(We supply recreational and reenactment weaponry. Most of it is foam of varying density, as well as nylon and rattan for martial arts. We can provide metal weaponry with proof of permit. It’s Saturday and technically we’re not open. There’s even a gate that’s meant to be closed, but I’m on site cleaning up and must have accidentally left it unlocked. The front door opens and in walks a man with two children under the age of ten.)

Me: “Hi there. Uh… We’re technically closed to the public today. Did you book an appointment?”

(The two children immediately rush in and start picking things up and trying to stab each other, squealing each time they do.)

Customer: “Oh, I was just at the rec centre down the street with the kids, and a friend told me this store was here, so we thought we’d have a look.”

Me: “Well, I suppose you’re here already.”

(I spend the next twenty minutes explaining the different types and brands, including two ranges specifically meant for children, while the kids run around picking everything up, screaming about how it’s not real, and then throwing it on the floor.)

Customer: “And what if I wanted some metal swords?”

Me: “We can get those for you. We don’t keep them on site, because kids come into the showroom regularly and it would be a hazard, considering they’re prone to picking things up and swinging them about. But we can get them in. You do, of course, need to provide us with your license or proof of permit and make an appointment so we can ensure minors aren’t present, and we need to make sure you have the proper safety gear at home.”

Child #1: “But I want one now!”

Customer: “And what if I want to get some for the kids?”

Me: “Then I would refuse to sell to you, because they’re clearly underage and can’t legally have one.”

Customer: “Yeah, but look at them; they really want some!”

(At this point one of the children is on the ground, howling in protest and being stabbed in the chest repeatedly by the other.)

Me: “Yeah, no. Absolutely not.”

Customer: “So, what am I doing here letting you waste my time for?”

Me: “I have no idea, sir. As I said when you came in, we’re meant to be closed today.”

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I have a day off so I wasn’t planning on doing much other than sleeping in. At about 9:30 am I get a call from my dad.)

Dad: “Hey, sweetie, are you doing anything at the moment?”

Me: *lying in bed* “No, not anything important. What’s up?”

Dad: “The coolant hose has come loose on the car again. Could I get you to come pick me up to get some more coolant?”

Me: “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

(I go and get him, chatting about inconsequential things, asking about each others’ weekends. We get the coolant and we are heading back to his car. This happens about half an hour after I pick him up.)

Dad: “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling that great this morning… About an hour ago I started getting chest pain and was thinking I should go to the hospital, but I’m feeling okay now so maybe I should just go home.”

Me: *being skeptical in my head* “Nah, if you were worried, Dad, I’d go up there. I will go with you if you’d like. I’ll stay with you. It can get kinda boring up there by yourself.”

Dad: “Oh, well, only if you’re not doing anything. It might be a good idea.”

Me: “Sure thing; it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Dad: “Only if you’re sure you’re not doing anything

Me: “I’m sure; I will meet you up there.”

(I follow him up only to find a parking space at the bottom of the hill, so we walk up to the top and get admitted into ED. Long story short, Dad had had a minor heart attack, three in fact, the last one as we were walking up the hill, and he just wanted to go home. I spent five hours with him, him asking me not to tell any family members because he didn’t want to stress them out. Mum nearly had a heart attack herself when she found out, mainly because he waited five hours to tell her! Please, please, people — get it checked out sooner rather than later!)

(A customer walks into the shop and sees all three staff members serving customers. He starts to whistle at someone working in the back, who is also serving, to get their attention. The staff member ignores him since they are already with a customer. A senior staff member finishes up and addresses the whistling customer, who is trying to get his attention now with more whistling, no “hello” or “excuse me” or anything.)

Staff: “Do I look like a dog?”

Customer: “What?”

Staff: “Do. I. Look. Like. A. Dog?”

Customer: “No, but I am in a rush.”

(The manager has overheard everything and comes out to see the customer.)

Manager: “Hey, buddy. We’ll get you taken care of, but first, go outside, and then come back in and treat my guys like they’re human beings. You don’t treat my staff like animals.”

Customer: “You’re joking, right?”

Manager: “No. My guys will not serve you until you do. No one serves him until he comes back in.”

(The customer walks out. The staff expect him to keep walking, but he comes back in.)

Customer: “Hi, sorry about before. I want to place an order.”

(I work at checkout in a department store. Our returns desk is at the back of the store, something I must frequently tell customers. One day I have a man come up to my counter with two red singlets and a receipt.)

Customer: “Hi, I bought this shirt the other day, but it’s the wrong size so I’d like to swap it for this one.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but all exchanges must be done at the returns desk at the back of the store.”

Customer: “Just leave it.”

(He threw both shirts at me in disgust and stormed off. I was left wondering if he knew he’d just let $15 go to waste.)

(At the end of a visit patients return to the front desk to settle accounts. Our EFT Machine likes to be difficult sometimes so I do as much as I can on it so the patient doesn’t get confused.)

Me: “Okay, was that cheque, savings, or credit?”

Patient: “Credit.”

(I select credit and put the EFT Machine in front of them.)

Me: “Pin, please.”

(I look away. After hearing only four beeps, each button pressed beeps — four for the pin and one for enter — I go ahead and visually see only three buttons of the pin were entered. I press the yellow button once to erase it.)

Me: “Pin again, please. The buttons tend to stick.”

(Again I hear only four beeps and visually check. I repeat pressing the yellow button once.)

Me: “Once more, please. Really press down.”

(I hear four beeps again, but before I can press the yellow button the patient notices and presses it three times quickly. The machine makes an error beep and a big cross comes on the screen that cancels the payment.)

Me: “Okay. We only need to press that once. Let’s start again.”

(Little things like this that tend to be unnecessary mistakes and use more time than it should. Another example:)

Me: “Was that cheque, savings, or credit?”

(I notice on the screen it says debit, but debit and credit can be selected as the same thing. Debit cards are used in place of credit cards when ordering online and such. The patient looks at me wide-eyed.)

Patient: “I don’t have credit!”

(They panic faster than I can explain. It was a slip of the tongue, habitual, and not really a fuss.)

Patient: “Don’t put it on credit! It’s not credit!”

(I internally sighed.)