I am a barista at a well-known coffee chain. On a slow day, a woman walks into the store and proceeds to stare intently at the pastry case for about thirty seconds whilst wiping quite intently at her nose with a tissue.

Me: *feeling a little awkward but smiling politely anyway* Hello! See anything you like today?

The lady continued to stare at the case for another few seconds, ignoring my inquiry, before finally walking over to my register. She begins to speak, but her voice is so quiet that I can only make out the words “caramel.”

Me: So you would like a caramel macchiato, then?

Woman: *continues speaking in a very hushed voice*

Thinking that she was speech-impaired, I took a piece of paper, smiled, and offered it to her, making a gesture to request that she write her order. Upon my doing this, she looks at me like I just spit in her coffee and walks over to my manager. I hesitant before serving the next guest that just walked up, and in-between I can hear her talking to him, her voice suddenly loud enough to hear now. She is complaining, but still not clear on what she wants. After my guest leaves, this lady returns, and my manager believes that she indeed wants a caramel macchiato. While trying to complete the transaction, she stands away from us, at the other side of the wall from the register, and once again neither of us can make out her words.

Manager: *politely* Can you come closer, please?

Woman: *speaking is unreadable again, this time because she’s too far away*

Manager: *still polite, almost too sweet* Ma’am, can you come closer?

After a few more attempts, all the while the woman standing there with an unreadable, almost smug look on her face, my manager has had enough.

Manager: *with a tone still sweet as sugar* If you can’t come closer to pay then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.

Woman: *now loud enough that the whole store can hear* F***ER! *storms off, knocking over some newspapers from the rack on her way out*

Maybe we should start making pastry cases for drinks as well?

I am busy ringing up a customer when someone spills coffee on the floor. They pretend it didn’t happen and walk away. A moment later, an old woman, also carrying coffee, walks by and I warn her not to slip and fall. She mishears me and starts yelling that she is not the one who spilled it.

Then she says, “See? My coffee is a different color!” and proceeds to pour her own coffee on the floor to prove it.

(My mom, brother, and I are at a craft store. My mom sees the aisle with doll-making supplies, but mistakes the little clothes for ones meant for premies or newborns.)

Mom: “Aw, look; baby clothes!”

Brother: *picking up a doll torso* “Aw, baby bodies!”

(My mom and I go to a grocery store, buying a s***load of stuff. An old man behind us is asking if he could go before us, as he only has a pair of slippers, so we say yes. While he was buying it, we make small talk:)

Old Man: “So, are you from around here?”

Mom: “No, I am from Korea. Why?”

Old Man: “I was just wondering since you were so nice. People from other countries are nice. Japanese people are nice…”

 (Pause.)

Old Man: “People from around here aren’t that nice.”

(My doctor has me on a restricted diet, which includes disallowing garlic and garlic powder. Yeah, it sucks. But if I eat it, I risk lying on the ground in agony and restarting my eight weeks of treatment. I am going grocery shopping and see a special on burgers.)

Deli Worker: “Let me know if you have any questions!”

Me: “Do the steak burgers have anything besides beef, salt, and pepper in them?”

Deli Worker: *upbeat and confident* “Nope! When it says, ‘salt and pepper,’ we mean only salt and pepper!”

Me: “Great! I’ll take eight.”

(It’s a friendly and helpful interaction, and I’m happy… until I get home, and my grocery bag smells distinctly of garlic. I read the printed sticker on the burgers:)

Ingredients: “Steak, salt, pepper, garlic, rosemary, other spices.”

(Great. I need to go back — a forty-minute round trip — and return these. I hate to ask for a manager but I figure next time they might accidentally kill someone by misinformation. I explain the issue to them during the return.)

General Manager: *stares at package* “You’re allergic to what?”

Me: “Garlic. But I was specifically told it only has beef, salt, and pepper when I bought it.”

General Manager: “Oh. People make mistakes, y’know?”

Me: “I could have been really ill if I hadn’t read that before eating it.”

General Manager: “Well, with that kind of allergy you really should check the packaging.”

Me: *sarcastically* “Silly me for trusting the people who work the deli counter.”

General Manager: “Yeah, well, sometimes we have new people… I guess I can go back and talk to them but you should really read the packaging.”

Me: “Good thing I did?”

(So, next time they accidentally land someone in the hospital, know that I tried. I really did.)