I’m working as a hospital aide to pay rent through undergrad, usually working night shifts. It’s been one long, continuous disaster of a night, and by the time I finally manage to get enough of a lid on the chaos to go take my break — two hours late — all I want to do is sit and breathe for a few minutes, WITHOUT being handed any more tasks or dragged into emotionally draining conversations.

To my horror, I find that my least favorite aide on the floor is on break at the same time as me. This woman does. Not. Shut. Up. EVER. Her favorite (only) topic is herself, how everyone has wronged her, how put-upon and overworked she is, and what a martyr to her career and her dear, dear patients she is. She’ll tell you this while ignoring three call lights and a patient yelling for help, and she’ll ask you to do her tasks for her since she’s soooooooo busy. Since it’s the peak of Global Yuck, I can’t just go find somewhere else in the hospital to take my break. My only other option is to go outside. In the middle of a sleet-filled Chicago January. Riiiiiiiiiight.

I am NOT in the mood for this, and I decide to see if I can head off the woe-is-me monologue before it starts.

Me: “Hey, no offense, but I’m really not in the mood to talk. It’s been a long night.”

You never know. Maybe it’ll work. Maybe a herd of pigs is in flight somewhere.

Other Aide: “Oh, I totally get it. I’ve been run off my feet! And the nurses I’ve been assigned tonight are all such jerks. Do you know [Utterly Sweet, Diligent Nurse] expects me to bladder-scan three people? That’s not my job!” 

No such luck. And for the record, bladder-scanning is absolutely our job. It takes maybe two minutes and can be done alongside dropping off dinner trays or checking vitals. Nothing at all worth complaining about.

Me: “That sucks, but I really don’t want to talk about work. Or at all. It’s not you, just a long night.”

Other Aide: “Oh, I know, I’m not talking to you, just talking out loud. You can ignore me!”

We’re the only two people in the room.

Other Aide: “Anyway, did you hear [horrible gossip about another aide on our floor, a very sweet woman who lost her husband two years ago]? Serves her right. She refused to help me with my rounds! She’s so self-centered, isn’t she?”

Me: “…I really don’t want to talk about this.”

Curse my midwestern upbringing. Even in the face of an awful, hateful witch like this, I can’t bring myself to be openly rude. It’s physically painful to try. I’m working on undoing that conditioning, but it’s a sloooooow process, and in the meantime, I’m trapped.

Other Aide: “You don’t have to reply; I’m just talking to myself! What are you doing this weekend? My boyfriend said he has a surprise for me. I hope it’s better than…”

I finally get fed up, dig my earbuds out of my bag, and plug them into my phone without turning anything on. She claimed she wasn’t talking to me, but surprise freaking surprise, as soon as I am visibly Not Listening, she stops monologuing like a cartoon villain and spends the rest of the break glaring at me. It’s well worth it to finally get a little quiet, and I’m able to recombobulate a little before staggering back into the ring to finish my shift.

My favorite part of the story, though, comes a few weeks later, at one of the weekly game nights. I’ll periodically rant about work and the Great Plague, and the game group, all close friends, have been cracking jokes and helping keep me sane. Needless to say, they hear about the incident and help get me laughing out of a bad mood. I don’t think much of it until [Friend #2], who’s writing the story that we’re playing, introduces our next big fight: an undead lich, aide to the corrupt monarch we’re trying to topple. We’re halfway through the fight when…

Lich: “I cannot believe the nerve of you people! Do you have any idea how long it took me to carve out this power vacuum and find a regular supply of prisoners and orphans to experiment on? You are ruining it. And you clearly don’t even appreciate the architecture of my lair! No taste at all! So rude!”

Friend #1: “Oh, God, she’s going [Entitled-Customer-Type]! Kill her faster!”

Me: “Wait…”

Lich: “ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME? I spend all of my undeath serving the Count, and I still have to deal with peons like you! No one appreciates all the work I do! And now I’m going to have to spend days reorganizing my lair. I hope you’re happy that you ruined my weekend!”

Me: “Is that…?”

Friend #2: “I might not be able to actually drop a building on your s***ty coworker for you, but I can help you do it in effigy!”

Me: “Oh, my God, YES!”

I’m laughing hysterically by this point, and the rest of the group joins in as it sinks in who we’re fighting. It is an excellent, well-fought battle, and we finally manage to destroy the lich’s artifact of power and have her pinned under rubble, the secret underground dungeon/laboratory collapsing around us.

Friend #3: “You want to do the honors?”

Me: “Absolutely, I do!”

Lich [Other Aide] has gone down in game-group history as one of our favorite bosses to defeat. We took great pleasure in dropping the ceiling on her, still yelling about how underappreciated she was. Working in a hospital during the plague sucked for a lot of reasons, but supportive friends make up for a lot!

It’s seniors day at the drug store where I work. Usually, the worst customers are on seniors day, and this one is no exception. I am serving an older woman at the cash register.

Me: “Did you need a bag at all?”

Customer: “Do you charge for bags?”

Me: “Yes, 5¢ a bag.”

Customer: “Hmph, I knew when I saw you; some people are just evil.”

Me: “All the money from the bags goes to [Store] foundation!”

I finished serving her and she left without a bag, but she continued to rant at me about being evil as she left and as she got her stuff together on a bench in the mall just outside the store.

