(My friend and I are waiting in line at a nightclub. A guy in front of us presents his ID, but the bouncer isn’t buying it.)

Bouncer: “You can’t use this. It’s not a valid piece of ID.”

Guy: “Why not? It has my information on it.”

Bouncer: “First of all, it’s not government-issued. It looks like an employee ID. Second, do you seriously expect me to believe that this WHITE guy is you?”

(The photo on the ID clearly doesn’t match the guy, who is of Southeast Asian descent and is darker than the person in the photo.)

Guy: “Uhh… I’m a roofer. You gotta believe me, man! That’s me in the photo.”

Bouncer: “It’s almost October and we’re in Canada. That’s one h*** of a roofer’s tan you got there!”

Guy: “****!” *leaves the club*

(My friend, a former coworker, comes in on a Saturday to say hello. She is standing by the counter chatting with me when a regular customer comes in. I immediately go to serve her.)

Customer: “I’ll have a latte.” *looks at my friend* “You’re wearing that to work?!”

(My friend is wearing ripped jeans, a local band shirt, and boots you could kick through a wall with, as well as her nose stud and four rings in each ear.)

Friend: “I don’t work here anymore.”

Customer: “Well, no wonder, if you started showing up like a hooligan! Young people have no sense of professionalism these days! If I met you in the street, I’d think you were going to mug me!”

Friend: “Actually, I quit because I started a new job.”

Customer: “Doing what, exactly? Scaring children?”

Friend: “Sort of. I’m a kindergarten teacher.”

Customer: *gasps, grabs her latte, and runs out the door*

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(I’ve just started a new job in construction. This is also my very first labor-intensive job, so there’s a lot of things that I don’t know. Naturally, I have many questions to ask.)

Me: “Excuse me, Sir-”

Boss: “Hold it right there, buddy. I will not have you calling me ‘Sir’. I don’t really believe in ranks, so I want you to talk to me like an equal. Just call me by my first name.”

(A couple of hours later, I have another question to ask. But this time, I try to respect his wishes and do my best to ease up on my language.)

Me: “‘Scuse me Boss, I—”

Boss: “GODD***IT, NOT AGAIN! I told you that I don’t do well with those titles! Call me ‘a**hole’, call me ‘f***er’, but whatever you do, don’t call me ‘sir’ or ‘boss’!”

(I order some pizzas from a well-known pizza chain. The guy who delivers my pizza seems friendly enough, although his attitude is less than professional.)

Delivery Guy: “Here you go dude: three large pizzas and an order of garlic breadsticks. Your total comes to [price].”

(I hand over some cash to the delivery guy.)

Me: “All right, here you go, and a little extra for your efforts.”

Delivery Guy: “Thanks, bro. Sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner though. The directions to your house were f***ing difficult. I had made a wrong turn at some point, and I was like ‘Aw, s***!’ Wasn’t very pleasant at all!”

(I am a little taken aback by this. Not because of his choice of words, but because I live less than four miles away from the pizza place.)

Me: “Yeah, don’t sweat it. Drive safely now.”

Delivery Guy: “Thanks, pal!”

(I bring my pizzas inside and eat them with my family. Not more than ten minutes later, I receive a phone call.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Yo, this is [Delivery Guy] from [Pizza Chain] calling. I’m having a hard time finding your house. Could you possibly give me directions?”

(I recognize the voice. It is the same delivery guy who just delivered my pizzas.)

Me: “Dude, you already delivered my pizzas.”

Caller: “The h*** you on about? I have your pizza right here with me!”

Me: “You should probably double-check the address you’re looking for. ‘Cause believe me, I have three piping hot pizzas right in front of me right now.”

Caller: “Really? F***! Never mind, dude!” *click*

(While putting out some stock in the organic produce section of a small grocery store, I get asked this question by a well-to-do customer his early thirties.)

Customer: “Is this all your organic stuff?”

Me: “Yep, everything on this wall.”

Customer: “Great! What about the rest of the produce? Is it safe to eat?”

Me: “Yeah, they might have just used pesticides and whatnot on them.”

Customer: “Yeah, but are they still grown on trees, or are they all made in a factory?”

Me: “No… they’re all still grown on trees and in fields.”

Customer: “So, they’re all still grown on trees and stuff?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer: “Great! Thanks!” *walks off*

(Another customer has heard our conversation and turns to me.)

Another Customer: “They don’t pay you nearly enough, do they?”