I had been shopping in a local supermarket, in my wheelchair, accompanied by my assistance dog. Just as we were leaving the till, some idiot (who was more concerned with their mobile phone than their direction of travel) cut in front of me and stopped, leaving me no choice but to sharply cut my chair to the right to avoid hitting said moron.

Accordingly, my dog had to jump out of the way. She is trained to do this, and my command “Move!” helped her anticipate that my chair was coming her way. My chair made no contact with either idiot or my dog; she was fine, I rewarded her with praise, and we started through the queue out of the shop. It’s not the first time we have had to avoid such clueless obstacles.

This is when “Mr. Kindness” started to loudly berate me for “abusing” my dog by “running over her”… saying I hurt her, and that she was “clearly” in distress. I tried to just ignore him, but he was yelling, loudly, that “people like you” shouldn’t have animals, shouldn’t bring them into stores, should realise that it’s cruelty to make them work, etc. He was yelling to other people “That woman is a dog-beater!” … My dog was there with her ears up, tail wagging, happily following right beside my chair and clearly oblivious to whatever great harm Mr. Kindness was protesting had befallen her.

Mr Kindness pushed past people to get to me, and shoved me… my dog, who is as placid as can be, put herself between me and him- she would not ever be aggressive, but she does (without being trained to do so) decide that she should be between someone she thinks will harm me, and me. He took a step back, giving me room to get past… I tried to just get out of the store and to the car, and he just kept yelling evil things. Thankfully security stopped him from following me out to the car. I felt frightened, and humiliated.

I get that some people don’t understand what assistance dogs do, or how well they are treated, or how much they love their work, or especially in what exceptional regard they are held by their handlers. What I don’t understand is how someone can justify being so unkind and cruel to someone about whom they know nothing but assumptions. How somehow my dog needing to move out of the way (as she is trained to do, and did impeccably) because some idiot wasn’t paying attention was worse than screaming at and harassing another human being. Being disabled, I should be used to it I guess but that doesn’t make it easier.

Edit- added doggo photos

It was Christmas, I was all done Christmas shopping or so I thought. I had to get one or two more items. I also had my granddaughter Ladybug (her play name) and had to take her with me. The only place I knew would be open at that time was Walmart, my least favorite place to be, at any time of the day.

We got there, of course, it was packed with last-minute shoppers. I got what we went to get and headed to the checkout line. As soon as we got there, the line started to get longer and longer; right at that time, Ladybug announced she had to pee. There was a lady in front of us with a ton of things. She was just about to start unloading when I asked her, “Can we ahead of you please? My granddaughter has to pee.” Ladybug started to do the “I need to pee dance”. The lady looked at Ladybug up and down and looked back at me and said as loud as she could, "So it's now my fault your little mixed breed can't hold her pee"? Ladybug started crying. I don't know what got into me, maybe I was tired from all the cooking and cleaning for the holiday, but next thing I knew I was throwing her stuff off her cart to the floor, tilt the cart over. I didn't even realize I was also breaking things. Ladybug stops crying in shock. I just took her hand and dropped what I went there for and took my baby to the restroom.

When we got out of the restroom, one of the managers was waiting for us. She handed me my things and told me to go to the customer service center and they will check me out. I did and we left. I felt bad about my behaviors, bringing myself to her level. I felt bad that Ladybug had to hear someone calling her a mixed breed or seeing her Nana having a meltdown. Of course, as soon as we got back in the car, Ladybug wanted to know what is a mixed breed? I told her it was someone has more than one race or nationality, I explained to her that her mommy was from one race and daddy was from another race. For some reason, the little lady was happy about it and couldn't wait to tell her cousins. These pictures are of my sweet little Ladybug.

The first picture is around the age when this happened, the second is what my princess looks like now. I am truly in love with all of her races and nationalities.

I, a white woman, was living in South Florida in the early 90s. I had finished our grocery shopping and was in the line to checkout. My beautiful toddler daughter (child of color, adopted as a baby) was playing with my keys in the cart seat. Two older Jewish women stepped up behind me and were making nasty comments a little louder than a whisper so that I would hear. I turned with a scowl to see who they were and one of them said, “I sure hope that n….r kid is adopted.” In my strongest unwavering voice I said loudly, “She is my daughter. The rest is none of your business.” That beautiful daughter is now 38 and I am 65. She grew to be a beautiful woman, inside and out, and I am still her proud mother.

