At work, we have a communal jar of peanut butter, a communal jar of jam, some communal fruit and yogurt, and a communal loaf of bread. We each take turns refilling these things as they run empty; there’s a rotation on the board.

I make myself a peanut butter sandwich with the bread. It tastes off.

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], does this bread seem off to you?”

He smells it.

Coworker: “Yeah. It smells kinda like mouse.”

I picked up the bag of bread to inspect it more closely and discovered a mouse hole chewed in the rear of the bag. I removed a couple of slices of bread and found a mouse and several mouselings nesting in the middle of the loaf of bread.

In a very manly fashion, I screamed and threw the bread. I don’t know what happened to the mouse or her pinkies. Subsequent investigation showed that several of the fruits had been nibbled, and a hole had been chewed into the side of the (plastic) peanut butter jar.

We hired an exterminator, and afterward, management changed the policy: no food in the breakroom pantry overnight.

I’ve been a store manager at this store for a year. It’s a small town. I was a cashier at this store for four years during university before being promoted/hired as the store manager, so I know a lot of the faces and what they’re like. One customer has always been rude to employees, especially if they “don’t seem to know what they’re doing”.

One day, I get called over the radio to come to cash for a customer complaint. The cashier who called is still in her training phase. There are only four cashes in the store, so the other cashiers are close by if she needs help.

As I’m walking up, I notice that it’s the customer I previously mentioned, and he already looks quite unimpressed. He’s purchasing an item that requires a special ID. He has done this plenty of times as he is the one in town who does the training for this special ID, and we are one of only two businesses that sell this product. Both the employee who gets the item out of the locked showcase and the cashier check the ID.

Me: “Good afternoon. Someone needed a manager?” 

Customer: “Yes, all your employees are useless. She didn’t know I needed my ID checked again and had to ask another cashier how to do that.”

Me: “Ah, yes, I’m sorry to hear that. She is still training and asks a more senior cashier if she isn’t sure.”

Customer: “Why do you always have new people training? Why can’t I ever get someone who knows what they’re doing?”

Me: “Well, it’s hard to find people who are willing to deal with customers like you who stress them out so much over something so trivial. Most don’t last after learning that you aren’t going away.”

When I became a store manager, I made sure that my staff wasn’t treated the same way I was when I was a cashier. At that, I walked away from him while he tried to figure out a response.

He demanded the senior cashier give him the number for corporate. Corporate called me a few hours later asking for my side of the story. Once they got it all, they asked me if I wanted to ban the customer. I told them to scare him a bit by saying I had the ability to, but I’m not that heartless since there aren’t many choices in our small town. The next time he came in, he was much more appreciative of the staff.

There is a rule of thumb that if you do something right, then a person who sees it will tell three others — but if you do something wrong, they will tell ten. After reading so many Not Always Right stories of how nasty people are, I decided to be one of the three.

I get a call from my bank. After going through all the security procedures:

Bank: “Have you been to Argentina in the past month?”

Me: “I haven’t been out of my state in over a year.”

Bank: “We’re sorry, but it appears that someone has used your debit card number to buy about $60 worth of clothes in South America. We see this when they try to use a small amount first to see if it will go through. We’ll cancel the card and credit the amount back to your account.”

Me: “Thank you for keeping an eye on my account!”

Silence.

Me: “Hello. Are you there?”

Bank: “Sorry, I was just surprised. A lot of people swear at us when we tell them news like this.”

So, in deciding to be one of the three, a few weeks later, I call the customer service number of my bank and ask for the fraud department. When the lady answers and inquires as to my problem:

Me: “I simply wanted to thank you all for your diligence in keeping an eye on my account.”

Again, silence.

Fraud Department: “Thank you for the kind words!”

She sounded like she was nearly starting to tear up. Earlier that day, someone verbally ripped into her. Trying to help and protect your bank information, and you rip them apart! I will continue to try to be one of the three going forward!

Back in high school, I remember learning to make a circuit with wires, a battery, and a tiny lightbulb. The really smart kids also added a switch and learned how it connected and disconnected the circuit.

Present day, my fourteen-year-old turns to me and asks.

Kid: “Do you want to see my homework?”

Me: “Sure.”

They pull out all these wires and three little coloured lights — red, yellow, and green — and proceed to construct something. They’re connecting alligator clips and troubleshooting which bulbs need to be replaced. Finally, they have the whole thing put together.

Me: “Is this for an electrical class or something?”

Kid: “No. It’s for coding.”

And then they plug it into their computer and open up a program they wrote. I stare in wonder as the lights flash on and off. Red. Green. Yellow.

Kid: “That’s not right; these two are mixed up.”

They then reassemble it so they light up red, then yellow, and then green, muttering to themself as they go.

Me: “Hey, even with the signals being switched, that is still really impressive.”

Kid: “What? I haven’t started yet. This program just tests that I wired it properly. Here is my coding homework.”

And then the lights started flashing in a pattern with alternating speeds. I stood there with my mind blown, remembering my school days with the lightbulb, battery, and switch.

Kids these days.

Customer: “Get me a piña colada.”

I do so. 

Customer: “Eww! This has coconut in it! I don’t like coconut!” 

I get her another drink without sighing. She then points to the original piña colada.

Customer: “What are you going to do with that one? Will you throw it away?”

I just look at her. 

Customer: “I’ll still drink it if you’re just gonna throw it away.”

Me: “I do like coconut.”

I took a sip. She pouted.