I live with my mother, and I cook for both of us most of the time. However, on this particular evening and after a long day at work, neither of us has the will to cook, so we decide to order sushi. I open the take-out app on my phone and select the options we want. It’s 7:00 pm, and the order will arrive around 7:45 pm, so we wait.

Around 8:00 pm, nothing has arrived. I call the restaurant, and they tell us the driver just left with our order; he should arrive in around twenty minutes. We wait some more.

At 9:00 pm, still no food. I call the restaurant again, and they say the driver is two streets away. Fifteen minutes later — yes, for two streets — the delivery guy is at the door. He gives me our order without an apology for arriving so late, and he leaves.

I check the bag, and our desserts are missing. Again, I call the restaurant.

Restaurant: “[Restaurant], good evening!”

Me: “Good evening. I called you twice tonight to enquire about our order for [our address]. We finally received it, but we are missing the desserts.”

Restaurant: “Our apology for the inconvenience. We’ll remove the price of [desserts] from your next order.”

Me: “When will the delivery person arrive with them?”

Restaurant: “Look, we’re not gonna send him out again just for some desserts.”

I start to lose my cool.

Me: “No, I disagree. I paid for those desserts, and I want them delivered.”

Restaurant: “We understand that you paid for them, which is why we’ll remove the price of the desserts from your next order.”

Me: “No. The delivery we expected for 7:45 pm arrived an hour and a half late, we were missing items, and now you’re telling me you’re not going to send what was missing? There won’t be any more orders from our end.”

Restaurant: “Well, you did order from [Delivery App]…”

Me: “Are you saying it’s my fault?”

Restaurant: “No, that’s not what I meant.”

Me: “Do you really think it’s acceptable? The order arrived more than an hour late, half of the order is missing, you are refusing to send the rest of the food I paid for, and I am somehow responsible for this whole fiasco because I ordered through [Delivery App]. Is that what you are saying? And you expect me to order from you again?”

Restaurant: “Sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Me: “Wrong. You can send what’s missing.”

We went back and forth, and they ultimately refused to send the rest of my order. I placed a scathing review on the page of the restaurant.

Another hour later, the delivery person called me. He had forgotten the desserts in the back of his car, and he offered to deliver them.

The desserts were ice cream mochis — left in a car on a hot summer evening for an hour. I declined.

I was creating a billboard for a client that had a trucking school. They sent me a logo, the copy, and a photo of two semi-trucks side by side at a three-quarter view. I created a billboard and sent them a sample.

Client: “The boss doesn’t want both trucks in the billboard. Can you take out the black one in front and just leave the red one in the back?”

Me: “Can you send me a photo with just the red truck?”

Client: “Sorry, that’s the way the photographer photographed them. We don’t have any of the red truck by itself.”

Me: “Can you get me the keys to the red truck?”

For decades, my wife and I kept extended warranties on our appliances such as our refrigerators and washers. Whenever we booked a repair from the company that we purchased the appliance from, they always asked which time slot I wanted: either 8:00 to 12:00 or 1:00 to 5:00. No matter which time slot I chose, it seemed that I was the last stop in the time slot I chose, so I’d wait over three hours for them arrive.

We had a new refrigerator that needed a third repair within the first year we purchased it, so it qualified for the lemon law, and we were entitled to a new appliance at no cost. Per procedures, they sent a technician for this repair, and after looking at my fridge, he ordered parts for this repair to be sent to our address.

In the meantime, we received our brand-new replacement fridge, so the service representative called and asked if they could pick up the parts for the repair that had already been delivered to our home.

Me: “Sure. On Friday, I will be home for thirty minutes between 8:00 and 12:00, and for thirty minutes between 1:00 and 5:00. So, what time period would you like?”

The line went silent, and then she hung up. They never picked up the parts, ever.

My hotel hosted a huge wedding all weekend. We also hosted the big rehearsal dinner, where the bride and groom got into a huge fight that ended up in the lobby with the bride screaming that she hated the groom, that his mother and sisters were horrible harpies, and that she was pregnant and she didn’t know if he was the father.

I was specifically told by management that if any guest from the wedding wanted to check out early not to charge them an early departure fee because the fight was that spectacular.

They then still actually had the wedding (why?!), and I’m told their reception was booked for two hundred people. About fifty showed up.

Some of the wedding guests (some parents and a roughly college-age son) decided to have a huge fight in the middle of the parking lot. It was so loud and aggressive that another guest called 911 on them.

Management wanted to know why I didn’t send security down to defuse it, but the first I heard of the issue was the police showing up; no one called us to complain, and security was dealing with an issue on the other side of the property.

While this was happening, the bride and groom got into another huge fight in the middle of the wedding reception, and the bride went home with her mom.

We were all so happy that the party wrapped up after that!

Related:
The More You Read The Worse It Gets, Part 19
The More You Read The Worse It Gets, Part 18
The More You Read The Worse It Gets, Part 17
The More You Read The Worse It Gets, Part 16
The More You Read The Worse It Gets, Part 15

I am working at the box office for a Broadway theater. We get a lot of tourists coming in with no bookings hoping to grab any spare seats, but it’s extremely hit-and-miss. If we do have some available, it’s one or two and usually not the best seats.

Our current production is proving popular as it stars an A-list Hollywood actor in their Broadway debut. It’s about a romance between a beekeeper and a quantum physicist, and the dialogue can get a bit heavy on the science.

A couple of tourists come in and ask me the usual question:

Customer: “Can we get two tickets for the show tonight?”

They said, “Can we get…” and not, “Are there any available?” They are just assuming there are last-minute spare tickets to a famous Broadway production on a Saturday night.

Me: “I’m afraid we’re totally sold out for this evening. If you’re looking for two tickets, we have some available at tomorrow’s matinee, but they aren’t together, and they are the final two available. If you’d like two together, we don’t have anything available until next week Tuesday.”

Customer: “That’s ridiculous. You’re saying you’re sold out?!”

Me: “I’m afraid so. We are sold out for tonight.”

Customer: “Well, can we get some of the spare tickets?”

Me: “I’m sorry… Spare tickets?”

Customer: “You theaters always hold back some spares to be sold on the day or something!”

Me: “That is not the case here. Literally every seat is sold out for tonight’s performance.”

Customer: “I refuse to believe you don’t have any seats at all!”

Me: “We have zero seats available. None at all.”

Customer: “Look, just move some groups around or something, or designate one of the disabled seats as one for ‘normal people’ or whatever. Just get us two seats!”

I was being polite until now, but they just said that disabled people weren’t “normal” so the gloves have come off.

Me: “Sir, you should leave. I don’t think this play is suitable for you.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Because this play delves deep into quantum physics and mathematics, and you can’t even figure out that zero does not equal two.”

Customer: “Get me your manager!”

Me: “Happy to.”

I pushed back from the box office desk and wheeled myself back to the phone using my wheelchair.

The tourists stared at me for a moment, tutted loudly, and just stormed off.

Related:
Math Is Your Friend, Part 16
Math Is Your Friend, Part 15
Math Is Your Friend, Part 14
Math Is Your Friend, Part 13
Math Is Your Friend, Part 12