It is 2005 and I am working at a video rental store – remember those? We also sell snacks, sweets and ice cream. All the food items are in view of the counter, and are the only items of value that aren’t stored behind the counter (all the DVD and video game boxes on the shelves are empty).

The location I work in is in a slightly seedy part of town, on a major road leading to the city center, and we are surrounded by a mix of cheap bed-and-breakfasts and bail hostels, so shoplifting is an issue for us. The ice-cream is often targeted since it is the most expensive single food item we sell; one-pint pots cost for about $5 each.

There are always at least two people on shift, and the cleverer shoplifters wait for us to both be busy before swiping the ice-cream, but this guy is far from smart…

While I am sorting a couple of things out behind the counter my colleague watches this guy walk up and get a tub of ice cream and walk out of sight between the aisles. He goes to leave the store a couple minutes later and my colleague pipes up:

Colleague: “Excuse me, sir, are you going to buy that ice cream?”

Shoplifter: “What ice cream?”

Colleague: “The tub of cookies and cream that you have in your carrier bag.”

There’s a pause and the shoplifter looks like a deer in headlights, then my colleague points at the bag, which is obviously bulging and semi-translucent, so you can clearly see the tub of ice-cream, which is how he can tell the flavour.

It was priceless watching him sheepishly put it back and slouching off like a scolded child.

My best friend of ten years is six months pregnant. Due to the current health crisis, among other reasons, we have not been able to catch up in person since April. I do crochet and embroidery as a hobby and have spent my free time over the last two or three months making a baby blanket, which is basically the baby’s name embroidered among stars and planets, etc.

My best friend and I are catching up in a coffee shop that’s halfway between our respective houses, for the first time in months, and I have given her the blanket for the baby. We’ve just sat down to enjoy our cuppas and a chat when we hear a woman’s voice.

Woman: “Um, excuse me, how much is that blanket?”

Best Friend: “Oh, [My Name] made it for me! It’s for my—”

Woman: *Rudely* “How much?”

Best Friend: “Um… what? It’s not for sale.”

Me: “I made it for my niece; it’s a gift—”

Woman: “I asked you HOW MUCH?” *Raises her voice* “I don’t understand why you can’t just answer me! So rude!”

Me: “Look, the blanket isn’t for sale! You can’t have it! So can you please leave us alone?”

Woman: *Gives us both a death glare* “F****** RUDE!”

She turned to walk away and we thought that was the end of it. Nope: quicker than either of us could react, she snatched the blanket off the table and made a run for the door!

Lucky for us, she tried to pull a push door and slammed head first into it, losing her balance and landing square on her backside. I grabbed the blanket out of her hands before she could react, and she started screaming about theft and assault and calling me every name in the book. At this point, I was worried she was going to have an aneurysm with how hard she was shrieking.

Even better, the cafe had security tapes and the barista had seen the woman snatch the blanket.

Cops were called, charges were filed — she spat on me and you bet I’m booking her for it — my best friend got her blanket, and I finally got a story to post on here!

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It is a pleasant day and my mothers group and I have taken our kids to the park. We’re on our way back to the house for lunch when we come across a stray dog which is determined to rumble with my dog.

With no owner in sight, we manage to separate the dogs, get back to my house, calm the dog down, and put him in the garage with some water.

I start messaging the number on the dog’s collar.

Me: “Hi! My name’s [My Name]. I found your dog on [Road] in [Town]. He’s okay. We just have him in the garage having a drink of water.”

Reply: “Which one?”

I express to my friends that that was not quite the kind of response I was expecting, having found their family pet, but I continue.

Me: “His collar says his name is Jesse. He’s black and white.”

Reply: “Okay.”

I talk again with my friends about the weird reply and they all egg me on to just call the pound and tell the owner to go there. I think about it but I’m kind of intrigued now, and I want the best for the dog, so I keep going.

Me: “When do you think you can come and collect him?”

Reply: “I’m not sure.”

Again, my friends think this was a ridiculous response and start looking up the numbers for animal control when my phone rings from an unknown number.

Me: “Hello?”

Woman: “Hi! I am so, so sorry. I’m the owner of the dog you found. I left my phone at home today and my twelve-year-old was answering the messages. She just called me and read the conversation out. I’m so sorry; you must think us very rude. I’m just leaving work at [Location] now to come and collect the dog. Is that okay? Thank you so much for looking after him!”

She arrived soon after and collected her dog and gave me a box of chocolates. She had a sulky looking pre-teen in the car with her who looked like she had just gotten a bollocking. Poor kid.

I’m a member of the choir volunteering my help before the concert, but I’m not actually part of the front of house staff, as I’ll be on stage during the concert itself.

It’s about an hour before the concert starts, and the front of house staff are still inside the hall finishing their safety briefing. The bar is ready to serve people and has some seats, so as there are a few customers already waiting, we open the main doors. I’m sent to the entrance to the ticket sales/collections desks to stop any customers coming through.

Me: “I’m afraid we’re not quite open for tickets yet, but the bar is just down there if you’d like a drink or somewhere to sit down.”

Grumpy Man: “Why did you open the doors if you’re not ready to sell tickets? That’s so unprofessional!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but the front of house staff haven’t finished their briefing. We opened the doors because the bar is open.”

Grumpy Man: “It’s what you’d expect from a tiny country town, not in the city!”

My “boss,” the choir president, comes up behind me.

Boss: “They’re finishing the safety briefing, which we have to have. It will only be a couple of minutes.”

Grumpy Man: “You can’t expect people to pay good money if you have this kind of amateur communication skills. It’s completely ridiculous.”

The hall doors open and the front of house staff come out and go to the ticket desks.

Me: “Tickets are now available if you’d like to come through.”

I still have no idea why he was so offended. It was cold and raining outside; most people would have liked to come into the lobby.

I volunteer to help with ticket sales for my choir, and I am dealing with customer complaints before the concert starts. A woman comes up to me with a complaint about her ticket.

Customer: “When I phoned up to book a ticket, I specifically asked for a balcony seat, but the one I’ve been given is in the stalls. I have neck problems; I can’t possibly sit in the stalls.”

Me: “I’m very sorry about that. I’ll exchange it for a seat in the balcony now. How about this one?”

I offer her a seat in the middle of the balcony, though towards the back as all the seats in front have already been sold.

Customer: “No, no, I don’t want that one. I want to sit right at the front near the orchestra. In the ‘AA’ section.”

Me: “We don’t actually sell those seats, because they’re right around to the side and you won’t hear a good balance of the music.”

Customer: “I’ve sat there before and I like it. I’m not sitting anywhere else.”

Me: “If that’s what you want, ma’am…”

I wrote “Sit in AA 64” on her ticket, initialled it, and sent her up to the balcony. She paid a premium price for a seat we don’t sell, even further round the balcony than the cheaper seats, and went upstairs smiling.