(I am a 16-year-old that suffers from a bone tumor in my pelvic bone. This has prevented me from walking long distances. When this story takes place, I am just about to have my first surgery out of three. We are in a famous retail store and I am in a scooter as I am under strict doctor orders to not walk. I am looking at some dresses when a lady in her fifties marches up and the following happens:)

Lady: “I didn’t know that being lazy was a handicap. Get up. I need to use that.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not lazy. I am three days away from undergoing a–”

Lady: “SHUT UP! YOU ARE JUST A LAZY B**** THAT DOESN’T KNOW WHEN TO SHUT UP! EITHER GET OUT YOURSELF OR I WILL GET YOU OUT MYSELF!”

Me: “I wish you luck with that. If you touch me, I will press charges. My family is close with [Sheriff]. My mom grew up with him and my dad is a deputy. So, either leave me alone or I will press charges for harassment.”

Lady: “You liar! I’ll sue you when I hurt myself!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am a 16-year-old going to high school to become a lawyer; you can’t sue me. Even if you could, my uncle is a lawyer and will be very happy to hear how you are trying to force me out of my chair as well as harassing me. He will have a field day when he hears about this.”

(The lady sputters and walks away. I drive back to my parents and tell them what happened. They are happy to hear that I stood up for myself as I normally am the person that lets people walk all over me. When we go to pay, the lady storms up to us with the manager. The manager is friends with my family and goes to church with us, so he knows us well.)

Lady: “THERE SHE IS! SHE SHOVED ME OFF THE SCOOTER AND CUSSED AT ME WHEN I ASKED FOR IT BACK! I DEMAND SHE BE ARRESTED FOR ASSAULT!”

Manager: “[My Name], what happened?”

Me: “I was looking at dresses when she demanded that I get out of my scooter. When I told her no, she threatened to throw me off herself.”

Lady: “LIAR! LIAR! SHE’S JUST A STUPID CHILD THAT HASN’T GOTTEN A GOOD BEATING!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave; you have threatened this minor and you won’t stop screaming. Either leave or I will call the police!”

Lady: “I WON’T LEAVE! I’LL GIVE HER THE BEATING THAT SHE DESERVES BUT NEVER GOT!”

(The lady jumped at me and started to slap me. My dad quickly restrained her while the manager called the police. She was thrown in jail for a couple of years. The funny thing was, she tried to press charges on my dad for assault, but when her lawyers saw the video, they laughed her out of the building. I am doing fine now, although I am battling round two of my tumor.)

(I’m the youngest employee at my store and I also happen to be the manager. I often have customers bypass me and speak to one of the older employees thinking they have more authority than I do. This takes place in the weeks leading up to Christmas. A customer comes up to the counter with an expensive box of chocolates that has been heavily reduced due to the fact that it reaches its “best before” in a month’s time.)

Customer: “So, this box of chocolates from last year?”

Me: *looks at back to see when it was made* “It says here it was made in January, so it’s from the beginning of the year.”

Customer: “No! I mean is it from last Christmas?”

Me: “No, it was made in January.”

Customer: “Stupid girl!” *storms off*

(I think that’s the end of it, until the customer comes back up dragging one of our newer employees that I only hired a week ago. It just so happens that this employee is male and in his 50s.)

Customer: “Her! I want her fired!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “She lied to me! Look at the date on the box! It expires in a month! She said it wasn’t from last Christmas! I. Want. Her. Fired!”

Me: *to my very flustered coworker* “You can go back to what you were doing; I’ll handle this.”

Customer: *throws the box at me* “How dare you?! You are so rude! You can’t tell him what to do! MANAGER!”

(With this, the customer starts running the length of the checkout screaming for a manager. In the meantime, I have called security and the police.)

Me: *now bleeding from catching the corner of the box right in the soft tissue next to my eye* “Sir. I am the manager. And you just assaulted me.”

(The customer tried to flee the store but was caught by security and later handed over to the police. I’ve been working retail for over ten years and it still surprises me that people think they can assault us and not get into any trouble because they are the customers, and we are just the lowly employees.)

It’s relevant to know something about us Danes, something that makes certain other cultures view us as a bit cold and unfriendly: we like our personal space. We don’t like when our little bubble is invaded. We like to be left alone, and an unwanted intrusion is generally unwelcome. Keep to yourself and don’t cause trouble, basically.

It’s also worth pointing out that in Aarhus, unlike everywhere else in Denmark, passengers board the bus at the rear and exit at the front, or if the bus has a door in the middle, board in the middle and exit at the front and rear.

This particular bus has doors in the middle. On this ride, the bus is somewhat packed. There are no seats left, leaving only room for standing passengers, of which there are already quite a few. At one of the downtown stops, three boys, maybe 13 or 14, get on, and they immediately start causing trouble.

