22 Riskiest Places for Catching Coronavirus

Putting The LOL In Little Old Lady
AT THE CHECKOUT, BAD BEHAVIOR, GOLDEN YEARS, RETAIL | RIGHT | AUGUST 5, 2009
(I’m checking out my last customer, a little old lady, before covering a break when another customer starts unloading his stuff into the register. Note that I’ve shut off my light and put a “lane closed” sign up.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, my lane is closed. I have to go to another department and cover a break.”

Other Customer: “Well, isn’t that just f***ing convenient for you!”

(Right on cue, the little old lady I was helping turns to the other customer.)

Little Old Lady: “Who the h*** peed in your cornflakes this morning?!”

Other Customer: *storms off*

(I hugged the lady and she is now a regular of mine.)

This Boss Gets More Than Just The Check
AWESOME, LGBTQ, LOUISIANA, NEW ORLEANS, RESTAURANT, USA | RIGHT | JANUARY 10, 2013
(A young gay couple has become my favorite regulars at the small restaurant where I work. One day as I am talking with them, an older, more conservative-looking man walks past us to the To-Go pickup area. He stops short next to us, and in the same moment, I see one of the young guys look down with a panicked expression at where he is holding his boyfriend’s hand.)

Older Man: “[Name]! I didn’t know you ate here!”

Young Man: *uncomfortable* “Oh, yeah, um… it’s half way between work and my… boyfriend’s work, so.”

Older Man: *glances at James’ boyfriend* “Oh.”

(There is an awkward pause, where we all just stare at each other.)

Older Man: “I’m sorry, I’m being rude.” *offers his hand to James’ boyfriend* “I’m [Older Man], [Young Man]’s boss. Very nice to meet you. We all love James in the office.”

Young Man’s Boyfriend: “Oh! Nice to meet you, too! You know, [Young Man] is always talking about how much he looks up to you.”

(The young man is so visibly relieved that he is near tears. The three makes some more small talk before the older man heads off to pick up his lunch. I end up taking his payment and he quietly asks me to pay for James and his boyfriend’s meal as well.)

Older Man: “You know… when I was growing up, I was taught that being gay was bad, a sin. But that young man is the brightest kid I’ve ever known, and I can’t see a d*** thing wrong with him…” *pauses* “…or his boyfriend.”

(He smiled at me and then walked away without another word. To this day, I can’t think about the look on James’s face when I told him that his boss paid for his nearly $100 meal without wanting to cry.)

I’m Sorry… That You And Your Son Are Idiots
CRIMINAL & ILLEGAL, EDITORS' CHOICE, HOTEL, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, USA | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 17, 2008
(The night before, I called the police because of a hit and run in the parking lot of my hotel. The cops put some kid in handcuffs because of a tip I gave them. The next night, the kid’s mother found me.)

Mom: “Hey! You’re the girl, [My Name], that was working last night!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

Mom: “You know that the cops put handcuffs on my 16-year-old son?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I was here for that.”

Mom: “The police told me a girl named [My Name] told them my son wrecked that car last night. I want to know why you told them that.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, your son was down here talking about the car accident he was involved in last night.”

Mom: “But the cops put him in handcuffs!”

Me: “…”

Mom: “My son is only 16 years old, and they put him in handcuffs and didn’t even tell me!”

Me: “Well, what would you like me to do about that?”

Mom: “I want you to apologize.”

Me: “For what?”

Mom: “For calling to police and getting my son handcuffed!”

Me: “You want me to apologize for reporting a crime?”

Mom: “Yes!”

Me: “Well, I’m not sorry.”

Mom: “But the police put him in handcuffs!”

Me: “Sounds like you have a problem with the police.”

Mom: “Listen here, b****, I’m not leaving until you say you’re sorry!”

Me: “You might be a while, ma’am, because I’m not sorry!”

Fly The Friendliest Skies
AIRPORT | WORKING | MAY 8, 2013
(I suffer from panic attacks that can come on extremely suddenly and cause tetany, which means my muscles seize up. My sister and I are flying from Sydney to Queensland and, upon landing, I have an attack. It’s not until the rest of the passengers are off the plane do the stewardesses and steward notice me and my sister.)

Stewardess #1 : *to my sister* “Hey, is she all right?”

Sister: “She’s having a panic attack.”

Stewardess #2 : “Is she scared of flying?”

Sister: “No, she just gets attacks really suddenly. She’s not breathing well and she can’t move.”

Stewardess #2 : “I’ll go see if I can lower the oxygen masks.”

Stewardess #1 : “It’s ok, honey; I’ll go get the medical staff.”

(The steward sits next to me.)

