(My friend and I stop for some drinks on the way back from the library. She places her order.)

Barista: “And your name, for your drink?”

Friend: “Bren.”

(I look at her, as I’ve never heard her use this particular variant of her name.)

Friend: “It’s the name I’ve been giving out for stuff like this. It’s just easier.”

(We go to wait, and our drinks are made pretty quick.)

Friend: “What the- look at what they put for my name!”

(It reads “RED” but it’s the same drink she ordered and was done right after mine.)

Me: “Don’t worry; I’ve had people screw up my name much worse.”

(I work in an office for engineering. My coworker always starts an hour earlier than me, so I am a bit baffled to see him after his first weekend off, still staring at his log-in screen, fumbling with some random papers, when I arrive. I start work and don’t think much about it but, as this continues for another hour, I ask him:)

Me: “Everything’s all right?”

Coworker: *a bit embarrassed* “I can’t remember my password.”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “It’s your initials!”

Coworker: *serious* “Oh, thank you. It’s so hard to remember.”

This story is part of our Password roundup!

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(I have very recently moved to Oregon from California, and still had my California driver’s license. While I am at the grocery store I decide to pick up a 6 pack of beer to celebrate my arrival with my fiancée.)

Cashier: “ID, please?”

Me: *completely fine with being carded, due to having worked at a liquor store* “Sure. Here ya go.”

(The cashier proceeds to look at my California ID waaaay too long, even calling over another cashier to ask if my ID was fake. Finally she accepts it and enters my birthdate.)

Cashier: “I’d never seen any ID like this before… It’s so weird.”

Me: “It’s a California license. I wouldn’t expect you to get too many of them this far from the border.”

Cashier: “But it’s so odd looking…”

(She proceeds to use as many different synonyms for ‘weird’ as she can think of to describe my license for a good 30 seconds, stalling out the transaction.)

Me: *in all honesty* “You do realize there are 49 other states, all with different styles of driver’s license, right?”

Cashier: “…Oh, yeah…

(I’m working the registers and serving a Chinese person. My perky coworker, who’s Latino, walks by.)

Coworker: “Ní hǎo!”

Customer: “¿Cómo está?!”

Coworker: *completely taken by surprise* “That’s Spanish!”

(It’s relatively normal evening when an irate woman stomps up to the counter and slams a piece of paper down in front of my coworker.)

Lady: “I DEMAND to know who wrote this!”

(My coworker is taken aback but looks at the paper the woman has put on the counter.)

Coworker: “…Um.”

Lady: “WELL?!”

Coworker: “I’m, uh, sorry, but there’s no real way to know—”

Lady: “It SAYS it was written down in a shop like this! And this is EXACTLY how my argument was with one of your associates, VERBATIM!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry that you’re upset—”

Lady: “Upset!? I’m a LITTLE more than just f****** UPSET! This makes it seem like I’m in the wrong! I WAS NOT WRONG!! And I DEMAND to know who is responsible for this! I knew you were all unprofessional but this is ridiculous!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry you feel this way but I really don’t know how to help you. It says that this took place in California but I would have no idea who wrote this. I could ask around and tell my manager about this—”

Lady: “Yeah, you DO that. And I want whoever is responsible to remove this from the Internet. I am not in the wrong!”

Coworker: “I’m sure that—”

Lady: “I AM NOT IN THE WRONG!”

(She left with a huff and I went over to my coworker to see what the heck that was all about. Turns out the lady had actually printed out a screenshot of a story featured on Not Always Right! The lady returned an hour or two later asking for the paper back, as she realized she had gone to the wrong [Sandwich Shop] where she had had an explosion apparently similar to what the story entailed. She left without an apology or even a simple “thank you” but at least she indirectly helped us to find this website! And to the other [Sandwich Shop] workers within the area: be warned for the crazy lady with a piece of paper blaming her for having been in the wrong.)