(My boyfriend and I look nothing alike. He is five inches taller than me, has dark curly hair, and is as thin as a toothpick. He also has a really dark complex. On the other hand I am blonde, have an athletic build, and am freakishly pale. We are in a video game store and he is making a purchase.)

Cashier: “Okay, sir, this game is rated M for mature, so I need to see some ID.”

Boyfriend: “Sure, no problem.”

(My boyfriend starts to reach into his pocket to grab his ID when the cashier notices me.)

Cashier: “Ma’am, I need to let you know that this game is unsuitable for people under the age of 17 due to graphic violence, blood, and swear words. So I need to see your ID.”

Me: “Why do you need to see my ID? I’m not buying anything.”

Cashier: “This game has violence and blood, and may be unsuitable for him, so I have to let his parents know.”

Me: “I’m not his mother, so there really isn’t a reason for you to tell me or ask for my ID.”

Cashier: “It is rated M, which is a rating from the ESRB saying that there is graphic violence and blood, and shouldn’t be played by anyone under the age of 17.”

Boyfriend: “Erm… dude, I’m 20.”

Me: “I’m 19, and I’m not making a purchase. ”

Cashier: “If you’re not making a purchase then I’m going to ask you to leave, as your son is not old enough to make this purchase.”

(At this point I am starting to get self-conscious.)

Me: “[Boyfriend], do I really look old enough to be your mom?”

Boyfriend: “Nope.”

(My boyfriend hands his ID to the cashier, who just continues to look at me expectantly.)

Cashier: “Ma’am, I need your ID.”

(My boyfriend ended up asking for the manager, who was just as insistent that I need to show my ID so my ‘son’ can buy a game.)

(I’m a customer in a sandwich shop chain famous for letting you build your own sandwiches through a line. The girl working the line has one ear-bud in her ear, leaving the other open to hear me with.)

Me: “I’d like a foot long [bread].”

Worker: *stares at me blankly*

Me: “Hello? Foot long [bread]. Please.”

Worker: *grabs the right bread, cuts the foot long in half, and puts one of the six inch halves on the line*

Me: “No. No. Foot long. The big one, not little.”

Worker: “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” *grabs another foot long of the bread, slices it open* “You want it toasted?”

Me: “No.”

Worker: *begins putting it in the toaster*

Me: “I said no! Stop!”

Worker: “Okay, fine! What cheese do you want?”

Me: “No cheese.”

Worker: *puts cheddar on the bread*

Me: “Please take that off. I said NO cheese.” *she does so* “Okay, I would like the tuna salad, and extra tuna please.”

Worker: “I only have enough for your sandwich. We don’t have any extra.”

(The manager, who is stocking the racks that hold the chips, finally pipes up.)

Manager: “Go get some more from the back; you know where it is.”

Me: *after the worker is gone* “You know, I think she would do a better job if she’d get that thing out her ear!”

Manager: “What thing?”

Me: “The ear-bud she has in. I think she’s listening to music and she can’t figure out who to pay attention to.”

Manager: “[Worker]!”

Worker: *coming out with more tuna salad* “Yes?”

Manager: “Do you have ear-buds in?”

(She quickly pops the ear-bud out and hides it in her pocket.)

Worker: “No.”

Manager: “You know that’s not allowed. If I catch you again you’re being sent home.”

(She quickly finished my sandwich with no further problems but she sure gave me a death glare!)

(I’ve just finished dealing with a very difficult customer.)

Me: “Oh, my god, what a jack-a**.”

(Although I said this very quietly after the customer in question had left, my manager still somehow heard me.)

Manager: “Come see me in my office.”

(In the office, I get reprimanded for my behavior and threatened with immediate termination if it were to happen again. I took some time to reflect on my actions, and instead of talking about people behind their backs, I decide to spend my energy on improving my customer service. Eventually, I get a customer who has a rather tall order, but isn’t as difficult as the customer I got in trouble for. My manager sees me helping this customer, and takes me aside to tell me something:)

Manager: “Don’t bother helping that lazy son of a b****. He just wants you to do everything without lifting a d*** finger of his own.”

(After the threat he made, he goes ahead and says that about a customer within earshot. What a shining example of good behavior!)

(I am calling for a replacement gift card through a popular credit card company. The agent on the phone seems pleasant enough…)

Agent: “May I please have your address?”

Me: *gives address*

Agent: “Do I add ‘th’ to the end of the number on the street?”

Me: “Um, I guess.”

Agent: “Do I abbreviate street to ‘St’ or do I spell out ‘street?'”

Me: “You can just abbreviate.”

Agent: “And it’s north, as in the direction ‘north?'”

Me: “Yes.”

Agent: “Do I put a comma after the city in which you reside?”

(This goes on for several minutes, instructing her on how to add an address. I was a bit baffled the whole time but at least she was pleasant.)

(The place I work at has different areas and activities, including a kid’s play gym. There’s an employee stationed at the gate to check for socks and wristbands, and to help enforce the rules. I go down to let the employee take a break.)

Me: “Hey, I’m here to break you.”

Employee: *eyes go wide* “To WHAT me?!”

Me: “Break you? Let you go on break?”

Employee: “OH! I thought it was some sort of initiation or something… Uhm… Where do I go again?”

Me: “Up by the front counter, where you clocked in.”

(I briefly tell her how to clock out for break, and back in.)

Employee: “Uhm, thank you… Uh… How long of a break do I get?”

Me: “Half-hour to forty minutes. Try not to take longer than you need, since it’s busy.”

Employee: “Uh… thank you.”

(She leaves for break, and comes back about a half-hour later. I realize that this is her first day.)

Me: “Hey, welcome back. I’m [My Name], by the way.”

Employee: I’m [Employee]… Do I have to do anything tonight? Or…”

Me: “If you’re closing, just clean up and make sure everything’s put up. If you’re not, wait until the next person comes, then just clock out. Try to look like you enjoy your job.”

(She laughed a bit, and thanked me when she clocked out later that evening.)