I’ve just left work and am walking to the exit of the mall. Where I work, we don’t have uniforms. We’re allowed to wear whatever we want as long as the clothing is workplace appropriate and is of a certain colour code. In other words, it isn’t immediately obvious where I work just from the clothes I’m wearing, especially since I’ve now got my scarf and large winter coat on, as well as my mask.

I’m just reaching the doors to the mall when a man coming the other way looks at me and his eyes light up.

Man: “Oh, my God, hi! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Me: “…”

Man: “How have you been? You look incredible!”

At this point, the only conclusion I can come to is that he’s mistaking me for somebody else; I know for a fact that I’ve never seen this man before in my life. He’s addressing me as though we’re lifelong friends, his tone upbeat and enthusiastic, and I almost feel a little bad for a moment.

Me: “Um… I’m so sorry, but do I know you?”

Man: *Still completely chipper and upbeat* “No, you don’t know me. I just know where you work!”

Cue alarm bells. Unsure of how to respond, I think I simply walked right past and out of the building before he could say another word. I know he probably didn’t intend to come off that way, but how did he think that would sound anything other than creepy? To my knowledge, I’ve never seen him at work since.

Customer: “You should meet my brother-in-law. He’s really into man-on-man and heels. He’s got great calves and uses a whip. What do you say?”

Me: *Staring at him through the drive-thru window* “Uh, w-what was your order number again?”

It’s a quiet Saturday. Most of my coworkers don’t come in on Saturdays, but I do so that I can take a day off during the week. There are only a few cars in our massive parking lot.

I’m working at my desk, going over investment information, when I hear strange noises coming from outside. I head to our beautiful lobby to investigate. Some woman has pulled up into the parking lots closest to our lobby’s giant windows. She’s pulled up right next to another car.

She’s opening and slamming the various doors of her car and ejecting trash from her car — mostly Cheetos and Cheeto bags, but also several clothing hangers and some face masks. Her driver’s side doors heavily impact the car next to it several times.

At no point does she actually physically leave the car. She’s crawling around inside it, throwing open doors, throwing stuff out, and closing the doors.

Then, I notice that there’s a police car in our lot, too, at the end of one of the rows, just sitting there.

The woman sees me through the lobby windows and makes eye contact. Then, she abruptly shifts her car into reverse — rear driver side door still open — and pulls backward out of the spot, but it doesn’t stop there. She keeps pulling backward, maneuvering through narrow gaps in cars behind her, and still making eye contact with me.

There is, by the way, no need to shoot the gaps like this. The parking is very sparse, and she could have easily not threaded her car into single-car-width gaps, and in fact, had she pulled straight back, she would not have needed to do any threading. However, she seems to be aiming her car to deliberately go through these narrow gaps.

Finally, five rows away from the lobby and in line with the driveway, she abruptly throws her car into a bootlegger turn, complete with squealing tires, and shoots off down the driveway. The force of the turn closes the rear door that had been hanging open.

The cop car starts moving again at this point, driving in another direction.

The worst part — that car she kept hitting with the doors? It was mine.

I work for a gardening company that generally helps customers with checking on their orders, simple gardening questions, etc.

A customer joins the chat.

Me: “You are now chatting with [My Name]. How may I assist you?”

Customer: “What is an Easy Number?”

Me: “Oh, that is your account number. You may sometimes see it referred to as an Easy Number as it easily allows us to locate your information.”

Customer: “Where is my account number?”

Me: “I can look that up for you. Have you placed an order with us before?”

Customer: “Nope.”

Me: “Oh, well, that screen you are trying to log into right now is for customers to check the status of their previously placed orders.”

Customer: “Aw, okay. How do I pay for my order?”

Me: “Your credit card will be charged at the time your order is placed.”

Customer: “I don’t know how to do that.”

Me: “I’m sorry, could you explain what you don’t know how to do?”

Customer: “Charge my credit card.”