(I’m at home playing Sims on my computer, and have created characters for myself and my boyfriend. I’m asking him about careers.)

Me: *lists of a few random careers* “So, any you think you would be interested in?”

Boyfriend: “Wait, Emperor of Evil? That’s a job?”

Me: “Yeah, but—”

Boyfriend: “Emperor of Evil.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

Boyfriend: “Emperor of Evil.”

Me: “Okay. But if you scare the kids I’m gonna be mad.”

Boyfriend: “They’ll be my little minions…”

Me: “Yeah, that’s the other thing I’m afraid of.”

Boyfriend: “Wanna help daddy work, baby? Wanna play princess? Today I’m stealing the crown jewels from the Queen!”

Me: “That’s more Master Thief, which by the way is way more lucrative.”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, but a Master Thief wouldn’t turn the crown jewel into a death ray after, then hold the world ransom or I’ll blow up the moon.”

Me: “That was half Mr. Freeze, half Dr. Evil?”

Boyfriend: “Wanna play Star Wars, kids? We can re-enact the scene where everyone’s on their way to Alderaan!”

Me: “You are NOT blowing up the children!”

Boyfriend: “Not the kids, woman, THE MOON. They will be nowhere near it.”

Me: “I can picture this being an actual conversation between our sims.”

Boyfriend: “I can picture this being an actual conversation in our lives.”

I’m a mechanic. A lady calls in.

Customer: “I need a new radiator. I have it in my car and I’m on the way to get it replaced. The shop I trust diagnosed it, but you’re closer and I really need to get it done. I’m in a rush!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. Just bring that in and we’ll have a look for you.”

Customer: “I’M IN A RUSH! I NEED YOU GUYS TO GET THIS DONE AS FAST AS POSSIBLE! I HAVE SO MANY IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO! HOW MUCH IS THE LABOR GOING TO COST ME?”

My boss, the quick-thinking guy that he is, pulls up her information and tells her that the radiator installation is going to be around $250 in labor.

Customer: “Okay! I’ll be there in around twenty minutes!”

Usually, we are a pretty busy shop, but today we are deader than a nun’s Friday night, so the two head techs flip a coin to see who is going to get paid. We’re all going to pitch in anyway because we want to get this lady in and out.

She pulls in and my manager and head tech go out to greet her. She tosses the keys at them.

Customer: “Get it done, ASAP!”

The head tech pulls the car in. In an awesome display of teamwork and skill, we take a still-steaming radiator and replace it with the brand-new one the customer has within an hour. The head tech pulls the car around and we go in with smiling faces to talk to the customer and thank her for our business and generally be proud of ourselves.

Alas, this is not to be.

The lady is angry. Super angry. She starts screaming at our manager about how we cheated her, we screwed her over, and we’re gonna get sued by her lawyer husband, etc, etc.

Manager: “We did our best and had three techs working on your car to get it out as fast as possible.”

He shows her the old radiator and reminds her that she watched us pull the old radiator out and put the new one in.

Customer: “I’m not paying any money! You’re going to cheat me because you did the job too fast!”

My manager, who is normally a very kind and understanding guy, has experienced quite enough of this lady’s attitude:

Manager: “Ma’am, you have two choices. One, we could call the cops and tell them that you’re refusing to pay for services rendered. Or two…”

He now has a devilish smile on his face:

Manager: “…we could replace the new radiator with the old one free of charge.”

She decides to take the second option! We’re sitting just outside the waiting area listening to her wail like a banshee. Our manager comes back out and says:

Manager: “Hey, you guys want lunch? You know that Chinese place you guys like so much, but it takes forever for them to get you your food? Why don’t you guys go there and eat in? My treat.”

He handed us a wad of money and told us to go.

After we left (this is according to the manager, but I believe him due to the customer’s evil glare when we came back), he went back in and informed her that all the techs went on their mandatory lunch break and wouldn’t be back for an hour.

After we came back, funny enough, it took us two hours to put that old, leaky radiator back in.

(I am ringing customers. A woman gets in the small line that is forming, followed by a gentleman who is spouting about seeing Jesus and being pure of heart and spirituality. He was in earlier in the day so I know who he is.)

Man: *mumbles about seeing Jesus*

Woman: “I don’t want to hear it.”

(They continue like this until the woman comes up to me to be rung up. The gentleman continues while the woman silently pleads for help. I decide to step in.)

Me: “Sir, I am sorry, but we are in the middle of a transaction here.”

Man: *mumbles about being rude*

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we are still in the middle of a transaction.”

Man: “I was talking to her.”

(The woman mouths, “Thank you,” to me, I nod, and we finish the transaction. The gentleman is next in line.)

Me: “I’m sorry about before, sir, it’s just that we were in the middle of a transaction.”

Man: “Oh, you must be a devil worshiper, then.”

(I am shocked, since I did NOT expect to be accused of being a devil worshiper. I barely know what to say. I see he has a skull cap on and decide to go the Jewish route, since I am Jewish, as well.)

Me: “Sir, I’m not a devil worshiper; I’m Jewish.”

Man: “You are?”

Me: “Yes, I am.”

Man: “Oh, well, that doesn’t make a difference; you could still be a devil worshiper.”

(After going back and forth on this subject for another minute, I gave up and just “yes”ed him to death while finishing the transaction.)