A cat showed up on my front porch one day and invited itself in, going right for the sunny spot on the top of my couch. I set it up in my bathroom with what I had on hand and reached out to my township through Facebook. 

Me: “Hi, neighbors. Does anyone recognize this cat? I think it’s a fixed male, but I didn’t get a long look. He invited himself into my house today and is currently in my bathroom. I will take him for a microchip scan when the vet opens on Monday and go from there if no one can provide proof of ownership.”

The comments are the same replies people seem to put on every post. “Prayers it finds its way home!” “So sad!” “I hope the family sees this!” But there’s nothing that gives me any real answers. Then, this neighbor chimes in, sending me a private message. 

Neighbor: “Why are you trying to rehome that cat?”

Me: “Oh, sorry, I’m not trying to rehome him. He actually showed up today. Someone may be missing him, and I would hate to be the person standing in the way of reuniting a pet with their family.”

Neighbor: “Okay, no need to get an attitude about it. I’m just asking a question.”

Me: “I wasn’t.”

Neighbor: “Yeah, you were. All I did was ask why you’re trying to rehome your cat, and you act like this.”

Me: “It’s not my cat. It showed up today, and I am trying to find out where it came from.”

Neighbor: “You can stop being rude to me.”

Me: “I wasn’t, but I can stop talking to you.”

I put my phone down and walked away. He kept going in this vein for several more messages before blocking me. I could have blocked him, but I decided to just let him talk to himself and burn out whatever was bothering him. I never did find the cat’s family, so he now lives with me.

I work in a hotel. A woman calls me on the phone asking about our rooms and the suites. She sounds interested in the suite and says she will be in shortly.

A couple of hours go by, and she comes in to get the room. Immediately, I smell a big whiff of marijuana on her, in our 100% non-smoking hotel. Red flag #1. She verifies the rates again and decides to just get the regular room instead.

Once I give her the rate, she begins pulling out cash. Red flag #2.

When I ask for her ID, it is a local from a few minutes away. Red flag #3.

Her ID is also just a state ID, not a driver’s license. Red flag #4.

She then pulls out a Cash App card for the deposit. Red flag #5.

The Cash App card declines, and she says it’s because it’s a child’s cash card, and all of her cards are locked. Red flag #6.

She then asks if she goes and buys a prepaid card, can it be used as a deposit? I haven’t been told any rules against this, but I’ve also never seen any guests do it. So, I’m gonna call this red flag #7.

She then doubles back and asks if I can type in her “sister’s” card manually. I say no, I need the physical card. Red flag #7.5. I only give this half of a red flag because I technically could go through the credit card authorization form process, but I am already tired of this person and don’t want to waste my time.

I’m now sitting waiting for her to come back with her prepaid card. It really feels against the rules. It’s essentially the same as paying a cash deposit — which is against the rules — but my managers never told me no. Maybe they will after this time.

I’m also putting her on the first floor to discourage any crazy activities.

While I was writing this story, the woman came back, got her cash, and said she couldn’t get a prepaid card or something, so they’ll probably just try a different hotel. Red flag #8!

That’s eight (and a half) red flags in one check-in! Thankfully, she just left. What a possible headache.

I was laid off before Thanksgiving, so I am in a tailspin to find a new job. I found a consulting group via LinkedIn and applied. A week later, I got an invite to interview. 

On the day of the interview, I headed over to their headquarters, and the greeter sat me down in a large conference room with no windows. I was waiting for maybe twenty minutes. Then, I heard a knock, and a lady stepped in. This woman had the lowest-cut shirt I’ve ever seen in a corporate setting. I’m a woman, too, so I definitely understand pushing the boundaries of BS dress codes, but this lady had 75% of her ta-tas out. I was shocked, but at the same time, I was telling myself, “It’s pretty cool if they’re this lax about office attire.”

She introduced herself as the head of Human Resources. We exchanged pleasantries, and she started asking me typical questions about myself (where I studied, where I’m from, etc.) for about fifteen minutes. Then:

Head Of HR: “All righty, you ready to start the interview?”

Thinking I was already in the interview, I agreed with some surprise. Then, there was another knock on the door. It was a young man in his early thirties (definitely much younger than the HR lady). He introduced himself as the Vice President. I sat there thinking, “Oh, wow, I’m the same age as the VP.”

He started talking about the company, and after another fifteen minutes, he asked if I was (again) ready to start the interview. Again, with some surprise knowing I’d been here for an hour, I said yes.

Vice President: “I see you studied public health. I hope you understand that while we are a healthcare-facing company, we don’t necessarily ‘help’ people.”

Me: *Flabbergasted and shyly* “Oh, okay. I understand.” 

Vice President: “To start off, I have a question for you. Oil companies that’ve experienced the most fines tend to have the least environmental incidents (spills, etc.), while oil companies with little to no fines have more environmental incidents. Can you explain why the latter have been able to get away with it for so long?” 

Keep in mind… this was a HEALTHCARE CONSULTING GROUP. They had nothing to do with the oil industry. But at that point, I wouldn’t have been shocked if question two had been, “If you were to defraud the IRS, how would you do it?” 

I gave them sheepish answers to their questions (which all inexplicably had to do with evading government fines). At the end, I was definitely sure I wouldn’t be invited back… and deep down, I was fine with that. But to my surprise, they called me two days later for a second round. 