I have a different perspective on this issue. I am 6′4″, 300+, was a bodybuilder when I was a younger man. Now I am old and fat, but am still huge. I have NEVER had a problem with anyone EVER being rude to me, and what is hilarious is that I have zero fighting skills, but, OTOH, I am also polite and let people with only a couple items go ahead of me. On several occasions, I have witnessed people putting items to the side because they didn’t have the money, I like to tell them to take the items, I will take care of it. One night I actually ran a giant package of TP out to a woman who had put it off to the side, I am surprised she didn’t scream when I was running up to her car, I look scarier than I think I do, maybe it was because muggers don’t carry around big packs of toilet paper….unless they have Crohn’s….

My story is a little bit opposite. Hope you don’t mind.

I was in line at our neighborhood Kroger. Looooong line. Dinner time. I was next up. An elderly Black man, holding two items, was behind me, looking around.

I said, “You only have two things. Get in front of me.”

We both sneaked a look at the people behind me. They didn’t seem to mind. He thanked me and stepped in front of me.

As the cashier rang up his two items, she turned out the light and said to the rest of us, “I have to go on break. This aisle is closed now!”

The gentleman I let in line ahead of me stepped up and said, “No, you have to take this lady behind me! She let me in ahead of her to be nice!”

The cashier wasn’t sure.

“You gotta take her,” he insisted. “It’s only right.“

The cashier, who was not such a bad person, said, “Okay. If we can do it in five minutes. Or I will be in trouble!”

We did it in five minutes. I thanked my hero profusely. The other three lines next to us were endless. We did each other a decent turn. I love humanity sometimes!

I was three years old when we left Vietnam, so I pretty much grew up in the US. I was not your typical tiny, skinny, Vietnamese girl. After 5th grade or so I struggled with my weight; when you're Vietnamese, being fat was frowned upon.

I was maybe 12 or 13 and was in line with my mom at this little Vietnamese sandwich shop. As I stood there with her, this man at a table looked me up and down and said, “You know, if you lost some weight, maybe you'd have a boyfriend.”

I looked at him and replied, “I don't know you and you don't know me. How do you know if I have a boyfriend or not? If you don't like what you are looking at then turn away and don't look at me.”

My mom's friend was in shock so she told my mom, “Wow, you let your daughter be disrespectful to her elders? She should learn some manners.”

My mom knew I was gonna rip into that woman next, so she pulled my arm to hush me and then told the woman, “Well, he doesn't know her so that's his fault for saying what he said. He's lucky she didn't go over there and punch him in his mouth.”

The woman's jaw dropped and we left.

EDIT- This is my first time posting so thank you so very much for the upvotes as well as the positive feedback. Someone expressed interest about my first time going back to Vietnam after leaving at the age of 3 in 1975. I found a spot to tell it..My story will be posted in “What is the most hurtful thing you have ever experienced?”

Again…thank you. 🤗

I was inline at the express checkout, 12 items or less, I had 7 items, while in the line, I saw a retro brand of chocolate bar, limited time only, from my childhood. I bought 5 to take me to my limit. While I was checking out, the cashier looked at the chocolate bars, and says these are on sale, buy two, and get the third for free. So far I had 4 at the regular price, and 1 free one. The cashier told me that I could take one more and it would be free. So I asked the person right behind me, if they could grab me a chocolate bar. They exploded, and said i I was over my limit, and she was in a hurry. So I reached by the person crowding up behind me, to get the free chocolate bar. The cashier scanned them all, gave me my receipt for paying for 11 items, and I turned around and gave the free chocolate bar to the person behind me. I said “Sorry, this is to compensate you, for your inconvenience”

I turned and walked out, the lady behind me sputtered, the cashier said, hey you have 13 items, to the lady behind me, she said , “But its his free chocolate bar”

The cashier said “That didn't seem to matter a minute ago”

While in line at my local, I don’t want to say the name of the store, let’s just say it rhymes with “BALDI”. So I’m in the checkout line and I recognized the guy in front of me. We hadn’t seen each other in 15–20 years.

We’re shooting the sh!t , and catching up and he asks “Did you just come back from vacation?”. I said “No. Why?”. He says “You look pretty tan”. I say “I’ve been doing a lot of landscaping and yard work. It must be my inner Puerto Rican coming out.” . Then from behind me, I hear “That offensive”.

Here’s how the conversation went between me and a person, who looks like a woman, but I don’t want to offend her because I don’t know what she “identifies as”. I’ll refer to her as “It”:

Me: Excuse me?
It: What you said. That’s offensive and racist.
Me: What did I say?
It: What you said makes it sound like you think the only job Puerto Ricans can do is landscaping or yardwork. That’s racist and offensive.
Me: No, what I said, and what the two people IN the conversation understood was, my tan is coming out because I’M HALF PUERTO RICAN! (and Filipino). You’re the one who made it racist!
It: EXCUSE ME??? (kind of sarcastic and a little nervous)
Me: You made it about race. The first thought in your mind about what you didn’t understand was, “Puerto Ricans only do yard work or landscaping”. That’s your racist thought!
It: only staring at me now
Me: You know what? You’d have a lot better day, if you stopped walking around looking for shit to get offended by!!!
It: steps out of line and moves to another line

It’s dead quiet for about 4 or 5 seconds within about twenty feet of me. I turn back to my friend and he says “Man, you haven’t changed at all”, and we laugh!