Me: “Oh, I apologize for the confusion. When you place your order, the system will automatically charge your card for you.”

Customer: “Okay. How do I create an account?”

Me: “When you submit your order, an account is automatically created for you.”

Customer: “I placed an order with your company yesterday.”

Me: “Oh, I apologize for misunderstanding earlier. I would be happy to look up your account number for you.”

Customer: “Actually, I don’t want you to do that. I have a doctor’s appointment. I’ll chat with you again later.”

The customer left the chat.

I went back and read the chat three times after they disconnected to make sure I understood that they blatantly said, “Nope,” when I asked if they placed an order with us before.

Related:
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets

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Many years ago, I started working with a woman who had an advanced degree in her field. I very much enjoyed working with her as she was smart, efficient, and very nice, and she would often talk about her family: a husband and two sons. She was a per diem employee, which meant that she gave the company the hours she was available to work and they scheduled her if she was needed.

Coworker: “Starting this fall, I won’t be working as much as I have been. [Son #1] is getting ready to go to college, and I’m enrolling in his classes so I can help him.”

This puzzled me a little, as she had never mentioned that he was intellectually challenged, but I was happy for her that she was able to do this for him. I am talking with my boss a few days later.

Me: “It’s too bad [Coworker] won’t be working with us as much. I really enjoy working with her.”

[Boss] is friends with [Coworker]’s husband.

Boss: “What are you talking about?”

Me: “Well, she’s taking herself off the schedule so she can go to school with [Son #1]. I didn’t even know he was intellectually challenged.”

My boss starts laughing uproariously.

Boss: “He’s not intellectually challenged; he’s a normal eighteen-year-old with an over-clinging mother!”

I don’t know what happened — if the college stepped in or her husband put his foot down — but she never ended up going to college (again!) with her son.

Fast forward to a few years later.

Coworker: “[Son #2] is going on a pilgrimage with our church; I’m very worried about him, but the pastor and the chaperones have all told me it’s perfectly safe.”

Me: “How old is he?”

Coworker: “He’s twenty, but he’s never traveled without me before.”

Really, never? 

A month later, [Coworker] came to work.

Me: “So, how was [Son #2]’s trip?”

Coworker: *Getting visibly angry* “They abandoned him! They didn’t wake him one morning and just left him and continued on with the trip. I had to fly all the way to [Country] to rescue him! I am never going back to that church, and I have stopped talking to all my friends who went on the trip. I can’t believe they would just leave a helpless child all alone in another country!”

Later on, I was talking to my boss.

Me: “So, what’s with [Son #2]’s trip? I can’t believe the church people would just abandon him.”

Boss: *Grinning from ear to ear* “They didn’t really ‘abandon’ him. He was going off at night with the other kids his age, drinking, and staying out very late. As a result, getting [Son #2] up every morning was a major event; he slept through multiple alarms, would fall back asleep after being awakened several times, and would take an hour or so to get ready to leave. The group ended up being late for every part of the tour and even missed some events altogether because of his lateness. They sat him down several times to talk to him about his lateness, and when nothing improved, they gave him a countdown. If he made them late three more times, they would leave him and let him make his own way to the sites. Every time after that, when he was late, they would remind him, ‘You have only two chances left,’ and, ‘This is your last chance,’ and the third time, they held to their word and left him.”

Me: “Well, I don’t know what they could have done, but it still seems harsh to abandon someone who’s never traveled alone before.”

Boss: “Nah, they left him clear, written instructions about what to do once he finally woke up, along with everyone’s cell number. He was supposed to go to see the guy in charge of the accommodations, who would arrange for prepaid transportation to where the group had traveled to, and once he got there, someone would meet him and take him to the group. Instead, he called [Coworker] crying about how he’d been left all by himself and didn’t know what to do.”

Several years later, this same woman was incensed that her husband would not let her go with her son and his new bride on their honeymoon!