(I have had platinum blonde hair for all of my childhood and right into my mid-late 20s. In this story, I am sixteen and my friend is fourteen. We are travelling to school on the bus one morning.)

Friend: *randomly* “You know, your hair isn’t blonde. It’s too pale.”

Me: “Okay, if you say so. What colour is it, then?”

Friend: “I don’t know, but it isn’t blonde.”

Me: “Well, if it isn’t blonde, what is it? Is it black?”

Friend: “No.”

Me: “Is it red?

Friend: “No.”

Me: “Is it brunette?”

Friend: “No.”

Me: “Are you saying you think my hair is white?”

Friend: “No, it’s not that pale.”

Me: “So, it must be blonde.”

Friend: “No! I told you! It’s too pale!”

Me: “Soooo, what colour is it, then?”

Friend: “I. Don’t. Know. It’s just too pale to be blonde.”

Me: *smirking* “Okay, whatever.”

(I didn’t bother arguing with her anymore since I was familiar with her intransigent nature. However, being only a mere teenager, I did have a giggle with mutual friends about her claim later on.)

(My insurance company has decided to stop covering one of my prescriptions for unknown reasons. I get a notice from them on a Friday afternoon, as well as an email from the pharmacy, that the prescription in question is due for a refill. Since it’s Friday at three pm, I figure I’ll just pay the cash price for it this month and call my insurance company next week. I click the link in the email to refill and go back to work. An hour later, I get a text update saying the prescription has been put on hold. I call my pharmacy.)

Me: “Hi. My name is [My Name], and I’m calling regarding my prescription I just sent for a refill.”

Rep #1: “Sure, I’ll look at that… Oh, it looks like your insurance won’t cover it for whatever reason.”

Me: “I know. I’ll just pay the cash price this month. How much will it be?”

Rep #1: *timidly* “[Amount].”

Me: “Okay, that’s fine. When can I pick it up?”

Rep #1: “You’re going to pay it?”

Me: “Well, sure. What other option do I have?”

Rep #1: “Oh… okay! I’ll finish it up for you. It should be ready in thirty minutes.”

Me: “Great. Thanks!”

(After I get out of work, I stop by the pharmacy. There’s a different rep behind the counter.)

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name], and I believe there’s one prescription ready for me.”

Rep #2: “Okay, I see that here. Hmm… looks like there’s a copay.”

Me: “I know.”

Rep #2: “There shouldn’t be.”

Me: “They already told me. [Amount], right?”

Rep #2: “Let me look into this.”

Me: “It’s okay. My insurance company screwed up. I’ll call them on Monday.”

Rep #2: “You shouldn’t have to pay for this. There’s never a copay on [prescription].”

Me: *slightly irritated that he just announced what I’m taking to the entire pharmacy* “It’s fine. Really. Can I just pay?”

Rep #2: “I can give you a discount.”

Me: “The copay’s not that bad. It’s been a long day and I’d really like to pay and go home.”

Rep #2: “If you’re sure… Okay, I’ll put it in. I’ll even throw on that discount. If you want to have a seat, I’ll holler when it’s ready.”

Me: “Uh… the lady I talked to earlier said it’d be ready by now.”

Rep #2: “No, we were waiting until you stopped in. It’ll only be about twenty minutes.”

(I’m extremely annoyed now, but I’m trying my best not to show it.)

Me: “Look, I’ll just come back tomorrow. No problem.”

Rep #2: “It’s only twenty minutes. Maybe less!”

(I wave and walk out. I drive back over the next day, where there is yet another rep behind the counter.)

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name], and there should be one ready for me.”

Rep #3: “Yes, it’s filled and ready to go. One minute while I grab it!”

(He grabs it and starts ringing me out.)

Rep #3: “Oh, um… I need to get the pharmacist. Something isn’t correct.”

Me: “If it’s the copay, I know about it! It’s not an issue!”

([Rep #3] disappears into the back. I throw up my hands in frustration. He comes back out a few minutes later.)

Rep #3: “There’s a copay on this. There shouldn’t be. We can look into this for you.”