An older woman (mid to late 70’s) who was behind “IT”, steps up to me and, I said “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to use that kind of language in front of you”. She says “It’s okay young man (I’m 50). You handled that very well”. I said “Thanks”

It’s too bad I was so shocked in the moment. Because after it was over and done, that’s when I thought of the things I could’ve said. Like this:
“You know what I find offensive? Someone in their mid-twenties who probably has a college degree but is too lazy to get a job”
“Do you know what offends me? Having to see your dirty feet in those fugly Birkenstock sandals, while I’m grocery shopping. While picking out lettuce, no one wants to see feet that looked like they just stomped out a campfire in Kalifornia and then walked to Connecticut!”
“Do you know what offends me? Entitled little white female millennials with blonde dreadlocks, who walk around unbathed with some B.O. , who are just looking for things to be offended by!”

Anyway, sorry for the last little rant…I’m sure I’ll catch some hate for this.

I was standing in line with my daughter who was about 14 months at the time.

She was teething and had just got a fever while we were in the grocery store so as you can imagine she was not a happy camper.

We obviously had to cut our trip short so we proceeded to the checkout line to pay.

As we were waiting to have our groceries rung up two older women got in line behind us.

I could hear one of the women say to her friend;

“Why would they bring her out like this?”

Her friend said “Yeah, some people shouldn't be parents.”

I turned around and said very calmly “Excuse me.”

The one old biddy said sarcastically “I was just commenting on your wonderful parenting skills.”

Wow…

The thoughts that flashed through my head were not very pleasant, but I knew I needed to get out of there and it was not worth causing a scene..

So I calmly replied,

“As you, yourself are demonstrating what a good person you are.”

She smirked at my response as I turned around and waited to get checked out. Fortunately, the young man in front of me overheard the encounter and offered to let me pass. This was great because he had a shopping cart full of product.

I went past him and paid for my groceries. The two women behind him had assumed that the gentleman would allow them to pass as well since they only had three things.

So as they were making their way past him he told them that they would need to wait their turn “because that is what good people do”.

If my daughter had not been feeling so miserable I would have smiled all the way to my car.

That I should go back to my own damned country. I’m American, I was born in Texas, raised in Iowa. When I get a tan I turn into a deep olive toned American.

My daughter, kindergarten at the time, and I were at the store and it was a long line so we were passing the time working on her colors and some simple words, in Spanish.

A woman behind me clearly did not appreciate my efforts in raising a bilingual child and went about getting huffier and huffier that I was teaching her bad habits and that this is America and she should speak American. Generally, I agree with her, this is America and speaking the language is rather important, however I also feel that there is no harm in knowing a second language and since I only speak the two (American and Spanish; I hate calling it English for some reason, I don’t know why because technically anyone one north, central or south America is American if you think about it, we should be called United Stateseans or something like that…) anywhoo….

So, yes, this woman yelled at me for teaching my five year old daughter how to speak Spanish…

I went on to have a conversation with the cashier (that I knew personally) about the woman in ASL. That really pissed her off. She knew we were talking about her.

I was in line one day and I only had one item.

The lady behind me said “I need to go in front of you.” This lady had about two hundred bucks worth of groceries, so I said “Why,” with a chuckle “you're buying out half the store.”

She said exactly that's why, “I'm spending more money than you.”

I told her that I don't give a rat's behind - I was here first. I got to tell ya she blew her last fuse. This woman said that she was a very important person and she had things to do. I said, “Well me too. When I leave here I’m going to the hospital to perform a triple heart bypass.”

She shut up then. After I check out I went home and had a big bowl of ice cream.

Thanks for the question Stan.

My daughters are tall. 6 feet tall. They were born tall, almost 2 feet. They were always tall. One day when the oldest was 3 we were waiting in line when the woman behind me went off on a tirade about us. Basically it was if your kid is too sick to go to school she is too sick to be out shopping The lady was very loud and wanted to be put first in line so she didn’t get sick. My child did not look remotely sick.

I calmly asked my child “ How old are you?” She happily replied “I’m free “ and held up three little fingers. There was a lot of laughter in the line. The lady left her cart and left the store.

