Figure On A Customer Ogling Your Figure

| USA | Harassment

(At 19, I am employed at a sports bar and restaurant. I am often flirted with, usually in a creepy way, or even groped by various men because of my appearance. I am your typical teenage girl with long red hair and freckles. My manager lets it happen because he is the same way. This is particular incident, though, it was something happens often. This is one of my last shifts. Keep in mind I am very naïve at this age.)

Customer: “Heh, I like yer pants, there, girl. Do a little spin for me!”

Me: “Er, no. I’ll be back with your non-alcoholic drinks. [Coworker], will get you the rest?”

Customer: *upon my return* “Com’on! Gimme a spin! I’ll make it worth your while! I like me a girl who has a nice body. And you, girlie, have a perfect ten figure. D**n!”

Me: “Um, thanks, [Customer]. Can I get you anything else?”

Customer: “So, what bra size should I get you for your birthday? It’s coming up soon, right? Mmm, you look like a good B, my favorite! Why don’t you bend over a bit? Have some fun?”

Customer’s Friend: “Come on, [Customer], leave her alone. She’s just a kid.”

Customer: *practically shouting* “She has a perfect body and I want to preserve it!”

Me: *I approach my manager rather shaken, again* “I hate it when he comes here. He always treats me like a piece of meat.”

Manager: “He’s right, though. You should show more cleavage and get a better bra. It’ll earn you more tips. And be nice to him. He’s just a little drunk.”

Me: “Whatever.”

(I show up a week later with a much more revealing top with a push-up bra I never really wore. I am really going for the look they desired. I hate it, though.)

Manager: “What are you doing? You look ridiculous! No one wants to see your cleavage while they’re eating! Cover them up!”

Me: “Last week you said you wanted to see them. Which is it?”

Manager: “I can’t have you looking like a stripper. You’ll embarrass me if you keep dressing like that.”

(I quit my next shift. About five months later, I found out the bar went out of business. I don’t know why, but last I heard, my old manager was in trouble with the authorities for sexually assaulting his wife.)


Inviting Some Brotherly Trouble

| Cupertino, CA, USA | Engaged

(I am at lunch with my parents, boyfriend, brother, and his new wife of just over a month. My boyfriend have been together and lived together for quite a while and people joke we’re an ‘old married couple’ already. We are getting legally married in a few months in a very small ceremony at my parents’ house with a friend officiating. We haven’t told many people yet, aside from the couple of friends and family who will be in attendance, as we don’t feel like it’s a big deal, and also because we didn’t want to steal the thunder from my brother and his now-wife. When we ordered our wedding rings online we also got a simple band with some microscopic diamonds for me as an engagement ring of sorts. I’m fond of it though I rarely wear it. Most of the way through the meal my brother notices it on my finger.)

Brother: “Oh, look; you have a ring now, too!”

Me: “Oh, you haven’t seen it yet? Amazon! But yeah, we’ve had it for… a while. I’m trying to learn to wear it sometimes.”

Mom: “It’s so she can actually remember.”

Boyfriend: “Exactly! She’s training herself to get used to the idea.”

(We all laugh. A couple hours later when we have gone our separate ways and are running errands.)

Boyfriend: “Wait. You did remember to tell your brother we’re getting married, right? That wasn’t how he found out?”

Me: “Uhm. I think so? Wait, yes. It came up, because I remember mentioning we were keeping things quiet so we didn’t pull focus from his wedding. But I don’t remember if I ever told him we picked a date?”

Boyfriend: “We should probably tell them.”

Me: “We should, so they know to be there. You told your brother, right? I think I remember you saying you did?”

Boyfriend: “Uhm… I’m PRETTY sure I did. Ah, crap.”

(After we got home we both talked to our brothers to make sure they knew. They’ll be there.)


Waffling Them Down To A Few

| WA, USA | Boyfriend/Girlfriend

(My girlfriend and I went out to eat. I am finishing my waffle fries at the end of the meal. They are heavenly, but I’m not supposed to eat very much in a sitting and I’m very small.)

Me: “[Girlfriend], do you want some of my fries?”

Girlfriend: “No, thank you.”

(A few minutes later, I’m done to the last few.)

Me: “[Girlfriend], are you sure?”

Girlfriend: “Really, no, thank you.”

Me: “Okay. Well, I can’t finish them, and I’m not getting two or three in a to-go box, so I guess I’m done.”

Girlfriend: “I’ll eat them if you won’t.”


A Handy Career Prospect

| MN, USA | Marriage & Partners

(My husband and I are observing how long and slender my fingers are.)

Me: “Look, even my thumb is slender, it looks like a normal finger! I should be a hand model.”

Husband: “Yeah, go for it babe.”

(I Google how to become a hand model on my phone and find out I have to have near perfect fingernails and cuticles to do it. My fingernails are notoriously ragged looking.)

Me: “Well, there goes that career idea.”

Husband: “I just thought of something. If you can’t be a hand model that means you won’t be getting any hand jobs.”

Me: “Ha…”

(Cue me dissolving into a fit of laughter over the worst joke in the history of the world.)


The Date Was A Mess

| UK | Dating

(I’m out on a date with a girl I’ve recently gotten to know. The date goes well until the end, when I notice I made a bit of a mess with the condiments — salt a bit scattered over the table, some mustard splatter, etc. I go to clean it up with a napkin.)

Date: “What are you doing? That isn’t your job; it’s the waiter’s job to clean!

Me: “It’s no issue; I used to work this sort of job. They have to give it a wipe down anyway, but I figure why not make it a little easier? I didn’t mean to make this much of a mess.”

Date: “Sure, but you’re allowed to make as much mess as you want; you’re the customer! It’s their job to clean up after us, silly!”

Me: “…”

(I cleaned it up anyway, and we didn’t have many dates after that. These sort of instances along with her doing things like insisting that I HAD to put ‘x’ at the end of all my texts to her simply because she was my girlfriend (after I told her, I just don’t put x’s to anyone) and getting needlessly angry whenever I didn’t, I decided to call it quits.)

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