Me: “LISTEN TO ME. You are the third person that I’ve explained this to. I know about the copay. It’s fine. My insurance company screwed up. All I want to do is pay and go home!”

Rep #3: “I apologize for the issue. I don’t know what happened with your insurance… Hold on. Did you say you are going to pay?!”

Me: *through gritted teeth* “YES.”

Rep #3: “Oh. OH! Yes, I’d be happy to process that for you! No problem!”

(I can only imagine how many temper tantrums people have thrown over copays to prompt that reaction from THREE pharmacy techs!)

(I work as a sales associate at a store that sells a lot of home furnishings, as well as furniture. I work with smaller items like vases and dinnerware. I’m currently working with kitchen products. A customer approaches the counter.)

Me: “Hi there. How are you doing today?”

Customer: “I’ve got a complaint.”

Me: “Okay, I’m sorry to hear that, but how may I be of assistance in handling this complaint?”

Customer: *takes out an ice cube tray* “I have a complaint about this product.”

Me: “Okay. What is wrong with the ice cube tray?”

Customer: “I’ve been using it for about a year and a half and it’s taken on an odd smell.”

Me: *warily picks up the tray and sniffs it to discover that it’s the smell of frozen food bags and general “freezer” smell* “I think this is what it’s supposed to smell like. That’s what mine smells like.”

Customer: “Well, then, something is very wrong with you because it shouldn’t smell like that.”

Me: “I… Would you like to buy a new one?”

Customer: “I’d like to return this one.”

Me: “Well, you just said that you have been using it for over a year, and it smells normal to me. Maybe if you clean it and then clean out your freezer, you can continue using it.”

Customer: “No. I want a refund because it doesn’t smell right.”

Me: “Our policy is ninety days in unused and unwashed condition, with receipt, for a full cash refund, and not only have you used it and washed it, but it’s also been over a year since you bought it.”

Customer: “I demand to speak to your manager.”

Me: “About an ice cube tray that smells normal? I’ll get her, but I generally wouldn’t bring back items that cost $10 after a year of use.”

(The customer was so grumpy she had me pull my manager, who reluctantly gave her store credit for the product so that she could keep good faith with the customer.)

(I work for an insurance company. When people forget or lose their insurance cards, the doctor’s office often calls us to confirm if the insurance is up and running. I get one of these calls.)

Receptionist: “I am calling to confirm the insurance of a patient. It’s [Patient], born [date], living at [address].”

(I look up the data, double checking that I am really talking to a doctor’s office.)

Me: “Yeah, he was insured with us up to [date a few months in the past].”

Receptionist: “Well, do you know where he is insured now? He is sitting here, waiting for treatment.”

Me: “What do you mean, he is sitting there? According to my information, he died a few months ago.”

(Turns out, the doctor had two patients with the same name and birthday, and both were insured with us. And the receptionist called up the file just using that information. Only after we asked the patient for his address did we confirm that he was the other patient. I still wonder what went through his mind when the receptionist told him, “I have your insurance on the line; they say you’re dead.”)

(My friend and I are eating lunch outside. I am sitting leaning against a concrete pillar while he sits opposite me against a wall. I am just about done when I hear snippets of a strange, rambling voice behind me.)

Voice: “Yeah, I’m… money… fo dis… real man… yeah…”

(I look at my friend who is watching whatever is going on with a look that is equal parts bafflement and horror. I piece together the incoherent blather and his face and come to the conclusion that a confused, homeless person has somehow snuck onto our campus and is currently harassing students for money. Not wanting to deal with that hassle, I quickly finish my food and stand up so that we can head indoors, pointedly not turning around, to avoid making eye contact.)

Friend: *immediately once we were indoors* “Did you see that?!”

Me: “I heard it. I figured it was some crazed, homeless guy bothering students.”

Friend: “What? No! It was that blond chick trying to rap!”

(I turn around and see a blond girl that neither of us knows, but she is hard to ignore, as she loudly speaks like a “gangsta.” She is in the middle of a small group of people bobbing back and forth with her hand to her mouth as if holding a microphone.)

Me: “Good God, her free-styling was so awful I assumed it was a half-drunk hobo seeking pocket change from teenagers.”