It was the day before Thanksgiving. The grocery store was a mad house. I had grabbed some rolls and butter, and a few other things I had forgotten. I went to the self checkout line, as I only had a few items. The line probably had 10–12 people ahead of me. It was moving reasonably fast, all things considered. The lady in front of me was obviously frazzled and eager to rush home. When she finally got checked out, she grabbed her receipt and bags and ran towards the exit - leaving her purse behind on the checkout station. I quickly grabbed the purse, laid my items down and ran after her. I finally caught her in the parking lot and she was so thankful she started crying. I ran back inside to find everyone else in line just as shocked as I was, most people said things like, “that was very nice of you!”, or “I hope there’s someone like you around if I ever forgot my purse!”. I would do it again in a heart beat. One old hag towards the back piped up, “If that dumb b#$ch can’t remember her purse, why should we all have to suffer and wait?!, I would’ve taken it!” Keep in mind, from the time I ran out after her to the time I got back must have been less than two minutes. I was appalled and didn’t know how to respond. Maybe I was just raised differently.

I was in Target on a Sunday afternoon with my 7-year-old and 2-year-old sons. My toddler was riding in the cart and my 7-year-old was walking with me. He had had a great week at school and received an award in his STEM class. He asked me for a $7 dinosaur, so I said yes.

We walked on and he asked me for something else. I told him no. He told me he didn’t like me. I told him to put the $7 dinosaur back, that I wasn’t going to buy a toy for a little boy who didn’t like me.

He FREAKED out. He was screaming and crying like a crazy person. I calmly walked to the checkout with him acting as my personal siren through the store. He kept screaming: IF YOU BUY ME THE DINOSAUR I’LL STOP SCREAMING.

Uhhh…no. Life doesn’t work that way. I wasn’t about to give in to him and reward him for being rude to me or for having a tantrum.

There was an older lady in front of us in line. She proceeded to put her hands over her ears in a very dramatic fashion. She then looked at me and said: “People like you don’t deserve to have children.”

Wait…what? I just looked at her, smiled, and said: “I have two more at home.”

If I’m a bad mom for having a kid melt down in Target, or not giving in to tantrums, then so be it.

Many years ago, I was standing in line at an Arby’s. There were two registers open. I waited my turn. There was a 10-year-old boy in front of me. He got to the head of the line. He turned to look at his mother, who was in the other line next to us. Mom was just one person back from being served herself, and that transaction was nearly finished. The mother said to her kid “well do you want anything?” The kid said “no I’m not hungry“ and just walked away.

I moved up to the counter when suddenly this mom shoved her way in front of me and said “I’m the next one in line!” Stunned, I told her that, no, she wasn’t next in line. She was waiting in the other line and at this point, she would’ve been first in line at the other register if she wouldn’t have tried to bum rush me in my line.

She threw all sorts of attitude, saying “that’s my son, and any line he’s in I’m in. So I’m in line.” I told her that he said he wasn’t hungry and he left the line. It didn’t matter – – Karen insisted she was standing in MY line all no matter what.

I was in a real time crunch and this really got me angry. And of course she was ordering for a family of 14 or whatever and had a huge order.

I started complaining loudly about line cutting, and one other guy chastised me saying I shouldn’t be rude! I shot back with “how is it physically or logically possible to be into lines at once?”

The manager heard the commotion and came over and opened another register for me, saying “I’ll help you here, sir.” I moved over to that line, but not before turning to Karen and saying “as long as Madame isn’t in this line as well!” Karen kept muting about how “rude” I was!

My daughter's class was having a Christmas party last year and I had signed up to provide some goodies for the kids. I was in line at Walmart with two bags of marshmallows, a giant bag if M&Ms and a bag of soft Peppermint candies. Some dude standing behind me eyeballs my groceries and mutters to his friend “no wonder that bitch is fat, look at what she's buying “

His friend starts cackling like a hyena. I turn around, huge grin on my face, and respond with “it's not for me, but cute speculation bro. Also, yeah I may be a bit pudgy, but what's YOUR excuse for being such a piece of shit? Mommy didn' t hug you as a child? Daddy touch your peepee at night? Or maybe you're just spiritually underdeveloped?

Needless to say, nobody was cackling after that.

Don't fucking insult me and expect to walk away feeling superior, ain't gonna happen

So this happened early December, me and my best friend went to Target to get some Christmas shopping done. We also bought a couple skirts and some makeup for my friend also at the time, he was wearing a reindeer crop top and a rainbow skirt. While waiting in line the lady behind us asked my friend what he was holding which is already a weird question.

My friend turned around and showed her the skirts because he’s super polite like that.

