(A customer comes to the drive-thru at a time we would class as off-peak, where there are only three of us plus a manager in, and everything is made to order. Generally we manage fine and only get very small lines of customers who don’t mind waiting once they know it’s all fresh.)

Customer #1: “I want seven boxes of twenty chicken nuggets, and fifteen burgers — two with extra cheese, five without pickles — and fifteen packets of fries, but I want three of them unsalted.”

Me: *struggling to keep up with the demands* “Okay, your total is [total]. Drive to the first window to pay, please.”

(They pull up to the window. I explain that it’s going to take a while to prepare the order, so I ask them to park up and tell them that I will bring it out to them when it’s done.)

Customer #1: “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll just wait here.”

Me: “No, really I am happy to bring it out for you. If anyone else has a basic order like a drink, it means we can serve them and let them on their way while we wait for your food to cook.”

Customer #1: “Nope. You just focus on getting my order done, buddy. I’ll move when I have my order.”

(I walk away, as they obviously aren’t going to move, so I try to muck in and get the order done as quickly as possible. Much to my annoyance, we suddenly get a long line of cars pulling up outside, going all the way around our restaurant. More orders come in while we are stuck, unable to serve people behind with orders for drinks, desserts, and basic sandwiches that can be made up so quickly. Eleven minutes later, we finally have everything made up and send them on their way.)

Customer #2: *shakes head* “What was that all about? I could hear them yelling impatiently from back there!”

Me: “Yeah, sorry for your wait there. Just dealing with a big order.” *hands them their order* “Here is your order. Would you like any sauces with that?”

Customer #2: “These fries are soggy. I want new ones.”

Me: “Sorry about that. I’ll get some new ones put in for you now. Would you like a free drink while you wait? Then, if you could just park up there, that would be great, and I’ll bring it right out to you.”

Customer #2: “It’s fine; I’ll just wait here.”

Me: *screams internally*

(I worked here for a year, and two years before that in retail. Between the two jobs, I must have lost about ten years from my life expectancy with stress and despair. On my next shift, I walked in and presented my manager with a letter of resignation, and promised myself I would never work in a customer-facing role again.)

In elementary school, there were two kids from the same household that we all thought were “weird.” Both brother and sister were rail thin to the point where their heads looked more like skulls wearing tight skin, and the sister was losing hair. I didn’t recognize it as a sign of abuse. (In addition the fact that I was a child, my disability causes me health issues that look like neglect.)

There were always bruises on them, and they had black eyes, and rope burns on their wrists. They were absent all the time. The boy would frequently lose his temper and kick and bite. The girl was timid at times, loud and socially awkward at others. Both had horrible grades and the boy couldn’t read, while the girl read at a low level.

We did isolate both as a result. People were afraid to talk to the sister, even. Some hated and bullied them. I wasn’t very popular, either — my bullies weren’t as bad but I was afraid the bullies would join forces — so I stayed as far away as possible.

In fourth grade, we had a field trip coming up. My mom volunteered to chaperone it. They had so many volunteers that they split the class into groups of two. I was absent the day the groups were decided, so I got stuck with the sister. I complained to my mother in private. She told me that I should just give the girl a chance.

Half the kids went by bus, while the ones whose parents had volunteered were driven. We met up with the sister and everyone split up. Being on our own was actually really nice. I realized she was weird the same way I was. She was so happy getting to explore the Cultural Center, saying she never got to go anywhere but school and church. We had a lot of fun together.

Looking back, I don’t think Mom enjoyed the trip as much as I did. She kept asking things that I now realize were red flag questions. When Mom drove me home, she asked me a few more questions. Mom spent a lot of time on the phone when we got home.

I didn’t see the siblings at school after that. The teacher made a comment about them “changing homes,” but wouldn’t explain. If you’ll allow me to toot my mom’s horn, I’m really proud of her. The first time she saw this kid, she knew, she verified, and she took action. It’s like that old slogan: if you see something, say something.

(A guest walks up to my lane with nothing but a produce bag filled as full as possible with tomatoes. My store is strange in that we sell produce by quantity, not weight.)

Me: “Hello! Do you happen to know how many tomatoes you have here?”

Customer: *shrugs* “Don’t speak good English.”

Me: “All right. One moment.”

(As I begin counting the tomatoes, the customer speaks to me in a combination of Russian and broken English. I can only make out one phrase repeated multiple times.)

Customer: “Sister big boss.”

Me: “So, twenty-one tomatoes. Your total is [price].”

(I soon found out he was a regular, always getting a bag filled to the brim with produce — usually tomatoes, but occasionally bananas — and always talking about his big boss sister.)

(I’m picking up a few things at the store, and go through self-checkout. A man is waiting behind me, and is quiet until I pull out my food stamps card.)
Man: Ugh, you’re a poor piece of sh*t, you should have waited for all the REAL members of society to go first!
Me: …excuse me?
Man: You heard me! You probably sit at home and collect welfare instead of actually working! Do you have a sugar daddy too? Does he buy you fancy cars and phones?
Me: Sir, please stop.
Man: Well, I’ll stop when you stop living on government handouts.
(An employee hears him and comes over.)
Employee: I’m going to ask you to either calm down or leave. This woman has asked you to leave her alone, and you’ve continued to harass her.
Man: She should stop being so lazy!
Me: I’m not lazy, I’m too disabled to work, but don’t qualify for disability. My husband works, but we’re barely paying bills. I don’t collect welfare.
Man: …well, you’re still lazy!
(He stormed off. The employee gave me a discount on my groceries.)

My newly-pregnant sister-in-law and my grandfather are both doctors. Over lunch, they were discussing the stereotype of doctors making the worst patients. They both admitted they’re bad at making appointments for yearly check-ups and the like.

My brother spoke up, pointing to my sister-in-law’s baby bump, “Yeah, look what I had to do to get her to see a doctor!”