(It is just before Christmas and my parents and I have flown interstate to spend the holidays with my sister. We are all heading down the highway back to her house, with my sister and mum in the backseat chatting away and me sitting shotgun, leaving my dad driving. We end up taking an exit too soon. Had my dad taken the correct exit, the speed limit we are traveling at, 100km/h, would have continued for some time. But instead, the speed limit for the exit we do take rapidly drops down to 80, and my dad, in his flustered state at having gotten lost, misses all the speed signs. Lo and behold, there are the cops. We get pulled over.) 

Officer: *to my dad* “You were doing 96 in an 80 zone.”

Dad: “We are visiting my sister, and I am unfamiliar with the roads.”

(When my flustered dad ends up starting to repeat himself, the officer cuts him off saying that he will be back after checking his license. In Western Australia, if you’re found speeding at up to 9km/h over you only get a $70 and no demerit points; however, at 10 to 19 over it’s $330 and two demerit points. Considering it’s just before Christmas, it’s double-demerit point season, leaving my dad facing a $660 fine and four demerit points. My mum is now having a go at my dad, getting him worked up, and he proceeds to enter what we call “the bombastic mode,” and as such, all information will go in one ear and out the other.)

Officer: *returns to the car* “Because you are travelling interstate and visiting family, and it’s the holiday season, I’m going to be lenient with the charge and only book you at the lower offence: $140 and zero demerits.”

(Bombastic Mode Dad proceeds to not take a word of this in and starts arguing with the officer, again saying how we had gotten lost etc. I lean over, grab his arm, look him dead in the eye, and say:)

Me: “Shut the f*** up.”

(I then look over at the officer, smile, and say:)

Me: “Thank you, officer. My dad really does appreciate you only fining him for a minor offence and not the higher offence, for which—” *death glares my dad* “—HE IS 100% AT FAULT. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a pleasant day, and don’t have to deal with any more morons today.”

(I release my tight grip on his arm and sit back. My dad then sheepishly takes the ticket and his license and thanks the officer, and the officer walks back to the patrol car.)

Mum: “You’re a f****** idiot.”

(I work in a chain bakery within a shopping centre. We are across from a supermarket and throughout the day a sales associate goes on “tastings,” essentially just standing in front of the shopfront offering free samples to people walking past. I am out on tastings when I am approached by an older man. I am eighteen and fresh out of high school.)

Random Guy: “Well, I suppose I’d better take one, then.”

Me: “Here you go, enjoy!”

Random Guy: “Hey, why did the baker go out of business? Because he ran out of dough!”

(Cue awkward laughter and a polite customer service smile.)

Random Guy: “Hey, can I buy you a drink?”

(This catches me totally off guard as this has never happened before, and I have no idea how to respond, so I just try to be polite.)

Me: *laughs* “No, thanks. I’ve got to do my work.”

Random Guy: “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a drink.”

(The dude walked away and I thought he was leaving, but he was back ten minutes later with what looked like a bottle of wine; it was a non-alcoholic drink from the supermarket next door. He gave it to me and I just thanked him and ran back inside as quickly as possible. I’m still not sure if he was a creep or just trying to be nice.)

(I am an employee at a drive-thru bottle shop that is attached to a pub and a restaurant. Previously, some of the regulars have been given discounts on their purchases in the shop, but that is being phased out as it is costing the business a surprisingly large amount of money.)

Customer: “I’ll have this, thanks.”

Me: “That’ll be $6.50.” *the regular price*

Customer: “No, I pay $5.”

Me: “I’m afraid my manager has told me we’re not allowed to give discounts anymore. Only he can do it.”

Customer: “No, I pay $5.”

Me: “I’ve been told that I’m not allowed to give discounts. It’s $6.50.”

(The customer glares at me.)

Customer: “You know, I really don’t like you. You have a bad attitude.”

Me: “Well, I really don’t like you, either.”

(The customer looks surprised.)

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “Because I don’t really appreciate it when customers come into the store and tell us how much they’re going to pay for things.”

Customer: “Well, I’m going to take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “Feel free.”

(He later came back, went into the attached pub, and had one of the bar staff purchase his drink from the bottle shop. He also complained to my manager, the bar staff, the bottle shop staff, and any patrons he could find about me. My manager told him in no uncertain terms that he was wrong and to stop complaining.)

While at university, I was a member of the Science Fiction Association. We shared a lot of membership with both the D&D club and, importantly, with the University Regiment. This meant that a lot of us learned a great deal about self-defense by osmosis.

Dial forward twenty years. I’m a teacher at a girls’ school, and our principal decided to have a guest lecturer to talk about assertiveness and self-defense. As part of it, we were asked to describe how we might react to someone trying to steal our money while making a withdrawal from an ATM. I’m sure that they were expecting “run” or perhaps punch with keys interlaced with fingers and other similar responses.

However, by coincidence, one of the staff at the school was also a female friend from uni who’d been a member of the Science Fiction Association. Our natural reaction was to start describing all the ways that one could disable or kill an attacker. I mentioned punching in the throat to crush the larynx, she talked about a palm strike to the nose to drive the bones up into the brain, I followed up with… well, you get the idea.

As we did so, we gradually noticed that the other staff were backing away from us.  

We got a lot of odd reactions for years afterward, and the principal never brought up self-defense again.

(My workplace contains hundreds of watches and several different brands. This occurs far too often.)

Me: “Hi there. How are you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I want to look at a watch in the window.”

Me: “Okay. Can you tell me what brand it is?”

Customer: “Uhhhh…” *…trails off, looking away*

Me: “Okay, can you tell me the price? The colour?”

(The customer shakes his head, beginning to get irritated.)

Me: *giving up* “Look, would you mind just going outside and pointing the watch out for me?”

Customer: “It’s out the front! I don’t understand how this is so difficult!”

Me: “We carry hundreds of items in our store. Do you really expect me to know what you want, with no information volunteered from you, just off the top of my head?”

Customer: “It shouldn’t be so hard to do your job!”

(Apparently, mind-reading is a part of the job description these days. Some people are ridiculously self-involved.)