My store is close to a halfway house, and some people come through looking to get new phones activated and other necessities when they get to the house. There was one really nice guy who had been locked up for about twenty years and was trying to make his way back into society and figure out all the technology that he had missed.

He was a really chill and nice guy, so after I sold and activated the phone for him, I showed him how to use it fully — how to turn it on and off, call, text, etc.. He would come back specifically for me and ask a number of very basic questions about his phone (and his eventual smartphone), smart TVs, and anything else he’d buy as he got used to life on the outside.

One day, he came in to buy a laptop and a headset. When I asked what it was for, he told me he was moving in with his sister and her kid down in LA. They were teaching him how to play World Of Warcraft, and he wanted to have his own computer and join them on Discord to play. He had come to me for help with it.

I made sure he had it set up, the game installed, and Discord joined. I even gave him advice about character creation and helped him through the introductory parts of the game during my lunch break. Every piece of advice came with a “Wow, that’s amazing!” or “I wish I’d had this when I was a kid; things might have been different!” 

That was the last time I saw him, and I think back occasionally, hoping he is living his best life out there.

Our fast food place is open twenty-four-seven, but only the drive-thru is open at night due to some logistical complications with our location. A man walks up to the drive-thru with no car in sight. He shouldn’t have even been able to get to the window without a car, but I don’t have time to wonder about that as he’s already ordering.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you order at the drive-thru unless you’re in a car.”

Customer: *Starts making engine revving noises* “There, I identify as a car. This is what you woke hippies like, right? I identify as a car, and if you don’t serve me, you’re oppressing me.”

Me: “Moo. I identify as a cow. Therefore, I can’t serve you. Moo.”

Customer: “But I just—” 

Me: *Deadpan* “Moo.” 

Customer: “You total—”

Me: *Deadpan* “Moo.” 

Customer: “Get your manager!” 

My manager walks over.

Customer: “You worker here is being difficult when I just want a quick burger!” 

Manager: “Quack.” 

Customer: “F*** all y’all!” *Storms off*

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I work in an office, and I’m training a new guy in his first couple of weeks on his job. It’s gone well so far. He listens to instructions, asks questions when he doesn’t understand something or needs clarifications, and is slowly but surely working his way up to being a decent worker.

One day, I’m in the breakroom for lunch with some nachos and a separate little dish for the salsa. I am eating and looking at my phone when [New Guy] comes in and, apparently — I’m not aware of him looking at me at first — watches as I dip a chip, take a bite, and then dip the same chip again.

New Guy: “Ew, did you just double-dip?”

I look up and blink at him.

Me: “Uh, yes? I’m the only one eating these.”

He crosses his arms like a child.

New Guy: “Well, what if I wanted some?”

Me: *Staring at him* “…First of all, you ask. Like an adult would do.”

New Guy: *Puffing up* “Well, I’m not going to ask now. You double-dipped.”

Me: “The answer would have been no anyway; they’re my lunch, and I wasn’t planning on sharing. You’re not entitled to a chip.”

New Guy: *Suddenly shouting* “Well, why not?! Would it have killed you to be nice?! My mother always shared her lunch with me when I came to her office! Why can’t you?! I just want some stupid chips!”

I just keep staring at this point, confused and a bit insulted by this guy’s entitlement that, from my perspective, has come literally out of nowhere. My lack of response just seems to make him even angrier, as he storms out of the room, kicking the table on the way out and almost sending my nachos to the floor, but I catch them and the salsa before they make a mess. I turn to look at the door, hearing his stomping footsteps as they retreat down the hall, and I catch the eyes of another coworker who poked her head into the room after hearing the commotion.

I can only shrug when she asks what happened, explaining that I just said I wasn’t going to share my lunch with him.

Coworker: “I think he’s heading for [Boss]’s office.”

Me: “Okay, well, let’s see how that goes for him.”

I go back to my nachos.

About ten minutes after the end of my lunch break, I’m called into [Boss]’s office. [New Guy] is nowhere to be seen, and when I enter the room, [Boss] just looks tired. He motions for me to sit.