The lady then asked who the skirts were for. Looking back I wish I had turned around and told her to mind her own business.

But my friend said that they were for him. By then we both knew that this lady obviously had a problem with him wearing the skirts.

She asked if he was a tranny. I almost punched her.

He said no that he was gay.

Now the lady was wearing a mask because in this Target it was required. She pulled down her mask and spat on my friend calling him the f slur, saying he was limp-wristed and screaming that he was going to hell.

My friend is literally the sweetest person in the world and didn’t even try to contradict her. He looked like he was about to cry though and the lady kept screaming at him.

I almost lunged at her and I probably would have if the boy who was standing behind the lady hadn’t said “Why would they go to your house?”

The lady screamed some more, pointed her middle finger at us, and left.

The boy explained to us that he was also gay. He and my best friend are now dating and they are the cutest couple ever. I love both of them.

edit: holy shit there’s so many views on this! thanks guys for the love and support i’m glad that not everyone is a homophobic bitch

Not waiting in line but shopping around the store. My foot was extremely black and blue, also swollen because I dropped something heavy on it. Doctor told me to stay off it but I had a pair of shoes that will still fit it. So because my Doctor told me to stay off it, I was riding one of those electric carts. A woman without even asking if there’s a reason, came up to me and said “You selfish brat. Taking those carts when you don’t need it. You should leave those for the elderly.” I just told her “Really? Do you want to see my foot? I guarantee you. You will see why I need it.” Also pointed out not all issues are visible.

I learned though only when it’s visible do people not give you a hard time though. Because I had surgery recently and I am in crutches. With a knee brace and foot brace. No one gives me crap when they see me with an electric carts. Instead everyone acts extra nice.

I was in a Payless Shoes store. There was a nice sale on. I came to the register with my 3 year old and 5 different pairs of sneakers and sandals for her. A woman in line ahead of me with a little boy turned and angrily yelled at me, “Why are you buying her all those shoes! She doesn't need all those shoes!” I smiled at her and winked. Then I told the cashier, I'll be right back. Think I'll grab a couple more pair! The cashier looked as she would fall over laughing. The lady in front snatched up her one box of shoes and her kid and huffed and puffed her way to the door. My smile got bigger. I love them hating ass bitches! Their my favorites!

This actually happened in a parking lot before I even got into the store but continued throughout the trip (some people are just assholes).

A while ago I had a knee surgery that went south and my leg has never been right since. Due to this, I have a handicap pass. I don’t always use it but when I do, it is b/c I need to. This trip I needed to as the weather was bad and my knee felt like someone was taking a bat to it. Since I am young and not needing a wheelchair, walker, cane or crutches, parking in the handicap spot I always get looks. Well this woman was apparently in a horrible mood and looked at me and said to whomever she was on the phone with “WOW this little girl is something else!! She fucking parked in a handicap spot! What is wrong with young people! Oh, I am going to look! She better have a tag up or I am calling the cops and having her car towed” I looked at her and said “excuse me, I DO have a handicap tag and who are you to say anything about me parking in a handicap spot just b/c I’m not old?!?!?! You don’t know what is wrong with me do you????? No, you don’t, so how about you continue walking and mind your business!”

Walking through the store, I called a friend to ask what kind of humus she wanted me to grab her and this same lady (still on the phone) almost runs into my ankle and goes “I can’t believe it, that same girl is now on her phone and in my way! What is with this store! Everyone is on their phone!!” Me and another person rolled our eyes and I just said “hey pot have you met kettle?” which got people to laugh and made her even more pissed at the world. In EVERY isle and even though there was enough room for an elephant to go by, someone was in her way and she would “accidentally” run into me and say “fucking move you little ‘cripple’” with hand quotes. Please keep in mind I was limping b/c my leg was killing me and it really hurt to walk without pushing on the cart as a makeshift crutch.

Well others heard her talking like this and how it seemed to only be directed at me and one other person in the whole store. They started to have some fun LOL. Getting in her way and telling, not asking, her to move and get off her phone as it is rude. I just went along with my shopping and giggled a bit. The store manager had gone up to her a few times and asked her to watch her language.

I get into line and guess who is coming up a few people behind me?? Yup, Ms. Sunshine. Well I was raised to let people with a few small items go before me if I have a full cart. This pissed off my new “friend” even more as I was not the only one doing this. Other lines were doing the same.

She is flipping her shit at everyone when a manager came up to her AGAIN and told her to calm down or leave her cart where it was and leave the store. She went off on the store manager and he said “please leave”. This got a resounding applause BUT a very pissed off woman waiting outside to tell each person who walked out to shove their groceries up their ass.

