(I was working at a store, pushing in carts from the corral. I had gone back outside for my second set of carts, when an SUV whips around the corner and into the fire lane. The driver stops the car, gets out, and glares at me.)
Me: “Ma’am, you can’t park there. It’s a fire hazard. Please move your car immediately.”
Lady: “MANAGER. NOW.”
(I go get my supervisor.)
Manager: “What seems to be the-”
Lady: “YOUR EMPLOYEE HERE WAS LEAVING DURING SHIFT! I DEMAND THAT YOU FIRE HIM!”
Me: “Oh, I see. I was getting carts at the corrals.”
Lady: “BULLS**T YOU LYING LITTLE F****T! I’LL BET YOU WERE SNEAKING OFF TO SEE YOUR BOYFRIEND! I’LL KILL YOU FOR BEING A H***SPAWN! COME HERE!”
(The woman literally lunges at me, attempting to grab me. I was taught self-defense from my father, who was a prison guard for several years, as well as the army. I end up interception the woman’s arm and pinning her to the ground.)
Lady: “HOW DARE YOU! GET YOUR FILTHY GAY SELF OFF OF ME! I DON’T WANT THE AIDS YOU HARBOR!”
Manager: “Ma’am, I’m going to make him let you go. If you don’t leave in 10 seconds after that, I’ll see to it that he kicks you across the parking lot.”
(The woman continued to scream for several seconds, then got in her car and sped away.)
Me: “Can I have my break?”
Manager: “Take an extra 15 minutes.”

(The owner of the building where the pet shop I work at is located came into the store with her daughter, who wanted to visit and see who was working for the day.)
Owner: Who’s working here today?
Me: (from the back of the store) It’s [my name].
Daughter: (as she approaches the counter) Sorry you have to work today.
Me: (bursts out laughing) I appreciate your sympathy.

(I’m going to the Austrian Alps with my parents to visit my brother. We’re checking in our luggage when I notice a sign by the check-in desk.)

Sign: ASSAULTS ON STAFF: While traveling through the airport, please be courteous when dealing with our staff. Any threats, verbal abuse or violence towards our staff will be taken seriously and you may be prosecuted. Photography and video recording of our staff is prohibited. Our staff is trying to help you with your journey. Thank you for your cooperation.

(It’s a sad world we live in where this needs to be spelled out to people. And even sadder that the sign probably doesn’t help all that much.)

Customer: I’d like to exchange these [matinee] tickets for the [an evening] showing.
Me: ok, I can do that for you. (I punch the exchange into the computer.) Ok, you owe $4 since evening tickets are $2 more apiece.
Customer: What?! I already paid for these! I don’t owe anything!
Me: well you see ma’am, the show you’re wanting to see is an evening show. Those cost two dollars more apiece, so you owe the difference.
Customer: I told you! I already paid for these tickets! I don’t owe anything!
I continue trying to explain this to the woman, to no avail. I finally called my manager, who gave me permission to give her two child tickets. (child evening tickets are the same price as a matinee ticket)

(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!)