Last year, my doctor’s office was bought out by a larger corporation. It really didn’t change much for me except that I had to fill out all new paperwork with the name of the new country-wide company name at the top.

A few months ago, my sister (who lives in a completely different state) started a new job in health insurance. We are both on our parents’ cell phone plan, and our phone numbers are the same except for the last digit; mine ends in five, hers in six.

About a week ago, I got a text message with my sister’s first name, asking me to leave a review for my OBGYN. I thought it was a weird coincidence and sent a screenshot of it to her for a laugh, figuring someone forgot to clear the name field before sending the text.

Then, I went to go check in at my appointment today.

Receptionist: “Hello! Name, please?”

Me: “[My Name].”

Receptionist: “I don’t see you in our system. Do you have an appointment today?”

Me: “Yes, I just scheduled it last week.”

Receptionist: “Okay, can you spell your last name? Maybe I got it wrong.”

I spell my last name, and the receptionist is silent.

Me: “Something wrong?”

Receptionist: “I don’t have anyone with that name. Are you a new patient?”

Me: “No, I’ve been coming to you for ten years. Your office has delivered both my children!”

Receptionist: “Okay, let me try searching by your phone number. Maybe it’s just not recognizing your name for some reason.”

I give my number, which ends in five.

Receptionist: “Okay, that phone number shows up, but it is for a different name. A [Sister]?”

Me: “I got a text from you with that name, but I thought it was just a fluke!”

Receptionist: “Okay, do you live at [address]?”

Me: “Sure do!”

Receptionist: “Okay, that address and phone number are connected to a [Sister] with the last name as [Our Last Name, mispronounced].”

Me: “That’s my sister! She shouldn’t be anywhere on my paperwork! She lives in a completely different state!”

The receptionist gets a deer-in-the-headlights look.

Receptionist: “I don’t know how this happened! I am so sorry!”

She immediately changed the name in my chart back to the right one, and I texted my sister to let her know to check with her office about her information, but seriously, what are the odds?

Content Warning: Injury

I work in directory inquiries.

Caller: “I need the number for a local pharmacy.”

Me: “I’ll just get that for you.”

Caller: “Please hurry. I managed to lose a couple of fingers and there’s quite a lot of blood.”

Me: “Ma’am! Hang up right now and dial 911!”

Caller: “Do you know how long it took to call you with three fingers?! I’m not redialing!”

Me: “Ma’am, I thoroughly recommend that you—”

Caller: “Oh, wait, I’ve just recounted. I only lost the one finger; I still have four! I guess I can dial 911 after all.” *Click*

I have never wanted and also not wanted to have more context ever before or since.

Client: “The word ‘Blog’ sounds too alien.” *Does an impression with his arms* “‘Glip glorp zoop blog, I am a martian,’ if you know what I mean.”

Me: “Um, I guess I do, sure.”

Client: “There’s no humanity in it! I want people to associate our company with humanness.”

Me: “So, you want to remove the blog page?”

Client: “No, keep it. But can we call it our ‘Feelings And Opinions Space,’ instead?”

Me: “Sure. The only thing is, it’s on a ‘Blogspot’ subdomain.”

Client: “Just change that to a ‘FeelingsAndOpinionsSpot’ sub-dome-whatever. Easy, see? You just have to start thinking like me!”

Me: “…”

I have just been promoted to a customer service manager position at a large chain retailer. On my first 5:00 am shift, I am counting the money at one of the registers before it opens when an elderly man in a long coat approaches.

Man: “I need to buy this.”

He puts a gallon jug of juice on the register.

Me: “Hello. I’m sorry, this register is closed right now, but there are two others just behind you that are open.”

Man: “I need to buy this.”

Me: “No problem. One of the ladies behind you can help.”

Man: “Give me my g**d*** juice!”

He grabs the jug and slams it on the counter with enough force that the lid pops off, juice going everywhere. The man then splashes juice on me and spins around, still sending juice flying, before stepping back and opening his coat. He is wearing fishnet leggings underneath. Nothing else.

Man: “F****** w***e!”

He throws the jug at me and sprints out of the store. I stand there, covered in juice, trying to figure out what exactly just happened. One of the other customer service managers comes up.

Me: “Uh… there was a… a man in fishnets and—”

Manager: *Casually* “Oh, yeah. He comes in sometimes. We just let him have the juice so he leaves.” *Looks me over* “Gonna be a long day for you. I gotta go take [Child] to school, but [Manager #2] will be in at 7:00 am.”

I asked my superiors if I could go home and change, even if I had to wait until the next manager came in. They said no; I should have avoided the conflict entirely and I had to work in my juice-dried clothes all day as a lesson on customer satisfaction.

I quit the same day.

My family and friends enjoy fast food, and one particular burger place is a staple. There are several locations around us, but the most convenient one is just up the street. That location is cursed. Random things always happen whenever we go there. I once had a gentleman knock on my window while I was ordering and ask if I liked my car. You get the drift.

My girlfriend and I arrive at around 8:00 pm one night to purchase food. It is right around a specific Irish holiday, and the restaurant is selling a milkshake that is green and minty. I order one to try it as I have not had one in a very long time.

When we pull up to the window to pay, the cashier repeats the order back to us. She stops at the milkshake and exclaims:

Cashier: “UGH, you drink this? It is disgusting!”

Me: *A bit taken aback* “Not yet, but I wanted to try it. Is it that bad?”

Cashier: “I drank a shot of the syrup earlier and it was disgusting.”

Me: *Stunned* “That is concentrated mint! Of course it is going to taste like crap.”

Cashier: *Handing me our food* “Oh. I guess that makes sense. Maybe I will have to try it normal.”

I just shook my head and left.

The shake tasted like crap, by the way, which is odd because I love mint.