This actually happened to my Puerto Rican-born husband, not me:

He was shopping at a Home Depot on Chicago’s south side, and two ladies in the checkout lane next to his were conversing in Spanish.

The woman in front of them turned around and gave them the hairy eyeball. “Speak English for Pete’s sake. You’re in America now, not back in sunny MEHICO”!

The two ladies stood a bit closer to each other and began to look frightened. They gazed down at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with the woman, who was only emboldened by their timidity.

“You people come to this country and you don’t even bother to learn the language,” the woman proclaimed loudly to no one in particular, “And then you wonder why nobody wants you here.”

My husband had heard enough.

”Excuse me madam, but has it ever occurred to you that no one in Mexico would ever want YOU there? I’ve traveled in Mexico extensively and most Mexicans are so courteous and welcoming it puts Americans to shame. I can’t imagine anyone there telling you that you have to speak Spanish or go home”.

“Why don’t you mind your own business”?, the woman retorted, “I ain’t even talking to you.”

“Ooooh, too late for that, ’cause I’m most definitely talking to you, lady”, my hubs replied, “ And just so you understand? The last Chicago census showed that 40% of the population is Hispanic, and that’s not even including all the undocumented folks who were afraid to stand up and be counted. You know what that means, right? WE’RE TAKING OVER, BABY”!

As it happens, most of the cashiers and the majority of customers at that hour were Latino or other people of color. A huge cheer broke out spontaneously, followed by laughter.

The lady wordlessly stalked out of the store, nose in the air, leaving behind her cart and whatever personal dignity she had come in with.🤭

I was standing in a long line at a checkout at a crowded store one day—not enough people working, half the self-serve counters weren’t working, people were exasperated, tempers wearing thin—you know the drill.

Directly in front of me was a young mother with a toddler—a bored toddler—and anyone who has ever been around toddlers knows what a recipe for disaster that can be. This toddler would pull his legs out of the leg holes in the cart and stand up in the seat—while all of us held our breath hoping he wouldn’t fall. The floor may have been only four feet away, but when you’re only two feet tall, that’s still a significant distance to a hard concrete end. But the mother was always immediately right there telling him to sit down. Without argument or tears, he would obey and sit right back down.

Then you could almost see the vibrations begin—he could not sit still for long—and up he would pop again. Mother never lost her patience, she would tell him to sit, he would sit, boredom would ensue, and up he would pop yet again. This must have happened five or six times. Mom never started to cry or yell or demonstrate exasperation in any way. The little boy didn’t cry or yell and would sit back down every time she would tell him to.

They both had my complete and total sympathy. Having raised four kids myself—3 of them active little boys who did not care for sitting still—I knew that standing in a long line at the checkout was one of the miseries of life for everyone involved.

Behind me in the line was an elderly man. His patience was not the patience of the mother. He spoke out—loudly enough for us all to hear— “When I was raising my children they would have gotten a spanking for such disobedience. Parents nowadays let their kids get away with anything.”

I saw the mother’s face get red with embarrassment.

I’m normally a polite person. I avoid disagreements with strangers. I mostly avoid conversation of any kind with strangers. Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut, but this time, the feisty in me rose to the surface. I couldn’t help it—really— I turned around and spoke to the man.

“He isn’t disobeying. Every time she tells him to sit, he sits. His mother is being extremely patient and kind and understanding of how difficult this is for him. The mother is handling him well, and the little boy is doing the best he can in the circumstances.”

The old man responded, “Well I raised four kids and spanked every one of them. My kids knew to obey me when I told them something.”

It was no doubt rude and downright mean of me, and I should probably be ashamed for saying it, but in return I asked, “Do any of them still speak to you?”

He didn’t answer. He just glared at me.

Perhaps what I said is actually the rudest thing said while waiting in line, and the old man should be writing this about me, but I really couldn’t help but defend that young mother and her little boy. Maybe I should be sorry, but the thing is, I’d probably do it again. Being a young parent is hard enough without know-it-alls making comments like that.

The mother smiled at me. The old man never said another word.

We all—quietly—got through the checkout and went our separate ways.

I was 7 months pregnant and I was at the self check out. My husband was working 14 hours a day, 6 days a week and I had to do most of the shopping alone (including lifting weights). I had paid for all my stuff and I was packing everything in my shopping trolley, including 2 boxes of 6 1,5litres of water ( so pretty heavy, and considering my son was born over 8 pounds, I was pretty big at that stage). I knew I was going slow, but there was no way I could be quick.

The guy behind me started to moan and then just asked me if I could “speed up things a little bit”. I turned to him and replied: “You could do something useful and help me. It would certainly be more useful than moaning”.

He didn't help me, but at least he stopped moaning and kept his mouth shut.

