I was once involved in a government review of an engineering requirements document for a Department of Defense contract. Part of the document covered the requirements for post-test analysis. This basically amounted to listing the data that would be gathered during the test and how it would be presented in a report to be used to evaluate how well the system worked. The following conversation ensued.

Government Rep: “This isn’t what I want to see for test evaluation.”

Company Rep: “Well, what do you want to see?”

Government Rep: “You’re supposed to tell us what we’ll be able to see.”

Company Rep: “Well, we have, and you’ve said it isn’t what you want to see, so we need to know what you want to see.”

Government Rep: “You’re supposed to tell us what we’ll be able to see.”

This repeated several times, with no end to the loop in sight.

Me: “If you know this isn’t what you want to see, then you must have an idea about what you do want to see.”

Government Rep: “I don’t know what I want to see, but I know it isn’t this.”

Me: “We’ve presented what we think you’ll need to see to evaluate the system. If you can’t tell us what about this is inadequate, it will be impossible for us to fix it.”

At this point, he returned to repeating his assertion that what we’d presented wasn’t what he wanted but that it was our job to tell him what he’d be able to see, and we were expected to provide him with the information he would find adequate for that purpose, without him telling us what he thought that would be.

I’ve been working at the front desk of a small camping ground for about two months when I experience one of the most flustering interactions I’ve had with a guest. Luckily, he is cheerful and understanding, but he speaks very quickly.

Me: “Welcome to [Campground]. Checking in?”

Guest: “I’m doing well, thanks.”

Me: “How are you?”

Guest: “How are you?”

Me: “Good. How can I help you?”

Guest: “Yes, I’m checking in.”

I can’t find his name on our list of arrivals. He tells me that his name won’t be on the list because he doesn’t have a reservation. At this point, I pause the conversation to apologize for how confusing the whole situation has somehow become. He also apologizes for the confusion.

Me: “How many adults will be staying? And how many camping units will you have?”

Guest: “It’s me and another guy in a teeny-tiny tent!”

He proceeds to stare at me pointedly for a few moments. There’s nothing strange about sharing a tent until you describe it like that!

We get into a decent groove of me asking him questions for the reservation and him answering. I’m feeling pretty proud of my speed-typing skills, until:

Me: “I’ll need to grab your home address. What city are you from?”

Guest: “Fordury.”

Me: “Could you repeat that?”

Guest: “Forduary.”

Me: “Sorry?”

Guest: “It’s near Niagara Falls so you can just put that. But it’s really Ford Ury. It’s two words.”

Me: “Ford Urie?”

Guest: “Ford Eery.”

Me: “Fort Erie?”

Guest: “Yes!“

Why it didn’t occur to me to ask him to spell it out like I usually would have, I don’t know. But luckily, this guest was cheerful, patient, and understanding, which isn’t something I can say for some of the other guests!

I used to work as a nanny. One evening after the mom got home, I was chatting with her about the kid’s day as she poured herself a glass of wine. Suddenly, she gasped and jumped back from the counter. I thought she’d seen a big spider and looked around for a glass to catch it in. Then, I noticed that the bag of chips near her wine was rustling. The house got some big spiders in it sometimes, but none that big.

We sprang into action: the girl I watched ushered my toddler out of the room. I handed my baby to the mom. The dog… had an accident. I grabbed a blanket from the nearby couch and shut the door and went looking for the source of the rustling. I stepped on something squishy and looked down, fearing I’d just killed some small animal. It was “just” the dog’s mess. (Yay?)

Then, a blur of movement! Carefully, quietly, I peeked under the couch and the table. Another blur of movement! This time, I caught a tiny, furry animal in the blanket. I carefully opened a little bit of the blanket to see what it was. 

And that was the day I learned that flying squirrels live in the woods of the Seattle area! I carried the bundle to the porch, opened the blanket, and we all got to watch the little creature jump off the blanket and glide away into the trees.

Ten years later, a flying squirrel remains the most unusual animal I’ve seen at any job.

At my hotel, we can give out cribs upon request. The cribs are the ones with the high white bars that kind of look like baby jails. They are also on wheels, which makes sense if you think about it, but I never have before this.

One night, my supervisor and I are at the front desk and a couple gets off the elevator. They are wheeling a crib — with a baby sleeping inside — through the hallway. We both just kind of have a long pause because we have never seen anything like this, nor did we think it was possible.

The couple is heading toward the restaurant, so my supervisor decides to go after them, thinking that they won’t get past the restaurant entrance. But she quickly realizes that between us and the entrance are elevators to the parking garage, so she takes off running to see where these people are going.

It turns out the couple was hungry and didn’t want to pay the upcharge for room service, nor did they want to wake up their baby, so they just wheeled the crib down to eat at the restaurant.

I work at a grocery store during high school. One of my jobs is to bag ice in the back, bring it to the front, and stock it in the ice freezers for sale.

A customer comes up to me as I’m wheeling a big cart full of ice bags.

Customer: “Excuse me. Is this ice cold?”

Me: “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

Customer: “I mean is it fresh? Is this ice fresh?”

Me: “It’s clean and comes straight from our suppliers.”

Customer: “No, not clean! Fresh means cold! Is it fresh?!”

Me: “It’s as cold and fresh as ice can be, sir.”

Customer: “It had better be!”

He grabbed some, squeezed it a little like one would some produce, narrowed his eyes at me a little, and wandered off, leaving me confused.

Related:
Their Demands Cut No Ice, Part 2
Their Demands Cut No Ice