(I work in a large retail chain store. Head office has sent us booklets on loss prevention, and every employee is required to read the whole thing and sign off on it.)

Me: “Wow, can we really do that?”

Manager: “Do what?”

(I point to a section of the booklet that explains we can place shoplifters under citizen’s arrest.)

Manager: “No. You don’t do that here.”

Me: “But these directions came from head office.”

Manager: *laughs* “Oh, [my name], you slay me. Those morons never know what they want! If you actually tried to arrest a shoplifter, we would get in all sorts of trouble.”

Me: “You mean in case the shoplifter tries to sue us?”

Manager: “I’m not too worried about that, actually. I’m more worried about the head office guys chewing us out for ‘poor’ customer service.”

Me: “So, we were given directions that were important enough to require signing off on, but we CAN’T follow them.”

Manager: “Correct.”

Me: “And the geniuses who came up with this nonsense earn way more than our salaries combined?”

Manager: “Also correct.”

Me: “I suppose they’re also more educated than I am?”

Manager: “Intelligence and education are two very different things.”

(A large order has come up at our restaurant, so I say the number over the speaker.)

Me: “Number 64. Number 64.”

(A minute passes and no one responds. Sometimes the customers miss the call, or the loud speaker garbles the audio, so I try again.)

Me: “Number 64. Number 64.”

(This goes on for about 15 minutes. Other orders come and go, and I’m getting annoyed because this order is taking up a lot of space under the heat lamp. I decide to have a little fun.)

Me: *monotone* “Number 64? 64? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?”

(By this point the people in the dining area start laughing, but it seems to work. The customer with the order finally came up.)

Customer: “Sorry, I got caught up in a conversation.”

Coworker: *to me* “Having fun?”

Me: “I always wanted to say that!”

(My mom and I have just ordered some sandwiches to go. Note: this restaurant has a well-known jingle that lists all the ingredients in said sandwich.)

Me: “Uh… Mom? We need to go back.”

Mom: “Why? You got your food, right?”

Me: “Well, yes, but they forgot something important.”

Mom: “What?”

Me: *sings the jingle* “What’s the first ingredient listed?”

Mom: “Meat.”

Me: “Yeah… they didn’t put that in.”

(We drive back, and walk inside to ask for a manager.)

Employee #1: “What’s the problem?”

Me: “There was a mistake with my sandwich. I’d like a replacement, and my money back, since I had to drive all the way back.”

Employee #1: “You ordered [sandwich name] and you got [sandwich name], so what’s wrong with it?”

Me: “What’s the first ingredient in the jingle about the sandwich?”

Employee #1: “Jingle? What jingle?”

Me: *sings the jingle*

Employee #1: “Huh. Never heard it before. So, what’s wrong with your sandwich?”

Me: “It’s missing the meat.”

Employee #1: “…And?”

Me: “And I’d like to talk to a manager, get a new sandwich and my money back since I had to drive all the way back here.”

(The employee shrugs, and despite looking confused as to why I want a new sandwich, fetches his manager.)

Manager: “What’s the problem, miss?”

Me: “I ordered this sandwich, and there’s no meat.”

(The manager looks at the packaging then opens the sandwich.)

Manager: “What the?! I’ll get you a new one, and your money back.” *to the line cooks* “How on earth did you manage to make a [sandwich name] without the meat? THE INGREDIENTS ARE LISTED ON THE BOX JUST LIKE THE JINGLE!”

All of the employees: “What jingle? ”

Me: *sings the jingle again*

Manager: “SEE? She knows it!”

Employee #1: “Never heard it before. Who wrote that?”

(Both the manager and me say the name of the restaurant at the same time.)

Employee #1: “You sure? Never heard it. Here’s your food, ma’am.”

Mom: “I knew this place is going downhill in quality, but you’d think that they’d, you know, at least have heard their own commercials.”

Me: “Come on, let’s just go…”

(I’ve played it safe since then, and stuck with chicken nuggets!)

(My family is not quite at the poverty line but as close as you can get without being able to qualify for any financial help. As such, we keep money tight, and I buy almost all my clothes from a nearby thrift shop. Note: Macklemore’s “Thrift Shop” song has recently come out.)

Me: “Excuse me, but where are the women’s shirts? I think they got moved.”

Cashier: “Look kid, you’re not going to be popular for wearing s*** from a thrift shop. You just look homeless. Go back to [expensive store].”

Me: “No, I come here all the time. I can’t afford [expensive store], and never have. Where are the women’s shirts?”

Cashier: “Kid, I have never seen you before. Just look up on your fancy little iPhone sixty-whatever and find the nearest [expensive store].”

Me: “You’re assuming I have an iPhone?”

Cashier: “Fine, off-brand or maybe 4, whatever. Just stop pretending that you’re gonna be cool for wearing old clothes.”

Me: “Get me your manager.”

Cashier: “Pfft, why should I? So you can make some sob story and get cheap-a** clothes for free so you can still buy your [expensive store] brand shoes?”

Me: “Manager. Now.”

(Reluctantly, the cashier gets the manager.)

Manager: “What’s the problem, [cashier]? Oh, [my name], nice to see you.”

Me: “I asked where the women’s shirts got moved to and [cashier] just told me off, rudely, to go to [expensive store] because I’m not going to be cool in thrift shop clothes.”

Cashier: “It’s true though! That “Thrift Shop” song is total BS. All we ever get now are teens buying clothes to look cool, and it doesn’t work!”

Manager: “[Cashier], this is [my name], and her family comes here all the time. It’s the only clothes they can afford. Sometimes they can’t even afford it. She doesn’t care about being cool. I don’t think she’s ever even *been* in [expensive store]. Go in back and wait for me.”

Cashier: *leaves*

Manager: “This is the third time this week I’ve gotten a complaint about him. The women’s shirts are over in the corner that way…”

(When I came back next week for shoes for my brother, the cashier had been fired.)

(I am 19 and have been in and out of the hospital for over three months. I’ve suffered two strokes and a seizure and have had to relearn how to walk. I also can not eat or drink because I’ve developed a problem with my intestines. At the same time, my brother is graduating from the Marines, so I insist to my parents that they leave to attend. My parents still stay with me to make sure I make it out of surgery alright, and then leave. A few days later, a nurse comes in.)

Nurse “I can’t believe with as sick as you are your family just leaves you here. You’re a little girl!”

Me “Ma’am, I’m 19. I am fine. it was my choice.”

Nurse “No, it is not okay. Your family should be staying here with you. I should call protective services. I can’t believe they would just abandon you when you needed it most!”

(Note: this is the last straw for me, because I’ve been in pain all day due to a combination of physical therapy and another rude nurse.)

Me “Look, lady: you don’t know S*** about my family. My mom has slept with me almost every day she could in a cot in this d*** hospital, and my stepdad has been taking me to physical therapy. They have also made sure to give my best friend a place to stay while they’re gone and a way to get here every day to hang out with me so I’m not lonely. I am the one who told them to leave and see my brother graduate because i couldn’t. I am so proud of them for leaving to see their only son do something great. You don’t know me and you don’t know S*** about my family, so back the F*** off before I report you for B******g about my family when you know nothing about what is going on in my life and not doing your D*** job! GET OUT!”

(After this, she just stares at me and turns to leave, but not before muttering the following…)

Nurse “Still isn’t right… little child alone…”

(I tell the nursing supervisor about this incident. The nurse was fired later that week because of this and other behavior issues.)