It wasn’t said to me, but to the woman in front of me. I was standing in line at a neighborhood grocery store. The lines were 4 or 5 people long, so there was a bit of a wait. The woman in front of me was well into her pregnancy, perhaps 7 or 8 months. In the line next to us was a man staring intently at the pregnant woman. She hadn't noticed. Suddenly he blurted out to her, “So are you pregnant or just fat?” I and the other women standing within earshot were stunned. The poor woman turned beet red with embarrassment. Before the rest of us could think of anything to say to this rude fellow, a tall woman in line behind him replied loudly, “So are you rude or just ignorant?” He turned and faced forward, his head shrank down and he stared at the floor, surrounded by women who were all glaring at him. No one said another word. Mercifully, he was finally at the head of the line, paid for his few purchases and left in a hurry. As soon as he hit the door, we all burst out laughing, including the woman who was pregnant. There was a palpable sense of relief. I think we all wanted to smack him.

When I worked at a street food stall, one of our regular customers was a foot fetishist.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with having a fetish, and as fixations go, feet is a fairly normal one, so that isn’t my problem with him.

My problem is, if you’re going to use someone else for sexual gratification, it’s polite to ask their permission first. And by polite, I mean the bare minimum of human decency and respect.

This guy was not polite.

He would loiter down the road from my stall, stained jacket undone, hands folded in front of him. His own shoes were of the scuffed, velcro-fastened variety, and even though I never had the luxury of sniffing him, he looked like he had a bad smell. His eyes trawled the pavement in front of him.

A woman in shiny, strappy shoes would click-clack past. His gaze would lock onto her soles, and a couple of seconds later, he’d lean away from the wall and roll into step three feet (ha) behind her.

Right behind. Eyes unmoving. Click-clack.

She’d join the queue for my cart, order her food, and he’d be the next in line. When his turn came to order, he would make some excuse not to buy anything, or reluctantly take a packet of gum, before speedwalking back to the sandals. Eventually, I’d lose sight of them, but I bet he was right behind his fantasy the whole way.

Once, though, I saw him attempt to strike up a conversation with a woman on the end of those sexy feet.

Like most of my customers, she was a young professional, wearing a smart little pencil skirt and formal shoes to match. If I’m honest, I didn’t notice her feet, but someone certainly did, and he trailed behind at a just-about-not-creepy distance. It was raining, so when the woman approached the counter, I deployed my standard rainy-day server banter.

“Enjoying the weather?”

“It’s like being in the Bahamas.”

“At least you dressed for it,” I said, nodding at her sodden drape of hair and embarrassing lack of coat. She chuckled, rolling her eyes.

Mr Foot Fetish looked up. “Your feet must be freezing.”

I normally appreciate customers who chat, but this particular line made me nauseous. Against all laws of both customer service and British etiquette, I did the unthinkable; I refused to smile. Only for half a second, because I’m not a barbarian, but I’d like to think my point was made.

I was careful to cut him off before she could innocently encourage this line of conversation. “Never mind. You’ll be fine once you get back to the office. That’s £3.80, please.”

She was busy getting the change out of her purse, so I assumed the danger was gone, but Mr Foot Fetish was persistent in a way that was almost admirable. “How far is your office?”

Being a moderately attractive young woman (even above the ankles, if you’re into that), she was sensibly wary of the question, and she hesitated for a split second before offering a non-committal, “Not far.”

Foot Fetish smiled. “Right,” he said. “Might have seen you before, actually. Think I work near you.”

I basically threw her change at her. “Better run back and get warm!” I said, with a touch of hysteria.

She hastily click-clacked away, and although Foot Fetish got an eyeful as she left, he couldn’t follow her without dealing with me first. I made sure I was really slow getting that pack of gum, grabbing him an unnecessary bag and napkin, fiddling with the change, shuffling invisible gum-selling items from one side of the counter to the other.

“You’re not very efficient,” he said, laughing as if he was joking, but his frustration was obvious. Not just a non-consensual foot fetishist, but a rude one at that. I smiled, and gave him his bag of gum.

Nothing he said to the woman was rude, but I guarantee she did not have a fun queuing experience — and in Britain, queuing is sacred. The things he said, and the way he stared, must have made her uncomfortable; I was uncomfortable, and I wasn’t even the target.

Here’s hoping I don’t have to deal with him in footure.

This question takes me back to what I fondly refer to as my son's “whirling dervish” phase.

Our son was about three years old and full of energy when one summer we went to visit my family back East. We were heading over to my aunt's house and stopped at an upscale grocery store, the likes of which my husband and I had never seen in the Midwest, where we lived. This was in 2005, and grocery stores with coffee shops and specialty sections with in-store chefs preparing gourmet foods were not prevalent like they are today.