Steward: “So, I’m Robbie. What’s your name?”

Me: *gasps*

Sister: “Her name is [My Name].”

Steward: “And here I thought her name was Gaspy. How are you holding up, Gaspy?”

(I laugh, which hurts. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and straightens me up from my fetal position, which also hurts.)

Steward: “I know curling up in a ball feels good right now, but it’s not helping your breathing get any better. Keep straight for me, Gaspy.”

Me: “It hurts.”

Steward: “I know, I know. Try and slow your breathing down, though. Come on, Gaspy. Let’s become [My Name] again.”

Stewardess #2 : “I can’t lower the oxygen masks for one person, apparently, but I’ve radioed the airport and they’re bringing in a tank for her.”

Me: “What?”

Sister: “Seriously, it’s just a panic attack. We both have them all the time. A glass of warm milk, and we’re fine.”

Steward: “Warm milk, eh? Lame! Here at [Airline], we do things in style! Oxygen tanks all the way! Plan to be spoiled, Gaspy.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Stewardess #2 : “Don’t be sorry! We’re having fun!”

(Stewardess #1 returns, followed by a medic with a wheelchair and oxygen tank.)

Steward: “Up we go then.”

(The steward gets to his feet and somehow manages to get me into his arms in the narrow gap between the seats. He carries me to the chair and sits me down.)

Me: “I’m really, really sorry.”

Medic: “Stop apologising; this is the best part.”

(He puts the oxygen mask on me and straps me to the chair.)

Me: “I don’t think I need that.”

Medic: “It helps. Trust me.”

Me: “Okay…”

Medic: “And out we go!”

(They wheel me off the plane and through the hall to the airport. We hear shouting from the terminal and it turns out I’d held up the next flight by 45 minutes.)

Steward: “Ready for the best part?”

(We turn the corner, and all the angry passengers take one glance at me and shut up, looking away guiltily. The medic and the steward and stewardesses all laugh.)

Medic: “See how the straps help?”

Steward: “See ya, Gaspy!”

Me: “Thank you, and sorry!”

(The medic continues to wheel me through the airport and starts to get irritated by the fact that no one is moving out of his way.)

Medic: “Seriously. You are strapped into a wheelchair, breathing into an oxygen tank! Move, people! Can I use you to ram into people?”

Me: “Ram away.”

(He proceeds to barge into people who don’t clear room for us, apologising with a grin after every hit. We finally get to the medical centre and they take my heart rate and blood pressure, which are so high, they keep me there to monitor them until they go back down. Finally, I am allowed to leave.)

Medic: “And here is a lollipop for being my bulldozer.”

(Best. Airport Staff. EVER.)

Judge A Sandwich On Its Filling
AWESOME, COFFEE SHOP, INSPIRATIONAL, NEW YORK, USA | RIGHT | MARCH 11, 2013
(A young girl that is about 14 years old walks in. She gets some looks from our other patrons, as she has bright purple hair, multiple piercings, a leather jacket, and ripped jeans. It is freezing outside and she has a scowl on her face that makes me nervous.)

Me: “Hello, welcome to [Coffee Shop]. How may I help you?”

Young Girl: “I’ll take five of the largest black coffees you have, and ten of your ham and cheese sandwiches.”

Me: “Okay, will that be all?”

Young Girl: “Yeah.”

Me: “Your total is [price].”

(To my surprise, she pulls out a $100 bill. I am suspicious, and I check to make sure it’s real. It checks out, and I give her a bag with her sandwiches.)

Me: “Here is your change. Your coffee will be ready in a moment.”

(I keep an eye on her as she stands around glaring at anyone who looks at her. I see her looking at the tip jar. When I hand her the coffees, she asks me about it.)

Young Girl: “Your tip jar says that the money goes to you guys. Are any of you in college?”

Me: “Yes, I’m going to Rochester Institute of Technology. A few others are in college as well.”

Young Girl: “Good for you.”

(She pulls out the change I gave her and a few more $20 dollar bills. She crams then in the jar and salutes me jokingly before walking out. I am stunned, and chase after her. I find her on the street corner talking to some homeless people and handing out the sandwiches and coffee.)

Me: “Excuse me!”

Young Girl: “I’m sorry, did I forget something?”

Me: “No, but you just tipped us over $100 dollars. You’re also giving away a lot of food.”

Young Girl: “Yeah, my dad is crazy rich. I feel like I can do more if I actually interact with people instead of signing a check to a charity. Every Friday I gather anyone I see who needs a good meal, and buy it for them.” *she smiles brightly* “I may be young, but I can make a difference. I usually hand out flyers for homeless shelters or soup kitchens, too.”

