(I’m working at a small, nonprofit, no-kill animal shelter. All animals are spayed or neutered before being adopted. Most of our dogs are mixed breeds of some kind.)

Customer: “Do you have any male [rare, specific breed of dog]?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. I don’t think that’s a breed we see here very often, if at all. Maybe [something similar]?”

Customer: “No, it has to be [specific breed]. I’m looking for a male to match with my female so they can have puppies.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Even if we did have one, all of our animals are spayed or neutered before being adopted, so you wouldn’t be able to breed them.”

Customer: “But what if I wanted him to keep his penis?”

(I debated explaining how neutering works — that the penis is not actually removed — but ultimately decided that it wouldn’t be a productive conversation and let it go.)

(I’m working at an animal shelter. The really young puppies — typically two to three months — are kept separate from the adult dogs. A woman comes out of the puppy area, approaches me, and tells me she has a puppy on hold to adopt.)

Customer: “Do you have any younger puppies?”

Me: *knows that the litter of puppies back there is two months old* “No. Two months is the youngest that we typically adopt out.”

Customer: “But it’s not like a baby baby puppy.”

Me: “Well…”

Customer: “I mean, not like a nine-week-old puppy.”

Me: “Actually, nine weeks is a little older than two months.”

(My friend loves cats; her husband does not. After much discussion they agree to adopt one, but they must both agree on the cat. At the shelter they are introduced to many cats, but my friend’s husband isn’t too keen on any of them. Then, my friend notices one last cage tucked away in the corner, which turns out to belong to a timid little grey female. The shelter employee opens up the cage so they can interact with her, but as my friend’s husband reaches in to pet her the tiny, wide-eyed girl lets out a fearful hiss. My friend fears this is that is the end of that, but instead he turns to her with a wide grin.)

Husband: “I like this one; she sounds like Darth Vader!”

(They took her home that day. Three years later, she is still the undisputed queen of their house and the perfect cat for them.)

(It is the Fourth of July weekend, and the SPCA in our town is running an adoption special. All adult dogs are $17.76 to adopt in honor of the holiday. I volunteer at this shelter, and my boyfriend and I have come to visit the dogs frequently. We’ve finally found one we love and fits with us, and we’re signing the adoption papers. This conversation happens with another member of the public at the front desk.)

Shelter Staff: “There you go, [My Name]! I’m so happy you guys finally found a dog you love, and for a great price!”

Me: “Yeah, Brandy is a great dog, and we can use the money we’re saving on her adoption fee to buy more stuff to spoil her with!”

Teenager: *standing in the lobby looking at the cats hanging out in a cage there* “How much are dogs this weekend?”

Shelter Staff: “They’re only $17.76 to adopt adult dogs! Did you want to look at one?”

Teenager: “I don’t get it. Why is it $17.76; is there tax or something?”

Me: “No… It’s Independence Day. $17.76 like the year? 1776? Declaration of Independence?”

Teenager: “Oh! Like that Nicolas Cage movie!”

(After losing my job, I am forced to make financial cuts, including a monthly donation to a local shelter. I go on their website to see how to cancel. The only option is to call the shelter directly.)

Shelter Rep #1: “Thank you for calling [Shelter]. How can I direct your call?”

Me: “Uh, hello. I need to cancel my monthly donation.”

Shelter Rep #1: *angry* “Why?”

Me: *startled* “Well, I lost my job and—“

Shelter Rep #1: “[Shelter] runs solely on volunteers and donations. Every penny counts!”

Me: “Yes, but I have no income and—“

Shelter Rep #1: “And we make no income from your donations! Are you really going to abandon these animals?”

Me: *getting annoyed* “I don’t have a job and my bills are piling up.”

Shelter Rep #1: “We all have regular jobs and donate our time here. Your money goes directly to the animals and upkeep!”

Me: “I’m glad, but I really can’t afford to keep donating right now. Please, just… How do I cancel?”

Shelter Rep #1: *huffs* “If you really don’t want to save animals anymore, I can take your information.”

Me: “Okay…” *gives my information* “And that’s all I have to do?”

Shelter Rep #1: *bitterly* “Yes. Goodbye.”

(I watch my bank account closely. Sure enough, the next month comes around and my “donation” is taken out again. I call back, feeling a little less guilty this time. Thankfully, I get a different woman.)

Shelter Rep #2: “Thank you for calling [Shelter]. How can I direct your call?”

Me: “Hi. I called last month to cancel my donation, but it just came out again.”

Shelter Rep #2: “Oh, I’m sorry about that. Let me take a look. Could I have your information, please?”

Me: *gives my information* “The last woman I spoke with seemed very upset I was cancelling.”

Shelter Rep #2: “Oh. You spoke with [Shelter Rep #1]?”

Me: “I don’t know. She never gave her name.”

Shelter Rep #2: “Yes, I see you spoke with her. She… Well, she was quite passionate about saving animals. Unfortunately, her passion did not quite align with ours and she left without processing your cancellation. I’ll put this through today.”

Me: “Oh, thank you. As soon as I get back on my feet, I’ll be back!”

Shelter Rep #2: *laughs* “These things happen. We are thankful for your donations when they come. I hope you find a job soon. Job hunting can be so stressful!”

Me: *relieved* “Yes, it is! Thank you so much!”

(A few weeks later, I got a call about a job I had been hoping for. As soon as my bills were up to date and I felt stable again, I re-enrolled with the shelter. I understand losing donors hurts, but that woman acting like an a**hole probably hurt them more than they know.)