your child did not ask for a bandage. They already said they won’t charge you for the polish she broke.”

Mom: “Of all the nerve! You’re telling me all my kids are lying?”

Me: “Ma’am, no one asked for a bandage. Even if she did, this is not a pharmacy. They’re not obligated to have one. IF she had, I have several and would have given her one. Besides, this is not a daycare. We’re not obligated to watch your child.”

Mom: “Rude. All of you are rude and selfish, and I’m going to sue all of you.”

Me: “Ma’am, this corner of the mall is covered by several security cameras, including one right behind your head. We can certainly review the footage.”

(Mom realized she was beaten and wheeled out of there, but not before giving us the finger. The employees were very nice and gave me and my friend a 10% discount! Stupid indeed?)

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