(Without another word, she walked off silently. I didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week. It goes to show you that appearances aren’t everything!)

More Than He Bargained For
EDITORS' CHOICE, MARKET, MONEY, RETAIL, STUPID | RIGHT | APRIL 27, 2009
(My father is manning tables at the local flea market. A man comes up to the table and picks out an item that’s priced at $8.)

Customer: “Will you take $6 for this?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(The man finds another item, this one priced at $5.)

Customer: “Will you take $4?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(After a while, the man finds another item, this time priced at $6.)

Customer: “$5?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(Finally, the man gathers all of his items together and winds up for the ultimate bargaining ploy.)

Customer: “How about $20 for all three?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(Dad was always an agreeable sort.)

Not All Knights Are In Shining Armor
BAD BEHAVIOR, GROCERY STORE, JERK, MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA | RIGHT | OCTOBER 15, 2012
(Two of my children suffer from a rare, genetic bone disease and they both have recently had major surgery. My 10-year-old had his hip rebuilt and is using a wheelchair, while my 13-year-old had a tumor taken out of his ankle and is using a walker. The 10 year old also uses a walker to move from his chair to the car. I am parked in a handicapped space, and am trying to get them loaded into the car. There are 6 open handicapped spaces, but this elderly man decides he needs the space directly next to my driver’s side.)

Elderly Man: *honking horn* “Get out of the way!”

Me: “I need to get the kids loaded. I’ll be out of the way shortly.”

Elderly Man: *honking even louder, scaring my 10-year-old* “Get out of the way, lady! You don’t even need this spot.”

Me: “Sir, my two disabled children do need this spot, but there are several other open spots if you’re in a hurry.”

(By this time, I have my wheelchair-using child in the car. I set his walker aside to push the chair to the back of my car and retrieve my older child’s walker from the other side of the car. Unfortunately, I am not fast enough. The elderly man honks again, then bullies his way into the spot and DRIVES OVER the walker. I am nearly in tears, and have just put my head down trying to get the wheelchair folded up and put in the trunk of my car. The elderly man gets out of his car while I have the chair half way from the ground to the trunk.)

Elderly Man: “You’re very rude! You should be ashamed of yourself! You shouldn’t even be using this spot. It’s obvious you don’t need it!”

Me: *literally slack-jawed* “I’m sorry you feel that way…”

(As the elderly man leaves, two young men who look like thugs approach me.)

Young Men: “We’ve seen everything and feel really bad for you. Can we help you get the wheelchair and walkers into your car?”

Me: *crying and trembling* “Yes…”

(Not only do the young men get the medical equipment in my car, but they get my 10-year-old laughing again with their non-stop jokes. After they finish helping me…)

Me: “Thank you! Can I do anything to repay your kindness?”

Young Men: *wave me off* “We’re just doing what decent people would do. Have a pleasant day!”

(I found out later that they’d noted the elderly man’s tag number and had gone inside to report the incident to the manager. The police were called and the elderly man was held responsible for the damage to the walker.)

In Line And Out Of Line
GROCERY STORE, INSTANT KARMA, JERK, SOUTH AFRICA | RIGHT | AUGUST 5, 2013
(I’m in line to pay. [Customer #1 ] in front of me is about in his 40s, and very well-dressed in a suit and tie. [Customer #2 ] in front of him seems to be a single mother with her child. I’m 25, and pretty shabbily dressed; wearing only faded jeans, an old, novelty Star Wars shirt, and have my long hair almost covering my eyes.)

Customer #1 : “Lady, can you hurry up! Some people are important and actually have places to be!”

([Customer #2 ] is fumbling with her money. In her cart she only has basic groceries and what appears to be a birthday cake for her child. She mumbles something about not having enough money, and decides to leave the cake behind.)

Customer #1 : “Don’t waste everyone’s time if you can’t even pay for your s***! Or maybe you need another government handout that comes from my taxes?!”

(At this point, I feel like I’ve got to step in.)

Me: “Hey, man, that’s enough!”

Customer #1 : “Who do you think you are? I’ll have you know I’m the [High Profile Position] at [Large Shipping Company], and no one ever talks to me like that.”

(Suddenly, I become much more respectful.)

Me: “I’m so sorry, sir. I had no idea you were so important. Would you mind if I asked you for your business card?”

(Customer #1 smugly hands me his card. I see he is, indeed, who he says he is.)

Me: “And here’s my business card.”

Customer #1 : “Why the h*** would I want your—”

(Customer #1 suddenly goes pale, as he notices that I am co-owner of [Large Shipping Company].)

Me: “Now that I know your name, I’ll be sure to phone your supervisor to ensure you’re put on probation. One more act like this and you’re fired.”

