I’m an assistant manager at a huge family-owned liquor store in Texas that has now been around for sixty years. I have to call out on a Saturday because of family issues, so I’m not there to deal with this issue firsthand. Since we legally have to be closed in my state on Sunday, I don’t hear about this until the following Monday.

Cashier: “So, what happened with the crotch goblin theft?”

Me: “The what now?!“

Cashier: “Oh, didn’t [Store Manager] call you and let you know?”

Me: “Obviously not!”

Cashier: “Yeah, turns out we caught some lady that was shoplifting after the fact, but we couldn’t prove anything at the time because she shoved the bottle of [Expensive Tequila] under her dress and up herself and walked right out! We didn’t catch it until [Store Manager] saw it on camera!”

I can understand shoplifting food, medicine, baby formula, or something like that, but there’s no reason you need that tequila THAT badly.

My radiator is leaking, so the plumber comes by to fix it. It’s a small fix, but he does need to turn the water off for a bit. As he’s doing that, he notices that our boiler is also leaking. He informs my housemate and me about it, but unfortunately, he is not allowed to fix it because we are under contract with the energy company that installed it; only they are allowed to do anything with it (for insurance, liability, warranty, etc. reasons).

The plumber fixes the radiator leak he was originally asked to fix and leaves the hot water off to prevent further leakage. He advises us to just call the energy company and tell them we have a leak and no hot water, and they’ll probably be able to send someone by today to fix it.

He leaves, and I call the energy company as advised. Thankfully, they’re already in the office. (Why, universe, can I only ever get appointments at too-early-to-think o’clock?) I explain the situation to [Employee #1].

Employee #1: “All right. What’s your zip code and house number?”

I give the requested information.

Employee #1: “Oh, I’m sorry, but that contract was cancelled several years ago.”

Now, it might be early, and I’m very much not a morning person, but I’m still sure that can’t be right because I vaguely recall helping my housemate arrange a visit from this very company to inspect that boiler not too long ago.

Me: “That can’t be right. Your company came by for an inspection not too long ago.”

Employee #1: “Well, the contract was cancelled in 2020.”

It’s now 2022. I’m thinking, “It can’t be that long ago, can it?” But my memory sucks, so it might have been.

I confess my confusion to [Employee #1], who curtly repeats that he can’t do anything for me and advises me to call my landlord and ask him what gives. I can’t think of anything else, either, so that’s what I do.

Or, that’s what I try to do. Have I mentioned that it is way too early? It’s too early for my landlord to be in the office, apparently. I decide to write him an email, instead, explaining what’s going on and asking him to call me back ASAP. While I’m writing the email, my housemate is stumbling around like a zombie, getting ready for work. Halfway through the email, the metaphorical lightbulb pops up above my head.

Me: *To my housemate* “I think I know what the problem is!”

Housemate: “Huh? What?”

Me: “Wrong address!”

Housemate: “Ohhh, yeaaah. F***!”

Please remember that both of us have been up for several hours already and normal business hours haven’t started yet, something which neither of us is used to, so I think my slow thinking speed and her lack of coherent speech can be forgiven.

Here’s the thing: our (rather old) house is a little weird. The ground floor is separate from the other floors. (I’ve heard that it used to be a bakery and was converted into an apartment.) So, at street level, there are two doors right next to each other. One door is for the ground floor and has the regular house number. The door next to it opens up to a staircase leading up to the upper two floors and has the house number with an addition next to it — think #14 and #14A right next to each other.

I live on the first floor, as does my other housemate, who is on holiday and missing out on all this fun. The housemate mentioned in this story has the attic all to herself.

However, that’s not the end of it. Some years ago, an eccentric employee of the city decided that, because both floors have a kitchen and bathroom, and because the attic has a door in front of the stairs leading up to it that can be locked, the attic is, in fact, a completely separate apartment in need of its own address. This is despite the fact that the attic has no access to the street itself; you can only get there through the first-floor rooms. But it happened anyway, so now the attic is technically #14B, though we tend to forget that since we still share things like a front door, washing machine, Internet, and so on.

So, back to our story. I think I’ve figured out what went wrong. When [Employee #1] asked for the house number, I gave him #14A without thinking because that’s where I live. BUT since the boiler is in the attic, it is TECHNICALLY located at #14B. As I said, it’s too early to think, but that would certainly explain things. I call back and explain to [Employee #2] what happened.

Me: “I’m really sorry; it’s my fault. I mixed up the house numbers.”

Employee #2: “That’s all right. It happens. What is the correct house number?”

Me: “It’s #14B.”

Employee #2: “Hmm, that’s odd. We have no records at all for that house number.”

Me: “You don’t?”

Now I’m thinking, “What is going on here? I thought I solved it!”

Employee #2: “No, sorry. We have contracts with #14 and #14A, but not #14B.”

Cue a record-scratch in my brain.

Me: “Wait, what? You do have a contract with #14A? Your colleague earlier told me it was cancelled two years ago.”

[Employee #2] sounds as surprised as I am.

Employee #2: “No? There’s no record of cancellation here. The last thing on file is an inspection of the boiler last February.”

I’ll admit, I’m angry, but right now, confusion is winning out, and regardless, it is NOT this woman’s fault that her colleague made a mistake… or whatever happened. So, there’s no belligerence on my part.

Me: “Would it be possible to have someone come look at it?”

Employee #2: “Yes, of course. When are you home?”

Me: “I’m home all day.”

Employee #2: “All right, then. I’ll arrange for one of our mechanics to come by today.”

Me: “Thank you very much!”

Employee #2: “You’re welcome. Have a nice day.”

