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.

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.

It is Sunday, about twenty minutes before closing. A woman comes rushing in, looking a bit frantic, and beelines straight toward me.

Customer: “I need [list of items we have either run out of or have in low supply].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I think we only have about two of those items still in stock.”

Customer: “What?! But my kid needs it for his project at school tomorrow! Why are you sold out?!”

Me: “Because two hundred other kids from the same school are doing the exact same project.”

Customer: “But… why?! You should have more, then! Go check the back, you lazy bum!”

Me: “We don’t have any more, ma’am. I know because based on conversations with multiple parents, this particular project was assigned three weeks ago, and we assumed that, since the completed project itself is due tomorrow, any parent who would need these supplies would have purchased them ages ago so their kid would have time to make the project.”

Customer: “Are you implying I’m a bad parent?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I’m saying your child either told you late or you forgot until now, but either way, you’re taking that out on me. We do not have what you’re looking for, and we close soon. I wish you the best of luck!”

Customer: *Sarcastically* “Do you really?”

Me: “No… not really. Goodnight!”

This story is from twenty years ago, at a time when mobile phones could be used only for telephone, texting, and playing “Snake” — no Internet, GPS, or other fancy things.

I had this friend who lived on “Pablo Neruda Street” — in a city that also had a “Pablo Picasso Street”. Every single time he tried to order food for delivery, he explicitly had to say: 

Friend: “Deliver to Pablo Neruda Street — Neruda, not Pablo Picasso.”

And despite this, the delivery guy would always call him back, saying: 

Delivery Guy: “I’m on Picasso Street…”

Well, except once. The one time the delivery guy got the correct street name… he got the city wrong.

We close the tills at least ten minutes late every day because people don’t respect closing times and the fact that we employees also want to go home. In my mind, at closing time, as a customer, you should already have checked out and be out the door. I guess our customers don’t feel the same way.

A customer shows up after both the doors and tills have closed.

Customer: *Begging* “Please let me in! I just need baby formula! My baby is starving!”

Manager: “The store and tills are closed, but I can go get some formula for you myself and you can pay at the customer service station by the exit. I can meet you outside with the card reader.”

Customer: *Still begging* “No, please, just let me in! I’ll be quick.”

Manager: “Tell me what formula you need, and I’ll meet you at the exit in less than a minute.”

Customer: *Suddenly less desperate* “So, you’re not letting me in?”

Manager: “Not tonight, no.”

Customer: “F*** you.” *Storms off*

Huh, I guess she didn’t need formula so urgently after all…