(Customer #1 stammered for a bit, before practically running from the store. I ended up paying for the mother’s cake, and even gave them a bit extra to buy the kid any toy from the store.)

She Has A Real Problem
GROCERY STORE | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 14, 2012
(I am at my regular grocery store at the checkout. The bagger is a sweet man with a mental disability, who is carefully bagging my items.)

Bagger: “You want this one?”

(He holds up one of my canvas bags, which I see has a hole in it.)

Me: “No, use another. Thanks.”

Woman behind me: “God! Hurry it up!”

Me: “I just finished paying. He’s fine.”

Woman behind me: “Oh, so you’re slow like him too? God all you special people need to stop interfering with normal people.”

Bagger: *looks offended* “Ma’am, she’s not not-smart. She goes to [University].” *points to my university logo on my sweatpants* “She’s real smart.”

Me: “And he’s the best bagger here! He’s very careful, ma’am, which is a good thing with groceries.”

(My bags are done. Since he knows I walk back to my dorm, the bagger just hands them to me and helps me shoulder them.)

Woman behind me: “God, he won’t even help you take them to your car? What a delinquent. I want to see a manager about this!”

Me: “I walk, lady. You want to call a manager over something I have intentionally asked him to do many times?”

Bagger: *to me* “Have a nice day!”

Woman behind me: “Retard.”

(The cashier, who hasn’t said a word through the whole thing, looks at the woman calmly.)

Cashier: “Refusal of service for massive discrimination towards a valued employee, as well as a regular customer. You may leave your items here; we’ll shelve them later. Please leave.”

(She instead decides to cause a massive disturbance, eventually breaking a shelf, and needing to be physically restrained while the bagger leads me and another customer behind the cigarette counter for our safety. We have to wait for a cop to come.)

Bagger: “Still… coming next week?” *he looks worried*

Me: “Yep.”

(His smile made me really happy for the rest of the day.)

Definitely Not In The Job Description
BIZARRE, DELIVERY, IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS, MOVIES & TV, PIZZA | RIGHT | JUNE 16, 2009
Me: “Thanks for calling [Pizza Place]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Yes, I would like…” *places order as usual*

Me: “Okay, is there anything else I can do for you?”

Caller: “Yes! When the driver arrives, could you tell him these instructions?”

Me: “Okay. I’ll be your driver, by the way.”

Caller: “All right. First, I want you to knock on the window three times, then yell like a Wookie. Then knock two more times and make alien noises.”

Me: “Alien… noises?”

Caller: “You know the ‘click’ and stuff. Like in the movie… uhh, what movie is that again?”

Me: “You mean Signs?”

Caller: “Yeah! That’s the one. Okay, so after you do that, knock three more times and then yell, ‘PLANKTON!'”

Me: “Anything else?”

Caller: “Oh yeah, do you have any lingerie?”

Me: “Not on me…”

Caller: “Oh, well, you should drive home and then find some, and wear that to the door.”

Me: “Okay, is that all, ma’am?”

Caller: “Yeah, but don’t forget the lingerie!”

(I decide to go along with the caller’s request, put on some shorts, and roll the legs up so it’s similar to a Speedo. Half an hour later, I arrive at their door. The entire party comes outside to watch my show of knocks and clicks, and then poses with me to take pictures. I got a $15 tip, too!)

Man’s Best Friend, From Beginning To End
ADORABLE CHILDREN, KIND STRANGERS, NEW MEXICO, PETS & ANIMALS, USA, VET | RIGHT | APRIL 1, 2013
(A family has just had their old golden retriever euthanized, due to a mix of a bad heart and bone cancer. The whole family is pretty despondent, but the youngest, a little boy, is taking it the worst. While the family is waiting for the paperwork to get finished, one of our regulars — a young Air Force lieutenant — walks in. He quickly notices the group, and approaches the desk.)

Lieutenant: “Did they just have to put someone down?”

(I nod. The lieutenant sits down right next to the boy, who is near tears.)

Lieutenant: “You okay, little guy?”

(The boy nods.)

Lieutenant: “Did you lose someone you care about?”

Boy: “Uh huh…”

Lieutenant: “Do you miss him?”

Boy: “Uh huh…”

Lieutenant: “Did you make every day of his life worth living?”

Boy: “Huh?”

Lieutenant: “I lost my little brother to cancer a few years back, and it tore me up. Had I done everything I could? What if I had done this or that differently? I just didn’t know, and it ate me up inside. Then they read us his will. It said, ‘I thank you, all of you, for making what borrowed time on Earth I had worth it, down to the second. That is all I could have asked for; know that should this cancer take me before I pen this will again, I loved each of you like no other family can, and going out with a smile worth smiling is the best way to go.'”