They are talking loudly to each other, have music blaring from a mobile phone, run up and down the bus, bump into other passengers, and talk rudely about certain passengers. Everyone else does the Danish thing and remains silent rather than doing anything about it.

As the bus steadily trundles toward the outer neighbourhoods of the city, it approaches a stop where a sitting passenger has to get up. In order for her to get out, an elderly lady with a crutch has to get up from her seat, a somewhat slow procedure. The departing passenger gets out, and before the elderly lady can sit back down, two of the three boys rush in and take the two seats.

The lady tells them, “Excuse me, I was sitting there.”

The boy now sitting in her seat tells her, “So what? Now it’s mine! Buzz off!”

Everyone around them looks miffed but does nothing, apart from one guy who helpfully offers up his seat. All this time, the driver has been waiting for the lady to be seated, watching everything in the rear-view mirror, and hearing everything as well as the boys, who are loud enough for everyone to hear. The elderly lady now seated, the bus sets off again.

However, having left the third boy standing in the front of the bus causing mischief, they soon abandon the seats to join their friend, leaving two other passengers to take the seats. Eventually, the boys wind up in the middle of the bus.

As the bus approaches a minor industrial area with nothing of interest, except to those who work there, it starts slowing down. To those of us who can see the next stop, this seems strange. No one has pressed “STOP” and there are no passengers waiting to board. The bus then comes to a halt at the stop, the middle doors open, and a voice comes on the tannoy:

“Would someone please throw those three baboons off the bus?”

In a split second, a few other passengers grab the boys by their arms or collars and more or less yank them out of the bus with enough force that they almost lose their balance, and with the doors closing, the bus sets off again, leaving the boys stranded in one of the most boring areas of Aarhus until the next bus comes by.

Strictly legal? Perhaps not. People actually cheer, though. Karma’s a b****.

It was my second day working at a music store and I was enjoying walking around, helping the odd customer, familiarizing myself with the layout and the instruments. I didn’t really know any of my coworkers yet but they were nice enough, and because the boss was such a cool guy, there were always more employees in the store than customers. 

On this particular sunny afternoon, I was making small talk with the employees and the boss about why there were so many employees working during the summer when I turned my attention to the customer walking through the door. She was about my age and drop-dead beautiful. Time seemed to stop as she came through the door and walked slowly towards me, but then she detoured and walked over to a grand piano.

Maybe she’s going to play an amazing song and we’ll fall in love and she’ll dig that I play guitar and drums…

My daydream was shattered when she started swearing, smashing on the piano keys, yelling, and throwing little musical gift items like pencils and erasers off the shelves. I froze.

I turned to my coworkers who had conveniently scattered like patrons in an old west saloon when Black Bart entered looking for a fight. They had literally vanished. I could see my boss’s head peeking out from behind an office divider. Seriously.

She continued on her tirade of destruction and I was the only one left to deal with it. I walked over to her and she started trying to hit me, cursing, and calling me every filthy name she could fling. So much for our romance. I grabbed her by the shoulders and literally steered her out of the store, but not before she kicked over a couple of acoustic guitars and an amp.

As I walked back into the store, my coworkers and boss reappeared, laughing. One of them said, “That’s how you do it!” Apparently, she did this a lot and no one had escorted her out as fast as I did with such minimal damage.

About six months later, she came into the store again, but this time she wasn’t high on something or had taken her medication. She was absolutely breathtaking, funny, and engaging, and I almost thought about going for it, but then I remembered her volatile little secret and kept it professional.

I work at a place where people can rent rafts and go down the river. A few customers from Arkansas have too much to drink and end up on the opposite side of the river to where they’re supposed to land.

Me:
“You guys gotta paddle over here!”

Drunk Lady #1:
“We’re wasted!”

She then hits the water with the paddle and yells, but the rest of her group does not paddle. They begin to drift by.

Coworker:
“You guys need to paddle in or you’re gonna go by!”

Drunk Lady #2:
“We’re trying as hard as we can, you motherf*****s!”

Drunk Man #1:
“Y’all motherf*****s rushin’ us or something’? We could just float by… check out the rest of the river!”

Drunk Lady #1:
“We could, ‘cause these f*****s are bein’ rude to us! I know I’m a Southern Belle but I sure know how to be a b****!”

Drunk Man #2:
“Did those guys just call us motherf*****s? We have a kid here! Rude a**holes! F*****s are cursing in front of a kid!”

They reach the shore, and everyone stumbles out of the raft except for a terrified seven-year-old.

Me:
“I hope you guys enjoyed your day on the river.”

Drunk Lady #2
“How could y’all motherf*****s curse in front of a kid? I’m ten weeks pregnant, too! We’re from Arkansas! I wanna talk to y’all’s boss!”

The group starts cursing at us, and then one gentleman comes up to me.

Chill Customer:
“I’ve been coming here every year since 2006 and I’m gonna come back again, and I’ll be sure to leave those drunk a**holes at home.”