(My mother and I are out shopping and she wants to pick me up the new game for Christmas to be sweet. I, in turn, have just purchased her a nice bottle of wine, which I am holding in a state bag. We go to [Video Game Store]. A woman and her son, who is around 16, are in line in front of us. The cashier is male and probably 20 years old.)

Son’s Mom: “I want to buy the new [Grand Theft Auto] game for my son.”

Cashier: “Oh, sick, man. It’s rated ‘M’ for nudity and violence, though. Like, you get to go to strip clubs and stuff!”

Son’s Mom: “I didn’t know that.” *to her son* “Did you know that?”

Son: “Yeah, that stuff is kind of part of the franchise.”

Son’s Mom: *shrugs and buys the game*

Cashier: “You’ll definitely enjoy it, man!”

My Mom: “Hi, I would like to buy this game.”

Cashier: “Are you buying it for her? It’s rated ‘M’ and there’s a bit of female nudity and violence. I really can’t recommend it to someone under 17.”

My Mom: “It’s a good thing that she’s never seen female nudity or violence in her 23 years she’s been alive.”

I’m employed through a temp agency, like almost everyone in the department I work in. This is easier for the company, since they can’t guarantee full time employment, due to the nature of the work. This morning, we expect a new temp, but she’s very late. Our supervisor decides to call the temp agency to ask where she is.

After the first call, we hear she’s on her way, but the agency doesn’t know why she is so extremely late, so they promise to call us back.

When the agency calls back, our supervisor tells us what happened. The new worker, who lives in The Hague — about 35 kilometers from the town the office is in — is on the train station, but says she can’t afford to buy a train ticket.

Everyone is amazed by the story. We all feel very sorry for the girl for not even being able to buy the train ticket, which would require about €20. However, a few of us are here with a car, so the idea comes to send one of us over to pick her up. Our supervisor calls the temp agency again to tell them the plan.

After the call, our supervisor tells us, “The plot thickens.” Why? “She’s in Groningen.” Yes, she is in a city in the far northeast of the country, from which she would have to travel about 3 hours to get here! On the morning of her first day with us…

Needless to say, the new girl didn’t need to come in anymore. And as our supervisor said: “No wonder she couldn’t afford the ticket.”

(I am shopping with a friend. I notice a new employee at the register. While most employees at this store wear clothes with goth and/or metal aesthetics, she stands out; she is absolutely decked out with the store’s merchandise, and she has dyed a bright blue streak in her hair. Initially, I think little of it, and when I’m finished with my shopping, I go to her register to pay. Then…)

Employee: “Okay, and what is your email address?”

Me: “Why are you asking me for that information?”

Employee: *snottily* “Management says that everybody who shops here is joining our rewards program. Give me your email address.”

Me: “I have never heard of that policy before. What is my email address being used for?”

Employee: “Everybody who shops here is required to sign up for the rewards program to purchase. I am signing you up.”

Me: “No, thank you. You haven’t even explained what it is.”

Employee: “We will send you frequent promotional messages telling you what’s new at [Store]. You can also earn points with every purchase. It’s free money, and who doesn’t like that?”

Me: “No, thanks; I don’t want any emails from here. I want to pay for my stuff.” *pulls out wallet*

Employee: “I mean, I guess you could not join, if you really hate getting good deals and free money.”

Me: “I don’t want emails, thank you. Please let me pay.”

Employee: “But you’ve already earned points. I mean, there’s no need to be so wasteful.”

Me: “No, thank you. Here is my credit card.”

Employee: “If you don’t sign up for a rewards program, I’m giving them to the next customers. Those two guys behind you are going to steal your points.”

Me: “They can have them. Please let me buy my stuff.”

Employee: *glares as she slowly swipes my debit card on both sides* “Well, people have turned down joining the rewards program and regretted it before. Are you—”

Me: “I do not want to join your rewards program.”

Employee: “Ugh, fine.”

(I got my card and purchased stuff from her with no negative repercussions. She did indeed push the program on the two guys behind me; they obliged pretty quickly as she made passive-aggressive remarks about my intelligence. My friend reported similar behavior when she tried to pay later on, and even a few months later, when it turned out the employee not only managed to stick around but works most days and hours of the week. We have not returned since!)

While both of my parents were in the Army for many years, my mother has the more interesting stories. One story was from when she was an active-duty sergeant on base.

Two of her privates come to PE late, “strolling in,” as my mom puts it. As their sergeant, she tells them that as punishment, every time they see her, they have to do push ups.

At first, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but soon enough, they are given PX duties. My mom comes in to shop, and the privates stop and do push ups. She comes to the register to check out, and the privates stop and do push-ups. My mom goes around the store and comes up behind them. They stop and do push-ups.

They beg my mom to stop and promise to not be late to PE again.

(I am walking out of a department store and I have to go through the cosmetic section. A salesperson notices me.)

Salesperson: “Oh. My. GOD! You are gorgeous!”

Me: “Oh, thank you. I’ve been told I have a very symmetrical face.”

Salesperson: “You do. It’s amazing! Well, almost, except for those freckles.”

Me: “Oh. Well, I actually like my freckles, so—”

Salesperson: “You shouldn’t; they’re horrible. It shows you don’t care about your skin.”

Me: “And you just lost your last chance to make a sale.” *walks away*

Salesperson: *shouting* “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to sell anything to such a dermatological nightmare!”

(Who would hire a someone who goes from “gorgeous” to “dermatological nightmare” in one conversation to sell cosmetics?!)