(The whole family is listening at this point, and the boy is completely enraptured. The lieutenant, lost in his recounting for a moment, looks back at the child.)

Lieutenant: “So, if you did your best — your VERY BEST — to make every day of his life worth living, I’m sure from wherever he is now, he’s looking back on your time together and smiling.”

(The boy runs out of his chair, up to the lieutenant, and gives him a hug. He lets loose all the tears he was fighting back. The father tries to remove the child from his iron-gripped hug, but the lieutenant stops him.)

Lieutenant: *to the father* “It really is no trouble at all…”

(As for the boy, he eventually he cried himself to sleep in the lieutenant’s lap.)

No One Ever Said It Would Be Boring…
BIZARRE, GROCERY STORE, HEALTH & BODY | RIGHT | APRIL 20, 2009
(This happened on my first day of the job.)

Me: “Welcome to [Grocery Store].”

Customer: “Take off your glasses.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “They’re all pink and red; I can’t see your eyes!”

Me: “That’s because they’re tinted that way for a reason. Red increases contrast, and I’m photophobic.”

Customer: “What? You’re afraid of light? D*** VAMPI–”

Me: “–NO, no, no. It just means bright light hurts my eyes.”

Customer: “All right, ring these up.”

(Looking down, I notice he has bagged peaches. A LOT of them. As it’s my first day, I have to search for the code for them, and they lack a barcode.)

Customer: “Well? They’re peaches.”

Me: “I know, let me just–”

Customer: “Peaches! Come on, they’re peaches. Just ring them up.”

Me: “Sorry, just a moment.” *grabbing phone* “What’s the code for–”

Customer: “THESE. ARE. PEACCHEESSSS!”

(He grabs one of the bags of peaches, swings it around until it TEARS open and peaches go flying everywhere, and then he runs out of the store.)

Coworker: *on the phone* “Aha, so you met the peaches guy on your first day? I remember my first time meeting him…”

Me: “…”

Santa Will Know Who’s Nicer Than Nice
RETAIL | RIGHT | DECEMBER 24, 2013
(I work in a party store. I am serving an eight-year-old customer.)

Eight-Year-Old: “Can I see your Christmas decorations? I need to get special Christmas decorations.”

Me: “Sure you can. Is there something special you want to get, little guy?”

Eight-Year-Old: “I want to get a pretty tree with ornaments, and stockings, and presents, and Christmas lights! It’s for my neighbor.”

Me: “That’s a lot to get for your neighbor, sweetheart. Why do you need all of that?”

Eight-Year-Old: “Their daddy died. They don’t have Christmas this year, so I wanted to give it to them. I even got $100 from my mom to do it.”

Me: *on the verge of tears* “That’s very generous of you. Tell you what, let’s pick out some stockings and a tree. Then I’ll talk to my manager to see what we can do about some toys. How many kids does your neighbor have?”

Eight-Year-Old: “Three. [Name] is my best friend. I’m going to give him my presents for Christmas. I asked Santa to bring him an XBox, too, but Santa might be busy. So I’m going to give him my XBox.”

Me: “I’m sure, in this case, Santa will be listening very hard.”

(I help him pick out some special decorations and a tree. I ask my manager what we can do. Apparently, the boy’s mother has told my manager about the neighbor’s husband having passed away a few weeks ago in a bad accident, leaving the wife to support their family. We do a special discount of 50% off everything. We even donate some bulk bags of toys and stockings. By this time, we’re trying not to cry. On their way out, the mother thanks us.)

Mother: “He doesn’t know it, but both he and his best friend are getting an XBox for Christmas. He’s only eight and he wanted to give them everything. He even demanded we have them over for Christmas day. He is adamant they’re going to have a Christmas, no matter what.”

Checkouts Are Places For Change
RETAIL | RIGHT | AUGUST 9, 2013
(I am standing in line around midnight. In front of me is a pregnant girl, around 20 years old. She is wearing pajamas, and clearly looking as if she has seen better days. She also has a black eye, which is a little alarming to me.)

Cashier: “Did you find everything alright?”

Pregnant Customer: “Yes, thanks. Can you see if my card has anything on it before you ring it up?”

Cashier: “No, sorry. I could ring things up one at a time and see if it’ll take for each one. If you don’t mind waiting for me to cash out the other three people in line, I’ll be more than happy to do that for you.”

Pregnant Customer: “No, no, let’s just try. I hope the deposit has hit already.”

(The cashier rings everything in, and the pregnant customer swipes the card. It declines.)

Cashier: “Do you have another form of payment?”

