During one of my grocery shopping runs, I spend enough to qualify for a “get $10 off on your next visit if you spend $50 or more” coupon. Unfortunately, I forget all about it until it has almost expired. I’ve already done my grocery shopping for the week, so I decide to visit the store and give the coupon to someone. I talk to the first person I see.

Me: “Excuse me. Would you like–” 

Person #1: “Not interested!” 

He scurries away. Hmm, I guess he thought I was a panhandler. Okay, skip the chitchat; get straight to the point. I try again with the next person I see.

Me: “Hi. I’ve got a coupon for $10 off that I can’t use. Would you like it?”

Person #2: “No, thanks.”

Really? You don’t want to save ten bucks? Maybe she thought I was a scammer. I try yet again to offer the coupon to the next person, a woman who’s with her husband.

Me: “Hi. I’ve got a coupon for $10 off if you spend $50. I can’t use it; would you like to have it?”

Person #3: “We won’t be spending that much, but thanks, anyway.”

Person #3’s Husband: “We won’t?”

Person #3: *Firmly* “No.”

Me: “Okay!

As I walk away, I hear the husband say:

Person #3’s Husband: “Are you nuts? We’ll definitely be spending at least $50! Why didn’t you take the coupon?”

I was finally able to give the coupon to the next person: a harassed, tired-looking young woman who was thrilled to get it. Phew!

Back in 1988, I sold my small music store to a larger music store and was offered a job there. I decided to take it.

On my first day, an older lady — a piano teacher — with zero personality came up to me and handed me a note. It was a list of piano books she wanted. As there was no one in the music book section to assist — they were either away or helping other customers — I took the note and started looking for the books, even though it wasn’t part of my job or specialty.

I guess I was taking longer than expected and she came up to me and started b****ing that I was taking too long. I explained politely that it was my first day and I wasn’t familiar with the layout of the books. She huffed and said something like, “You’re just being stupid. The books are in the same places they always are.” Again, I said it was my first day and had no experience in the books, as musical instruments like guitars, drums, etc., were my specialty. That didn’t satisfy her and she continued to b**** at me while I tried to fill her order. 

She was so incredibly annoyed with me that she let out a big groan and almost yelled, “Someone get this stupid boy out of here and get me someone to get my order!” I was totally embarrassed, not knowing any of my coworkers and not knowing the store. Eventually, one of the girls came and helped her (and me). 

After a couple of weeks, I got my bearings and my confidence. I was standing at the front counter and the same old cranky sourpuss proceeded to walk up and hand me a note. I looked at it and said, “What’s this?”

“My book order.” 

I replied, “Yeah? And…?”

She looked at me sternly and said, “AND?! THESE ARE THE BOOKS I WANT!”

I handed it back and said, “When you go shopping, do you go up to the cashier in [Grocery Store] and hand her your grocery list? Go get ’em yourself.”

The girls in the music department turned and stared at me. My boss gave me a “What the h*** are you doing?” look. 

I told him, “You don’t need rude customers like this in here.” He actually laughed and from that point forward, the girls in the music book department would help people find books, but no one ever took another list from anyone else. Sometimes you have to bring that rock‘n’roll attitude to the classical music section.

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 am a few months into my first “real” job. My marriage recently ended, and I am feeling very unhappy. Some but not all of my coworkers know that I am getting divorced. My birthday is coming up shortly, and I decide to throw a party to cheer myself up. What birthday party is complete without cake? So, I make a phone call.)

Me: “Hi. I’d like to order a birthday cake, please. It needs to be big enough to feed 25 to 30 people.”

Bakery Employee: “No problem. What would you like it to say?”

Me: “‘Happy Birthday, [My Name].’”

(I hang up the phone and realize that two of my coworkers are staring at me.)

Coworker #1: *smirking* You’re ordering yourself a birthday cake? That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

Me: “Well, I want a cake for my party. You’re all invited, by the way.”

Coworker #1: “Can’t someone else order it for you? What about your husband?”

Coworker #2: *nudges [Coworker #1]*

Coworker #1: “What?”

Coworker #2: “She’s getting divorced, idiot.” *to me* “I’ll come to your party. Can I bring anything?”

Me: “Just yourself.” *smiles gratefully*

(The party ended up being a huge success. The cake was delicious! By the time everyone had left, it was 1:30 am and my house was a mess. Oh, did I say everyone had left? Not quite. [Coworker #2] stayed behind to help me clean up. And – to paraphrase a famous saying – several years later, Reader, I married him.)

(My husband and I decided to buy a new house. It is a showhome, and because of that, the builder insists that it has to stay “on show” until a certain date, even though it is now ours. This date is roughly six weeks from the day that we have to vacate our old house. That leaves us scrambling to find somewhere to live for ourselves, our very small daughters, and our two cats. We find a motel that is fairly cheap and will allow us to stay for the entire six weeks, and luckily, we have friends who agree to look after the cats. We still have to get our girls to and from daycare, and ourselves to and from our jobs. Needless to say, though, this is all fairly complicated and stressful. Add to that the fact that our daughters are only four and two, and I am working two jobs. Fast forward to when our new house is finally ready. My parents fly in from their city to help us move in. A few days later, I need to return some books to the library, so I invite my mum to come with me.)

Librarian: “You realize that these books are overdue?”

Me: “Really? Oh, dear. My life has been a bit crazy lately. How much do I owe?”

Librarian: “$6.”

Me: “Yikes. I guess it’s people like me who keep the library funded, though, eh?” *laughs*

Librarian: *takes my money without changing expression*

(As we are leaving…)

Me: “I guess he’s heard that ‘joke’ before.”  

Mum: *silent*

Me: “It wasn’t all that funny anyway.”

Mum: *coldly* “It’s more likely that he couldn’t believe anyone could be so stupid as to accrue $6 in library fines. What on earth were you thinking?”

Me: *stunned and hurt* “Mum, have you any idea how nuts it’s been for me over the last few weeks? Some things were bound to slip through the cracks.”

Mum: “Whatever. You should have been more careful.”

(I was very thankful when she and Dad flew home a couple of days later.)