Against my better judgment, I accepted. I met with the same HR lady, now dressed like she was going to a nunnery after her shift with the most shapeless dress I’ve ever seen on a human. She welcomed me again.

Head Of HR: “Are you ready for the case study?”

Case study?! Literally nobody told me about a case study! We sat down in the same dungeon room as she administered it. To be honest, I had lost all interest at this point and was giving BS answers. I barely even remember the questions. I was completely disassociated.

At the end, they thank me for my time. This time for sure I absolutely knew I hadn’t gotten the job.

But then, they called me for a THIRD ROUND. I very politely declined on the phone, telling them I had been accepted at another job.

I hadn’t been. I am still jobless. But I’m not desperate, and this job threw every species of red flag in my face.

These days, I’m eating cereal at 3:00 pm, watching re-runs of “90 Day Fiancé”, and living off of my savings. And I’m okay with that.

I was probably the annoying customer in this story, but it still worked out well, I think.

My local chain bookshop has a “buy four, pay three” deal going on. As an avid reader, I naturally lap this up. Because my tastes are a little eclectic, the books I would like are not in stock at my closest location, so I order them from the shop’s online store and have them delivered to my home.

Among my selection is a volume in a series I already own several of, but I only realise I already own this particular volume when it arrives and I go to put it on my shelf. I check the shop’s policies on exchanges and returns, and it says I can return online orders at a brick-and-mortar location, and since I’m meeting a friend in town that day, I decide to do that.

I sort of regret this.

I also sort of don’t.

At the cash register, they tell me I need to go to the customer service desk as this was an online order. There’s no one at the desk, so I pull up the confirmation email while I wait. To make matters more complicated, I realise that this book was the one I received for free.

Someone finally arrives. She has trouble finding my order, so she asks for my name, address, etc. I offer repeatedly to show her the order number and billing number, but she barely acknowledges this, which I honestly find a little odd. After some back and forth, we decide that an exchange is probably the easiest option rather than a refund (which I’m more than okay with; you can never have enough books). The customer service person tells me that after I’ve picked up my replacement book, I can go to the cash register and get the exchange there.

I pick out a book and go to the cash register. The cashier, however, cannot find the book and even claims she can’t find the ISBN in or on the book (which is very bizarre, but okay). I’m sent back to the customer service desk.

Once there, I explain my predicament yet again, but the person there (a different one than the one from before) brushes me off and tells me I need to go to the pick-up desk upstairs. Okay?

I go upstairs. Three people are working there. The first I talk to hasn’t even heard of the deal. The next person is a trainee and asks the third person for help. At this point, I admit that I am getting a little short as my patience is fraying by having to repeatedly explain this (admittedly somewhat complicated) matter — that I received this book for free through a limited-time offer, realised I ordered the wrong thing, and was told I could exchange it for this other book. I’m even offering that we forget the whole thing, and I’ll go home and do the exchange/return online, but for some reason (stubbornness?), these two keep trying to do the exchange right then and there.

And here’s why I think the whole ordeal was worth it, after all. They find my order (easy as pie with the order number) but can’t find the book I’m trying to return in the system. I don’t know why; the ways of a point-of-sale system are unknowable to mortal man. They try to run the ISBN, which doesn’t work, either. They try to enter the book into the shop’s inventory, but it doesn’t show up.

Finally, the older worker shakes her head in frustration and asks the younger worker what price the book is listed for. She then does a manual return under “miscellaneous”, scans the other book I’d like, and hands it to me, telling me I’m all set. She even refunds me the difference in price — only a euro, but still!

I thank her from the bottom of my heart, wish her a very happy new year, and walk out with a new book and a skip in my step. Sometimes patience does pay off! 

To clarify, I was not asking her to go out of her way at all. I did my best to remain polite even through my frustration. I had the 1€ difference ready in my hand to pay and would gladly have accepted it if they’d told me there was nothing they could do and I should try online. They were just being nice, and I am very grateful they were.

I’m a rural tow truck driver. We’ve got a very small fleet: only three trucks total. Two are meant for cars, and one is meant to pick up semi trucks and their trailers.

My coworker was called out to pick up a minivan that had broken down on the highway. He went out to take a look at it, and it turned out that the driver of the minivan had accidentally driven it into the ditch when trying to get on the shoulder as the brakes had failed.

[Coworker] started winching the minivan back onto the shoulder so he could tow it, but he messed up the chain, it got caught on a stump, and he managed to break the winch assembly. Worse, he broke the winch assembly badly enough that it twisted the bed of his truck.

So, they called me. [Coworker]’s truck was still drivable, so he took the customer back to the mechanic. I got my truck out there to pick up the minivan, but while I was attaching the winch to the minivan, a pick-up with a trailer full of poorly secured junk came by the bend. A riding lawn mower fell off of the pick-up’s trailer and slammed into the side of my truck, breaking the driver’s side door shut and misaligning the steering wheel badly enough that I didn’t feel that it was safe to drive it.

I practically s*** my pants; if I had been in the driver’s seat, that could have killed me.

The pick-up drove on without stopping.

I called for the truck that could tow a semi (or a tow truck) to get both me and the minivan (which I winched out of the ditch while I was waiting).

While the heavy tow was slowing down to pull over and pick me up, a driver — later revealed by the police to be drunk — slammed into the back of it hard enough to break the rear axle.

That’s how all three of our trucks were taken out of commission by one tow. It was very embarrassing calling one of our rivals for a rescue.