Pregnant Customer: “No…” *starts crying* “He must have already cancelled the card.”

Cashier: “Cancelled the card?”

Pregnant Customer: “My ex-boyfriend kicked me out tonight. He came home and said the baby couldn’t be his, hit me, and threw me out. He must have called and cancelled our food stamp card. I don’t even know where I’m going to put all this. A friend is letting me use her extra fridge until I can get an apartment.”

(One of the customers in line behind me speaks up.)

Customer Behind Me: “Ma’am, just put it on my ticket.”

(I move out of the way so the customer behind me can push his cart forward. He clearly has $200 or more worth of food on his own, and the pregnant customer has about $150.)

Cashier: “Sure.”

Pregnant Customer: “No, no I can’t.”

Customer Behind Me: “Honey, don’t lecture me. My mom was kicked out by my dad because he thought she was sleeping around on him. She worked two jobs to keep a roof over my head. I’m not letting some deadbeat a**-hole throw his girlfriend out because he has trust issues.”

Pregnant Customer: “I can’t. It’s too much. I don’t have a job; I can’t pay you back.”

Customer Behind Me: “Take my card. I’ve seen you in here a few times during regular shopping hours. You’re always very nice to the employees and everyone in line. I need a receptionist for my apartment complex on [street]. Come by tomorrow, and we’ll have an interview. I give discounts to my employees on their rent.”

(By this time, the cashier has finished ringing in the items, and they’re bagged already.)

Cashier: “Your total is $459.92.”

(The customer behind me gently pushes past the pregnant customer. He swipes his card, enters his pin, and then hugs her.)

Customer Behind Me: “Things do get better. See me tomorrow; I’m serious.”

(Sir, wherever you are… You restored some of my faith in humanity. Thank you. Ma’am, wherever you are, I hope you and your baby have a great life, and you find someone to take care of you both and love you the way you deserve. I hope you got that job, but judging from how the man was talking, I’m sure you did!)

Kids, This Is What We Call “Scapegoating”
CHILDREN, EDITORS' CHOICE, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, RETAIL | RIGHT | AUGUST 5, 2008
Kid: “Mommy, I want this candy!”

Mom: “No, you can’t have the candy. Put it back.”

Kid: “I WANT THIS CANDY!”

Mom: “You can’t have it!”

Kid: “I WANT THIS CANDY!”

(At this point, the mom takes the candy from the kid and hands it to me.)

Mom: *points at me* “The bad man took the candy! You can’t have it because the bad man took it!”

Kid: *in tears* “Why did you take the candy?!”

Me: *speechless*

Un-Four-tunate Inch-uendo
ELECTRONICS STORE, ONE-LINER, RUDE & RISQUE, SPOUSES & PARTNERS, TECHNOLOGY | RIGHT | DECEMBER 31, 2009
(I am selling a TV to a middle-aged man and his wife.)

Me: “So, it’s between the 32 and the 36 inch TV, right?”

Husband: “Yes, but I don’t understand the difference between them.”

Me: “Well, they have the same specs all the way down the line. One is just bigger.”

Husband: “Who in the h*** would pay almost $350 more for four more inches?”

Wife: “I would!”

Trial By Hire
BIZARRE, EDITORS' CHOICE, RETAIL | RIGHT | OCTOBER 14, 2009
(I’ve just been hired as a cashier and it’s my first day. Halfway through my shift, I get called to go to the manager’s office. In the office is another man.)

Manager: “Ah, there you are. Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

Me: “No problem, what’s up?”

Manager: “This here is Henry. I’d like you to help him find the items on his grocery list and help him with whatever he may need.”

Henry: “Hello.”

Me: “Hey. Well, shall we get started?”

(Henry holds up a fake mustache and begins speaking in a British accent.)

Henry: “This the best you could hire?! This place is becoming worse every week!”

Manager: *to me* “Can I talk to you outside for a second?”

Me: “Sure…”

(We go outside and my manager explains to me that when Henry holds up his mustache, he is British and his name is Hensley.)

Manager: “Just take him around and help him get his stuff.”

Me: “Will do…”

(We start off finding him tea.)

Me: “All right, our tea is right over here.”

Henry: “Let’s see… green tea… green tea… ah. Here it is!”

(The mustache goes up as he reaches for the tea.)

Hensley: “I don’t want green tea.”

(The mustache goes down.)

Henry: “Must you be so picky?!”

(The mustache goes up.)

Hensley: “It isn’t my fault you have such terrible taste!”

(The mustache goes down.)

Henry: “Fine, what kind of tea do you want?!”

(The mustache goes up.)

Hensley: “I’m not sure.”

