(This occurs the week after the Brexit result. It’s around five am and I’ve woken up from having a migraine. I don’t have any painkillers in my flat so I decide to go to a local superstore which is open 24 hours. As I only intend it to be a quick visit, I just slip on whatever is nearest to me: basically, the t-shirt I wore the day before, some tracksuit bottoms, a winter jacket, and beanie. I also rarely shave, so at this point I do look quite rough. As I enter the store I am blocked by a security guard.)

Guard: “The booze is off limits.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Guard: “The booze is off limits, not that you could afford it.” *leans close and sniffs* “Smells like you’ve had enough already.”

Me: “Actually I just came for some painkillers. I don’t drink.”

(I try to move around him but he pushes me. The force is enough to make me lose my balance.)

Guard: *laughing* “So pissed you can’t even stand up.”

Me: *getting up* “Look, I only came in here for one thing: a box of paracetamol. I wouldn’t even be able to get alcohol because it’s past midnight. So can I please—”

Guard: “We don’t serve people like you in here.”

Me: “People like me?”

Guard: “Muslim… homeless. It’s all the same. Now get out before I phone the police.”

Me: “Fine, I’ve had enough.”

(I make my way out of the store with the guard following. The guard decides to yell at me that “I’ll be the first to go” once we leave the EU. I get in my car and drive past the front of the store lowering my window. The guard has just realised I’m driving a Merc and is looking quite sheepish.)

Me: “You work at [Store I own, next door] sometimes, don’t you?”

Guard: “What of it?”

Me: “I’ll be re-evaluating my contract with your firm. I don’t want bigots like you working for me.”

(I drove off making a note to contact the superstore as well in the morning. I haven’t seen the guard since. I know this is quite mild in contrast to what has occurred in the wake of the referendum result, but it has only spurred me to fight this wave of discrimination further. To all of you who think the EU referendum or the US Election has given you the right to let your bigoted attitudes out: It hasn’t.)

(I stay home from work so I can receive a delivery between two pm and five pm. Five pm arrives and it hasn’t gotten here, so I call the company:)

Service Representative: “It says here your delivery is scheduled for tomorrow between eleven am and two pm.”

Me: “That’s impossible. I wouldn’t have scheduled the delivery for tomorrow. I have meetings at work.”

Service Representative: “Do you want to reschedule for next week?”

Me: *thinking I can move the meetings* “No… No, I’ll just stay home from work tomorrow. Again.”

(Tomorrow arrives. Two pm arrives. No delivery. I call.)

Service Representative: “We don’t have a delivery scheduled for you at all.”

Me: “What? That’s impossible. I just spoke with you yesterday.”

Service Representative: “There’s nothing here.”

Me: “Not even one that was canceled by mistake? Nothing for yesterday, nothing for today?”

Service Representative: “No. Do you want to reschedule for next week?”

Me: *sighs* “Fine.” *I tell her the entire story* “I demand that you look into this. I want an explanation. I just stayed home from work two days in a row for no reason.”

Service Representative: “I promise I will investigate this and call you back tomorrow.”

(She doesn’t, of course. Next week arrives, with the delivery scheduled for eleven am to two pm again. I have just finished dropping off the kids at school and am driving home at nine am when the phone rings. I don’t talk on the phone while driving, so when I get to my house I return the call to the unknown number.)

Delivery Guy: “Hi, I’m here with your delivery.”

Me: “What? You weren’t supposed to get here for another two hours!”

Delivery Guy: “I’m at your house already. Are you home?”

Me: “I just parked in front of the house. You’re lucky; I wasn’t even planning to be home right now. Give me a minute.”

(I get out of the car and cross the street, and there’s the delivery guy. He brings the delivery into the house, I sign for it, and he leaves. I close the door after him and almost instantaneously get a text message from the company’s phone number.)

Text: “Your delivery is running late. Please expect it to arrive up to an hour and a half after the scheduled window.”

(Three minutes later I get another text message.)

Text: “Your delivery is on its way. Please make sure you will be home to receive it.”

(The following day I got an email survey asking how the delivery experience was. You can probably imagine what my reply looked like.)

(My boss and I are looking at the security cameras we have just had connected to a screen in the main room. The screen is three by three frames.)

Boss: “Hey look at the top corner.”

Me: “Which one?”

Boss: “The TOP CORNER!” *like I’m an idiot*

Me: “Which corner?”

Boss: “The TOP!” *again like I’m an idiot*

Me: “There are two top corners, which one would you like me to look at?”

Boss: “THE TOP… Oh, I see what you’re saying now. Camera number three in the top RIGHT corner.”

Me: “I don’t know how you made it so far in life without someone trying to kill you.”

Boss: “Yeah, me either.”

(In a busy restaurant, I have a job carrying all the clean equipment back to the front. To get there, I have to carry everything through a narrow passage, which my coworkers keep blocking with trolleys, up to four deep, though I keep reminding them not to.)

Me: *carrying a massively heavy tray of glasses towards the front*

Coworker: *comes from the other direction and leaves a tall trolley in the doorway*

Me: *catches his eye*

Coworker: *looks at me blankly*

Me: *holds up tray and nods at the dining room*

Coworker: *pushes the trolley an inch further forward*

Me: *angry gestures*

Coworker: *turns the trolley diagonally*

Me: *sets down tray and grabs the trolley myself*

Coworker: *still standing in my way, staring blankly*

Me: *shoves trolley straight at him, forcing him to dodge out the way*

(I go in for a job interview for a job I’m really interested in. They tell me I’m a good match and that someone will call me later that week to let me know what they decide. A week later I get a letter in the mail saying I’ve been fired for that job with no chance of rehire. So I decide to call them to get the story.)

Company: “Hello, how may I help you?”

Me: “Hi there, my name is [My Name]; I had an interview last week and now I have a letter saying I’m fired?”

Company: “Well that’s what happens when you don’t show up for work; you get fired.”

Me: “But I was never told I was hired.”

Company: “Sorry, not my problem. You don’t work here anymore. Goodbye.” *hangs up*

Me: *head spinning in confusion*

(I got a job the next week where they told me I was hired and I showed up for work!)