Me: “Likewise. Goodbye.”

The mechanic arrived about two hours later. My housemate had gone off to work but left the door open to allow us access. When I told my housemate about everything, both of us were left wondering, “What on Earth was up with [Employee #1]? Computer error or something else?”

Years ago, during my time at a bookstore, I was staffing the information desk on a busy weekend afternoon. In the brief lull between customers, the phone rang.

Caller: “Hello. Do you carry parenting books?”

Me: “Yes, sir, we do.”

Caller: “Good, because I have a very special parenting matter. You see, I have become the guardian of four children after their parents — my best friends, my soul’s companions — died within weeks of each other of three different types of cancer apiece…”

I looked up to see someone approaching the information desk and smiled apologetically at them.

Me: “Yes, sir, was there something in particular—”

Caller: “…and of course, all four children are heartbroken, so much so that their psychic powers are developing apace…”

Me: “Their psychic powers?”

The customer who had come up to the desk lifted their eyebrows.

Caller: “…and I worry that they may bring unquiet spirits to haunt the house, or that they might use their telekinesis to destroy items in their grief.”

Me: “Unquiet spirits? Sir, this is not—”

Caller: “The oldest is a teenage girl, and I think she may have been impregnated by one of the spirits — which reminds me, do you carry home birthing kits? We don’t trust hospitals anymore.”

Me: “Sir, we do not have parenting books for psychic children, nor do we carry home birthing kits.”

Caller: “This is terrible customer service, and me, a grieving adoptive parent! Get me your manager!”

Me: “One moment, sir.”

I put him on hold and looked at the customer at the desk.

Me: “I am so sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

Customer: “Oh, no, don’t be sorry. I want to hear how this ends. Is one of the children named Carrie?”

The manager on duty arrived. I apologized in advance and then helped other customers while the manager was on the phone trying to placate this man. Eventually, they hung up.

Manager: “Well, he was due.”

Me: “What?”

Manager: “That man calls once a year, always with the most outlandish stories about his adoptive children. This year, they’re psychic. Last year, they were magical Wiccan children who might have been fathered by a god on Halloween. The year before that, they were part-alien kids who teleported out from under an eighteen-wheeler!”

Customer: “I think you all should write a book about him.”

Manager: “We refuse to give him the satisfaction. Thank you for your patience.”

Customer: “This was more fun than I expected to have today. Can I buy you both a coffee?”

So, Mr. Guardian of Psychic-Magical-Alien Kids, thanks for my mocha that afternoon!

As supply chains become more and more broken, we are experiencing more problems with deliveries and orders, as you would expect. What I find surprising is how companies that used to be really great are now less than optimal. One of our major suppliers has been particularly troublesome.

I sent an email to this supplier to place a “special order” for items not normally carried that would have to be shipped in from overseas. We were given a week during which we could expect the delivery, during which the package did not come. An email was sent to find out a new ETA.

Supplier: “The package was shipped, but the courier got lost and didn’t call anyone.”

Still? Is he out in the woods burning the product somewhere to keep warm? Or does somebody know where the courier — and our package — is now?

A flurry of emails followed.

Me: “Okay, so do we have a new ETA?”

Supplier: “He got lost with the truck.”

Me: “Right. So, does that mean the truck is gone forever? Should we just order this again? Or is the original package going to show up at some point?”

The supplier responded with a copy of our invoice for the product that was lost.

It wasn’t until Accounts Receivable was contacted and told that this (very expensive) invoice wouldn’t be paid — and why — that someone decided it was probably important that we still got our product.

It’s kind of a running joke in my family that [Sister] is a reality warper. Her luck is, quite simply, absurd. Sometimes, it feels like the world is bending over backward to accommodate her.

I’ve got a long list of events I can rattle off to prove her luck, but that’s for another time. This is a conversation that happened at the start of this year.

Sister: “I want to get a new gaming PC. Can you build one for me?”

Friend: “Sure thing. But maybe now isn’t such a good time? There’s a shortage of GPUs at the moment, and so they now cost a bomb. At your budget, the GPU would eat up nearly half of it alone. We’d have to really skimp on the rest of the computer.”

Sister: “Okay. I’m gonna have to study for my finals, anyway, so you don’t have to build it until summer.”

Friend: “But the parts…”

Sister: *Waving dismissively* “I’m sure it’ll sort itself out by summer.”

Me: “Sis, that’s not likely to happen.”

Sister: *Rolling her eyes* “All right, fine.” *Takes a deep breath* “I, [Sister], wish, here and now, that the GPU price would go down by the time my final exams are over.”

She gave us a baleful look.

Sister: “Problem solved.”

Fast forward a few months into 2022, and suddenly, Crypto crashes, causing cryptocurrency miners to start selling their GPUs, driving GPU prices down right around the time [Sister] is wrapping up her exams and has told [Friend] to start ordering parts.

Two weeks later, [Friend], [Sister], and I are sitting down in my room, each holding a brand new GPU. We found someone online who was offering a buy-one-get-two-free deal, I kid you not.

Me: “Well, that was stupid. Even by the standards of your luck, this was particularly egregious.”

Friend: *Disbelievingly* “A trillion-dollar crash. I lost years of investments — five thousand dollars — all because you wanted GPUs to be cheaper.”

He shakes his head.

Friend: “You must have burnt an entire lifetime’s worth of luck with that.”

Sister: “Nah, I’ve still got plenty left in the tank. Mark my words.”

Another two weeks later, [Sister] went to Las Vegas with her friends and won fifteen thousand bucks while playing cards. Yeah, her luck is still going strong.