(This goes on for a grueling, long, painful 37 items. After two hours of this and a full cart, we head for the check out.)

Henry: “Thank you so much for being so patient with us.”

Me: “Glad I could help you two out!”

(The mustache goes up.)

Hensley: “Yes, thank you ever so much for the assistance. Don’t let us hold you up, dearie. Off you go… shoo, shoo!”

Me: “All right. Take care.”

(I head to the manager’s office, where several coworkers are also waiting.)

Me: “What the h*** was that for? Some sort of hazing?”

Manager: “Nope, he comes in every four days and buys the exact same stuff. Good way to test new employees!”

(So far they’ve tried this on five other new people while I’ve worked here. They all lost their temper and were fired. Henry/Hensley asks for me every few visits and he is a regular customer of mine now. Well, a not-so-regular customer…)

Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 2
BOSSES & OWNERS, COFFEE SHOP, EDITORS' CHOICE, ENGLAND, UK | RIGHT | JANUARY 31, 2013
(I’m standing in a fairly short queue when a businessman walks in, pushes straight to the front, and starts dictating his order to the 20-something-year-old cashier.)

Cashier: “I’m afraid you’re going to have to go to the back of the queue, sir.”

Business man: “I have an important meeting shortly. You must serve me now!”

Cashier: “Yeah, the longer you stand there, the later you’re going to be. Back of the queue.”

Business man: “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Cashier: “Nope. Now shut up and go to the back of the queue.”

Business man: “How dare you talk to me like that?! Get me your manager now!”

(The cashier sighs heavily, walks into the back, comes out with an older woman in tow and nods her towards the businessman, then disappears back into the back.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Business man: “That boy was incredibly rude to me! I demand you fire him immediately!”

Manager: “I’m afraid I don’t have the authority to do that, but if you want I can get the owner for you.”

Business man: “Bah! Fine, but I expect to be compensated for having to go through all of this trouble!”

Manager: “I’m sure you can discuss that with him, sir.”

(She then walks into the back, then comes out again with the now grinning cashier.)

Cashier: “Yo.”

Business man: “What’s the meaning of this? I said I wanted to talk to the owner!”

Cashier: “Like I said, yo.”

(The businessman silently gapes for a few seconds, then walks out, stammering threats about having his head and closing the shop down.)

Manager: “Why do you always have to involve me?”

Cashier: “I just love the look on their stupid little faces when they find out I own this joint.”

(The manager rolls her eyes and walks into back.)

Cashier: “I love this job. What can I get you?”

Just Another Day In Stonerville
POLICE, PRANKS, RESTAURANT, SARCASM | RIGHT | MARCH 20, 2008
I work at a gourmet sandwich company. We can make sandwiches for delivery, pickup, or sit-down. We often get calls from a lot of stoners that want their sandwiches delivered. Probably for “munchies.” It’s about 4 pm on Saturday when I get this call.

Me: “Welcome to [sandwich shop], this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Stoner #1 : “Hey… yeah…”

Me: “How can I help you today, sir?”

Stoner #1 : “What?”

Me: “Would you like to order something?”

Stoner #1 : “Yes…”

(After about two minutes of silence…)

Me: “Hello? Are you still there, sir?”

Stoner #1 : “Yeah, I’m waiting for you to like, ask me what I want.”

Me: “…Okay, what would you like?”

Stoner #1 : *tells me his order*

Me: “Would you like anything else with that?”

Stoner #1 : “Yeah… get me a cookie.”

(At this point, I hear a plethora of other stoners in the background.)

Stoner #2 : “Cookies!? Where?”

Stoner #1 : *laughing* “Dude, I’m on the phone with the cookie company!”

(Now I can hear [Stoner #2 ] grab the phone and he begins talking to me.)

Stoner #2 : “Hey, cookie company? Make that two cookies!”

Stoner #3 : “Four cookies! I want two!”

Stoner #2 : “SIX COOKIES!”

Me *trying not to laugh* “Okay, sir, will that be all?”

Stoner #2 : “Yeahhhhhh.”

Me: “Will that be for pickup or delivery?”

Stoner #2 : “Delivery…” *gives address*

Stoner #1 : “DUDE, WHAT IF SHE’S A NARC?”

Stoner #2 : “S***! You know that address I just gave you? I lied about it!”

(Now I decide to have a little fun with them, considering they wasted my time.)

Me: “Okay, but as a little treat, I’m going to have it delivered anyway. My car will be the one with red and blue flashing lights that reads P-O-L-I-C-E on the side.”

Stoner #2 : “A car with lights? That’s awesome!”

Stoner #1 : “Dude, she means the police!”

