My teenage son is starting his first job in a hardware store today, which is why I am surprised to find him at home playing video games in the middle of the day when I come back to get something.

Me: “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Son: “I am.”

Me: “You’re in our living room playing video games.”

Son: “They told me to drive to the other hardware store to buy tartan paint as we were out. I’m not an idiot, so I’m gonna play videogames all day, go back at the end of my shift, tell them I went to every hardware store in town, got laughed at, and let them have their fun. In the meantime, I’m gonna defeat this boss on their dime.”

Good for him!

I walked into the hotel where I work one morning at the start of my shift to see a woman going through our garbage.

Me: “Good morning!”

Woman: “I’m sorry. Do you want me to leave? I’m just looking for cans.”

Beer cans in my province can be returned for ten cents per can, and our little property usually has $20-$40 worth per week.

Me: “I’ll tell the owners it’s okay. I’d rather see it get recycled and you get a few bucks than see it just go to the landfill. What’s your name?”

Woman: “It’s Brenda. Thank you, I’ll make sure I clean everything up before I leave!”

I gave her a bag for her cans, and she cleaned up the whole area around the garbage, not just the mess she made sorting.

This week I came in for the morning to find out bins on the ground, garbage everywhere. God d*** it, Brenda, I was being nice, and now I have to clean this up.

I checked the cameras, and it turns out we have a young black bear who is rummaging through our trash. I saw her eat half a pizza, sitting down, as if she belonged here.

I jokingly called the bear “Bad Brenda,” and the name has stuck. I’ll get messages from my general manager:

General Manager: “Bad Brenda was back.”

Can’t really do much about it. Bad Brenda loves her leftover pizza!

A woman is calling to make a reservation.

Me: “Okay, so that’s a table for four people this Sunday at midday. Is this for a special occasion?”

Caller: “Not really, but please put in the notes that my husband is going to make some kind of remark or special order that might prompt the waiter to correct him. Put in a note for them to just… not do that?”

Me: “Uh… I’ll make sure one of our more experienced waitstaff serves you on Sunday, ma’am.”

Caller: “Thank you!”

I leave a note in the booking. Sunday rolls around, and I point out the note to our veteran waitress who will be handling them that day. They nod and say they’ll figure it out.

Later on Sunday afternoon, I catch up with the waitress on our break.

Me: “So what was that table all about?”

Waitress: “Oh yeah! The husband was looking at the bacon but said, “I can’t eat pork so I’ll have the ham instead.” I looked over to the wife who was giving me the “say nothing!” look, so I just said that was a good choice and let the guy order his ham.”

Me: “Oh. Ha! I guess she’s used to her husband doing stuff like that.”

Waitress: “Yeah, I see it all the time. This wife had the good sense to call us ahead of time to warn us, but do this job long enough and you learn to dance around customers like that.”

A customer in line places an assortment of tools on the counter and says:

Customer: “What sort of discount are you going to give me because I can buy these tools elsewhere?”

Me: “Go elsewhere.”

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “Go elsewhere. I don’t get commission. I don’t give a s** where you choose to be a pain in the a**. Oh, and add on the cost of the gas and time it takes you to go elsewhere to buy those tools.”

Customer: “You could have just said ‘no’, you know.”

Me: “And you could have just bought the item quietly like all the other customers.”

He finished the purchase in silence, and I didn’t get into trouble (not that it would have mattered, as I was a week away from retirement).

When I was younger, my immediate family went on a trip together with our cousins. It had been one of my cousin’s birthdays a couple of days beforehand, and we had had some leftover birthday cake before going out for the day. The one I am telling this story about was seven at the time. 

During the trip, we passed an ice cream shop:

Cousin: “I want ice cream!”

Aunt: “No, you can’t have ice cream. You already had cake.”

Cousin: “You know, this is how revolutions start.”