I’m working the customer service desk and am dealing with a return from a tall male customer. It’s a safe assumption that my customer is gay, with all the stereotypical mannerisms, etc.

As I am serving my customer, a short old woman starts talking to my coworker to do her own return.

Old Woman: “I need to return this coat. I only wore it the once; I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s a bit too loud for me.”

For some reason, all four of us (two workers, two customers) all realise the same thing at the same time.

The old lady is returning a long winter coat that is EXACTLY the same as the one currently being worn by the young gay man. The man instantly picks up on this.

Young Man: “Oh, no, no, no. Darling, you would slay in that coat! I can just tell! Do not return that!”

Old Woman: “Ha! It’s all right, dear. It looks much better on you than it did on me.”

Young Man: “Well, come on, let me see you wear it.”

Old Woman: “Oh… I don’t know…”

Young Man: “Just let me see. I will give you my honest opinion as a gay man, but I can tell right now that you will be a queen in that thing.”

The old woman, bolstered in confidence by her new cheerleader, tries on the coat.

Young Man: “Yaaaas, queen! You slay, girl! We just need to get you the right accessories, and—”

Old Woman: “You… you really think so?”

Young Man: “What made you get the coat in the first place? Part of you must have liked it.”

Old Woman: “My granddaughters convinced me to try it on. I liked it at first, but I was worried what other people might think… It’s a bit young.”

Young Man: “Your granddaughters think you’re a cool grandma, and so do I. Come here, darling. Let’s go prove them all right.”

And with that, the young man takes the old lady arm-in-arm, and off they go into the shop to do some accessorising. At no point does the old lady look like she was upset or unhappy; in fact, she seems to be happily surprised by the attention.

Within half an hour, they are both leaving the shop, the young man treating this suddenly happy old lady to a scarf, gloves, sunglasses, and some other small odds-and-ends to “complete the look”.

As they’re leaving:

Young Man: “Let’s go get a coffee, darling. We need to do a photo shoot for your Instagram.”

Old Woman: “I don’t have an Instagram.”

Young Man: “Not yet…”

Old Woman: “Oh… how exciting!”

It wasn’t until the next day that the young man came back to do his original return (which he had forgotten about and I had put aside for him). I asked about his adventures with the grandma, and he excitedly showed me her new Instagram account, with pictures from a nearby bougie coffee shop, all dolled up in her coat and accessories.

I followed her, and I love to see them both do their coffees once a week!

I work at a wing place where our hottest flavor wing requires a signed waiver if you order it. I have a HIGH tolerance for spice, and I won’t even taste-test these wings because I can smell the intensity.

A group of twelve men have just been seated.

Customer #1: “I wanna try those crazy hot wings!”

Me: “Okay, but first, I have to say that these are not enjoyable. You have to sign a waiver. If you’re ordering them because you like spicy food, then get the regular spicy wings instead. Trust me; I have an extremely high tolerance for spice, and these are a nightmare. Honestly, they’re only on the menu as a marketing gimmick, but no one should ever really order them.”

He actually listens and starts to order something different when the guy next to him decides he knows better.

Customer #2: “I’m not going to let some chick talk you out of ordering ‘spicy’ wings. Get the wings, dude.”

Of course, he falls to peer pressure and orders the super spicy wings.

Me: “When you’re in pain, just remember the ‘chick’ who tried to help you. Also, no refunds.”

He got through half a wing… and was in pain for the next hour. I also charged for every glass of milk he ordered.

At my job, minors are forbidden from touching any of the heavy-duty equipment. That’s probably commonplace at most jobs (or not — I’m unsure), but the chain I work for is extremely strict with it. (At the very least, they don’t mess around with it at my store.)

In fact, when you’re hired you are told one of two things. If you are a minor: do not touch the equipment. If you are not: if they ask you to run the equipment for them, they’re not being lazy. They can’t use it. No matter your position within the store, everyone is told this, and even if you forget, there is a laminated sheet on EVERY PIECE OF EQUIPMENT that says this.

In fact, minors aren’t trained at all on how to use heavy-duty equipment beyond the emergency stop button. 

I was pushing in a cart of cardboard when I heard some yelling. Two of my coworkers were in an argument. [Coworker #1] is still a minor, while I know that [Coworker #2] is somewhere in her thirties.

Apparently, [Coworker #1] was throwing cardboard in the baler, which is fine, and asked [Coworker #2] to turn it on for her.

This set [Coworker #2] off, as she went on about “effing lazy teenagers” and such, and refused to do it, even threatening to go straight to a manager. I backed [Coworker #1] up, stressing that she couldn’t use it.

[Coworker #2] did not like that. A manager was passing by, heard the commotion, and asked what was going on. This manager is great, as she does back us up, doesn’t mess around with safety, and also has endless patience 99.9% of the time.

This is the .1%.

[Coworker #2] told her everything, and [Coworker #1] and I both nodded along, agreeing.

Coworker #2: “…and I am so sick of these stupid, lazy, and disrespectful teenagers! If you don’t—”

Manager: “They’re minors. They cannot legally touch the equipment. You were told this during your orientation, and we had a safety meeting last month where we reminded people that they couldn’t use them. There’s a sheet on the machines that says they can’t use them. If you aren’t comfortable running the machine, then there are plenty of other employees who can. Get one of them.”

Honestly, I did feel as though [Manager] was giving [Coworker #2] too much of the benefit of the doubt that maybe it got missed and she wasn’t told within her probation, but this was clearly a last-chance mini-lecture.

[Coworker #2] was then told to do some work up front, and I helped [Coworker #1] with the baler. At the next morning meeting, while [Coworker #2] was not specifically called out, it was said that minors couldn’t use the machines, and if anyone was caught yelling at them to use them, there would be write-ups.

[Coworker #1] was old enough the next day, and I taught her how to run the machine.

The old people’s home next to my house has gotten into the habit of leaving the same Christmas album playing on a loop ALL NIGHT. I can hear it even with the windows shut and wearing earplugs.

I leave a polite note on their door, but nothing happens.

Less than a week later, it suddenly stops. I am talking about it to my neighbour, who is an electrician.

Neighbour: “Oh, yes, I left a note saying I would disconnect the power to the entire building if they didn’t turn the music off at night.”

Our restaurant is in a pretty conservative state. This is right after we are allowed to reopen following the lockdowns. The rule right now is that guests have to wear masks as they enter the building, but once they’re seated, they can remove them.

One of our bartenders is working as a maître d’.

Customer: “Don’t you think it’s stupid that we have to wear the masks just until we get to our table?”

Bartender: *Without skipping a beat* “Yep, almost as stupid as arguing about it.”

SOMEHOW, the guest just laughed it off and said, “Good point.”