Stoner #2 : “S***!” *click*

(We ended up delivering to them anyway because TECHNICALLY they never canceled their order. Our delivery guy came back with the full order, telling us that someone answered the door to tell him no one was home.)

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
RETAIL | RIGHT | JULY 26, 2012
(I am the only female working in the parts department in our store. Note: at my previous job, I was involved in a violent fight against a male coworker who tried to assault me. They guy ended up at the hospital and no charges were pressed against me since I acted in self-defense. This story is well known by my current coworkers and my boss and I’m teased mercilessly about being a “man-beater.” This particular day, I’m training a new guy to work on the floor and I’m also acting as the shift supervisor since the department manager is off.)

Customer: *to my coworker* “I need to find this.” *shows a trailer connector*

Coworker: “It’s my first week here and I’m not sure if we carry this. However, let me ask my coworker here; she’ll tell me if we have some.”

Customer: “Her? How can she know something about trailers? She’s a girl. Girls don’t know s*** about trailers!”

Coworker: “Let me assure you, sir, she is the most knowledgeable employee we have here.”

Customer: “Well, if she think she can do a man’s job, let’s ask her.”

(I take a look at his connector.)

Me: “I’m sorry sir, but we do not carry this kind of connector. I could order some, but it will take over two weeks before they come in. May I suggest you go over [trailer store] or [another trailer store]? Both are down the road. They are more specialized than us, and they’ll probably have one in stock.”

Customer: *to my coworker* “I told you she’ll be useless.”

Coworker: “Sir, I don’t know what she can tell you more. We don’t keep that kind of stuff in stock, and she suggested two other other store where they sell those kind of products. I think you’ve gotten all the help you need.”

Customer: *suddenly starts screaming* “Why do you refuse to serve me?! I AM A MAN! I AM A CUSTOMER! I deserve RESPECT and OBEDIENCE! Now you will tell me where the f*** you keep those f***ing connectors!”

Me: “Sir, I already told you; we do not carry them. Those other stores will happily sell one to you, but I can’t because I don’t have any on hand.”

Customer: “You useless b****! Find me a manager with something between his legs so we can discuss man things between men!”

Me: “I am the shift supervisor today, so you’ll have to deal with me. I’ll need you to remain polite or you’ll have to leave.”

Customer: “Well, I will just stay behind you and get on your nerves! You’ll crack and resign from your job and find yourself a man that will teach you what is it to be a good woman! You’ll find a guy who will beat you into a submissive b****, like any good woman should be!”

(I send my coworker, who is on the verge of tears, to call the store manager so we can remove the customer from the store.)

Me: “Okay, sir, the store manager is on his way. I need to ask you to leave the property.”

(At this point my coworker returns, saying the store manager has called the police and is coming as fast as he can. Meanwhile, the customer starts acting very aggressively toward me; he tries to push me and effectively prevents me from going anywhere. He then turns his attention on my coworker, who doesn’t want to leave me alone with this freak. I’m really fearing for our safety, so I drop down and catch the longest, heaviest draw bar I can find. I smile at my coworker and put on the best “death stare” I can do towards the customer.)

Customer: *suddenly scared* “…What are you doing? Stop that! You’re scaring me, b****!”

Me: *grinning but saying nothing*

Customer: “What are you doing with the bar? Put it down! I am a man… I am the customer… I demand obedience and respect!” *to my coworker* “What the f*** is she doing?! Tell her to stop looking at me like that. She gives me the creeps!”

Coworker: “I don’t know sir, but around here, she’s known as a ‘man-beater.’ That’s because she sent a man to the hospital… a man that was trying to assault her at her previous job.”

Customer: “How could they let a crazy woman like this work in a store and deal with customers?!”

Coworker: “Well, she’s pretty handy for customers like you.”

Customer: *very frightened* “Um, I’ll just go now, okay? I’ll go to those other stores and see if they have any in stock.”

(As the customer turns around and starts walking out, he walks directly into the store manager, who is a very tall and broad-shouldered guy.)

Customer: *to store manager* “Your employees are crazy! Women shouldn’t beat men! It’s the other way around! You should break her and make her obedient and submissive, like any good woman!”

Store Manager: “Get out of my store now, or I’ll lock you in my office with her!”

(The customer starts heading towards the exit, but runs straight into two police officers who have just arrived.)

Customer: *to the police officers* “You gotta protect me! She’s crazy! She’s a man-beater!”

Police Officer #1 : *sarcastically* “Get into our car. You’ll be safe there.”

(The customer was arrested then and there, which was a good thing: it turned out he was wanted for multiple cases of domestic violence. After his arrest, several ex-girlfriends came out and testified against him, putting him away for good.)