Well, as I said, this was a really nice store and the customer service was fantastic. I hadn't grabbed a cart because we were just going to pick up some bananas and snacks for our son. But everything looked so fresh and delicious, and soon I was overloaded with things you simply couldn't find where we lived. I was balancing loaves of organic fruit and nut bread, fresh flowers, rosemary infused quinoa, all the while maintaining a death grip on our son's hand to avoid another Code Adam.

One of the store employees kindly brought a shopping cart over and said to my son, “I think your mom might need this, don't you?”

I was elated at the prospect of unburdening myself of my haul, so I thanked her profusely and went to place the items in the cart. Well, my son wasn't having it. The nice lady had given HIM the cart and when I tried to put my items in it, he screamed bloody murder! It went something like this:

I set a carton of freshly-pressed pomegranate juice in the cart.

"No!!!!!!!"

I put four individually-wrapped Asian pears in the cart.

"STOP!!!!!!!"

I set a jar of organic honey made by local bees complete with honeycomb in the cart.

"MINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

My child was clearly out of control, so, I did what desperate mothers have done for centuries: I went to get another shopping cart to avoid a meltdown.

Well, thank goodness my level-headed husband decided today was the day we were going to meet these tantrums head on! After explaining how I was enabling our son's behavior through a pattern of giving in, he advised me to put the items in cart and our son would soon get over it. Simple!

After dispensing that valuable piece of parenting advice, he headed off to the Fair Trade coffee bar for an espresso.

I put the groceries in the cart, and just as my husband reached the coffee line, the mother of all meltdowns commenced. With a dramatic flair, my son threw himself onto the floor and become one with the ground so that picking him up was like trying to remove Excalibur from the stone.

Since it didn't look like he was going to "get over it" anytime soon, I switched to Plan B: ignore the tantrum and let him cry it out in situ. But our son, not content to remain in situ, somehow managed to thrash around on the floor and wiggle himself under the cart. He then dug in for the long haul, wailing like a banshee.

In hindsight, my original solution was looking more and more viable.

Waiting in line for coffee, my husband was studiously ignoring the apocalypse unfolding before him. I, too, would have liked to disassociate myself from the tantrum-thrower but it was pretty obvious he was with frazzled woman trying to stop him from impaling himself on the underbelly of the shopping cart.

At this point, the well-dressed, attractive woman behind my husband in the coffee line figured she'd found a kindred spirit in this good-looking, upscale guy who just wanted a coffee and a little peace and quiet. She leaned in and whispered to him what I’m guessing went something like, “For God's sake, did that crazy woman just run that poor kid over with her shopping cart?”

And then I saw my husband shake his head and utter what I imagine must have been the rudest thing anyone has ever told anyone while waiting in line at a store:

"I have no idea."

Galvanized by this denial, I summoned the Herculean strength needed to break our son's grip on the bottom of the cart, pull him out by his armpits, hoist him up off the ground and carry him kicking and screaming over to his father.

"Here, honey. Hold your son while I finish shopping...and I’ll take a skinny vanilla latte."

I think we could all write a book about this but the rudest I heard was from a pharmacist while I was waiting in line for a prescription, not the other customers. My two year old daughter was potty training and doing a good job. That day she wanted to wear her big girl panties. She had been doing so for months.

The wait was long at the Drug Store. She needed to use the restroom. I asked if there was a restroom. The pharmacist barked “ no” at me. I explained the situation and asked if she could just use the employee rest room since we had waited a half hour already.

The pharmacist said “She will just have to wet her pants”. Really? I turned to my child and said. “Honey, just pee on the floor here. This place is just one big potty. “. My two year old politely squatted and peed all over the floor. The pharmacist was screaming. I said “ honey, this nice man will clean it up right after he gives me my paper back so we can go somewhere else. “

There were a lot of mothers also waiting and everyone found it quite funny but the pharmacist. I went back to that drug store a few years later and they had installed a public restroom.

PS. Whether you think I was right or wrong is of no matter to me. But the fact that some people think I did this over the use if the bathroom shows I did not make myself clear. I was a lawyer. Had the pharmacist said their insurance did not allow public use or said I might try xxx store that has a public restroom, no problem I get that. I could have taken her to the car and used a McDonald’s cup. It was that this man told a little girl to just wet her pants. Had she wet her pants the result would have been the same on the floor. I just decided to avoid the wet pants part and show this man that he was not providing customer service-of any form. I’m sure the issue of needing a restroom had come up before. The store should have had an appropriate response. There are Federal laws in place now concerning employee only restrooms.