(I’m at a regular checkup, but because I’d gained a lot of weight in a short amount of time, I needed blood work done to test for diabetes or a thyroid problem. I have a debilitating anxiety about injections of any kind, even vaccines, and because I have Asperger’s Syndrome, I can’t always deal with stress the same way most people can. This is about 5-10 minutes after my appointment was expected to end, and I’d been sobbing and carrying on for a long time.)

Nurse: “You’ll be fine, sweetie. It’s a very small needle. I’m sure you’ll barely feel it!”

Me: “I DON’T CARE, I DON’T WANNA BE ANYWHERE NEAR IT!”

Nurse: “You can look away from the needle.” *gives me a foam stress toy* “Here, you can squeeze on this if it helps.”

Me: “That’s not gonna help, I’ll end up looking at it anyway!”

Nurse: “I see…how about I give you a little while longer to calm down, then we’ll get this over with.”

(She takes off the tourniquet, and I take some deep breaths and look at my mom, who has nothing to say but gives me a sympathetic look and gently pats my leg before pulling out her phone. Suddenly, I have an idea.)

Me: “I think I know what might help.” *to the nurse* “Do you have anything I could cover my eyes with?”

Nurse: “Hmm…I might have something. Let me go check.” *leaves the room*

Me: *as the nurse walks out* “Thanks.” *to my mom* “Can I see your phone?”

Mom: “Okay. Let me finish up.” *taps a few things before passing me the phone*

Nurse: “I’m back.” *passes me a folded hostpital gown* “This was the best I could find. We need to do this now.”

(Within about a minute, I was ready. With the gown pressed firmly over my eyes and the phone placed next to my ear with a video of kittens meowing at full volume, we finally got the procedure over with–and now I know what to do next time I have to get poked with a needle!)

(I am buying some snacks at a convenience store in a rough neighbourhood that sells hot dogs. I look over and see a large man drop a hot dog on the floor. I also see three other dirty hot dogs on a nearby counter, so this isn’t his first dropped hot dog. He goes to pay for his hot dog (the fourth and last one) with me behind him in line.)

Customer: Here you go *hands cashier some change*

Cashier: This isn’t enough.

Customer: What do you mean!?

Cashier: You need to pay for the other three you dropped too.

Customer: THAT’S BULLSHIT!

(As he says that he drops the hot dog he’s holding.)

Customer: LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!

Cashier: How was I responsible for that?

Customer: You were distracting me!

Cashier: *sighs* That’s five hot dogs you’re going to pay for.

Customer: THERE’S NONE LEFT! Make me another!

Cashier: I don’t have any more hot dogs in the store. They’ve all been dropped on the floor. That’ll be $10.50.

(At this point the cashier beckons me to pay for my things and I walk over. All of a sudden two other people, the customer’s friends, jump out from somewhere else in the store and stand behind him, over my shoulder, to shout out the cashier.)

Customer’s friend #1: Who do you think you are!?

Customer’s friend #2: You’re just robbing poor people!

Customer: You’re a FUCKING THIEF!

Cashier: Leave now, before I call the cops.

(I left as soon as I could, and watched through the window as the three muscular men continued to shout at the cashier. I hope he did call the cops.)

(I work at a very well-known coffee shop. This was my first day ever. My boss was showing me how to work the register. A white woman comes up. Note: I’m Indian.)
Me: Hello, Welcome to [coffee shop]. My name is [My Name]. What would you like today?
Woman: Oh my God!
Me: What’s wrong, ma’am?
Woman: I can’t believe they let immigrants work!
Me: Excuse me?
Woman: Go back to Mexico, ugly piece of s**t!
Me: (speechless)
Boss: Excuse me, ma’am, what’s the problem?
Woman: You let immigrants into your shop? I will never come back here!
Boss: Ma’am, [My Name] here was born and raised here and is Indian.
Woman: I doubt it!
(She picks up a man’s coffee, throws on me, and runs out)
Me: (crying)
Man: Here, have this.
(He gave me $100 dollars and bought me a coffee! Thank you, sir!)

Customer: Yeah, I need 2 cartons of Marlboro Lights in a box.

Me: Okay. That will be 47.73

Customer: Oh my! I hope you can break a $50!

*pushing carts back into the vestibule*
Customer: How dare you! I backed my car into my cart! This is your fault. Well you should have moved it for me cause that is your job.
Me: I do apologize for that. But surely you noticed the receptacle for the carts once used. We are also not hold liable for damages.

Customer: I’ll complain to your boss.

*my boss said the same thing*