Boss: “Just so you know, you’re not in trouble. I sent [New Guy] home because he cursed at me, but please, give me your side of the story.”

Me: “Not much to tell. I basically told him I wasn’t going to share my nachos with him and… he freaked out.”

Boss: *Nods* “Yep, that’s what he told me, too. He used more… colorful language… including a slur I won’t be repeating.”

Me: *Blinks* “Like what? Something racist?”

Boss: “No, it was more that he insinuated that you were a trans person, and he used the… insulting term.”

Me: “Because I wouldn’t offer him some of my nachos?”

Boss: *Shrugs helplessly* “I’ve already started the paperwork to terminate his employment here. I don’t care how good a worker he’d have ended up being; that behavior was unacceptable. The fact that it was over some nachos is just the cherry on top.”

Me: “Is it bad that I’m kinda happy that he exposed that side of himself early before it was a future problem?”

Boss: “No, I was going to say the same thing; The termination paperwork is easier if it’s still the probationary period. You can head back to work now. Go ahead and take a bit of extra time for a break if you need it.”

Me: “Nah, he didn’t really upset me that much. I was just confused.”

[Boss] and I shared a chuckle before I headed back to work.

The next day, I heard from [Boss] that [New Guy] sent an email as soon as he got home saying, among other things, that he quit. [Boss] gave me the cliff notes that, basically, [New Guy] apparently didn’t think he’d done anything wrong and didn’t understand how I was so selfish when I had “so many” chips and “wouldn’t miss one”. The cherry on top of the letter, [Boss] said while laughing, was that he ended the whole rant with, “And I hope [My Name] never gets to share her lunch with anyone, because apparently she’s entitled to every bite.”

[Boss] offered to print it out and laminate it for me, but I declined; I’m content with having my own nachos and eating them, too.

Our store has a policy telling everyone who comes in half an hour before closing how much time is left. We send out multiple pages every five minutes, but we aren’t allowed to close the doors prior to closing time or kick people out.

It’s been slow toward the end of the night as a major storm is rolling in and is supposed to hit around closing time. This lady walks in with three minutes to spare.

Shift Lead: “Hi, ma’am. Just so you’re aware, we close in three minutes.”

Customer: “I know exactly what I’m looking for; I’ll only be a moment.”

To give her credit, she does walk directly over to the scrapbooking aisle and start picking things up right away. She grabs several scrapbooking kits (the boxes with everything you need for an event or theme) and sets them down on the floor at the end of the aisle.

Shift Lead: “Is there anything we can help you find? Are looking for something particular?”

Customer: “No.”

Shift Lead: “Can we carry these up front for you?”

Customer: “No. I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

She gathered about eighteen of these kits and proceeded to sit in the middle of the main aisle with them spread out in a semi-circle around her as she read the details on the back and inspected each one closer.

We didn’t get to leave before the storm hit, and the shift lead had to explain to the manager why we closed almost an HOUR late.

I work at a pet store that does boarding, too. My family is going on vacation and boarding the family dogs. I get a call from my mom saying they aren’t letting Riley stay. I’m very confused, because I double-checked that they had all their shots and paperwork in order. I go over and ask what the problem is.

Front Desk Agent: “That’s a pit bull mix! You know we don’t board pit bulls! [My Name], you know better, and I’ve already called a manager over because your mother is arguing with me.”

Me: “Okay.”

I wait for the manager.

Manager: “What’s the problem?”

Front Desk Agent: “They’re trying to board a pit bull mix!”

Manager: “Are you talking about the lab?”

I pull out Riley’s six-generation AKC pedigree from his paperwork folder.

Me: “A pure-bred liver-nosed yellow English (show) Labrador retriever.”

Mom: “That’s what I kept telling her!”

[Front Desk Agent] had never seen an English (show) lab. They are tanks with bowling ball heads. She got taken off the desk for a while, my mom got a discounted stay, and apparently, Riley got to meet everyone so they could spot a pure-bred Labrador.