Ever since I was a kid, my mother has always done this thing where she calls me for a favor, and by the time I get there, it turns into many more. Once I become an adult and move to a cheap apartment about a block away, she still calls me to ask for those and still does the same thing. It’s important to mention that I work in a hospital X-ray section, so I work twenty-four straight hours a week.

One day, I get fed up with her doing it.

Mother: “Hi. Could you come here? I need you to do [task].”

Me: “And?”

Mother: “And what?”

Me: “To do [task] and?”

Mother: “No, just [task].”

Me: “Sure, give me a few minutes.”

So, I go. And by the time I arrive, she has, as usual, thought of a few other things she wants me to do. Instead of doing them all, as I used to, I do the first and start walking away.

Mother: “Wait, where are you going?”

Me: “Home. I already did [task].”

Mother: “What about the other stuff? Are you really going to be useless?”

Me: “I’m not useless. If I was, I wouldn’t have done [task].”

Mother: “So, you’re going to leave me alone to do this? I’m frail, you know.”

She really, really isn’t. In fact, she’s always been in better shape than me, since I have literally never cared about that, and as such, I pretty much look like a mix of pre-Serum Steve Rogers, only with his post-Serum height.

Me: “Yes, I’m leaving you alone. Next time, say everything you need.”

Mother: “But you only work a day a week! Of course, you can help your mom instead of lounging at home!”

Me: “I came here. I helped. Be honest next time.”

I keep my word and go home. Ten minutes later, my sister calls.

Sister: “Did you tell Mom to stop asking you for help?!”

She sounds really angry. I almost laugh. My mother is famous in our family for trying to turn people against each other to get her way.

Me: “No, I told her to stop asking for something and then piling stuff on top of it. And you live next to her, so why don’t you help?”

Sister: “Because I’m married and work a forty-hour job?”

Me: “Yeah, no. I’ve complained for years. I moved partly because of that.”

She finishes the call. A few minutes later, my mother calls again.

Mother: “Hi. Look, I’m willing to forgive you. Could you come here and do the rest?”

I immediately hung up. I’d like to say she hasn’t talked to me since, but she keeps calling me for all kinds of help. I still only do the first thing and then leave.

This happened over a year ago, so it’s not to do with current events. Our two kids — a baby and a two-year-old — are very sick, with high fevers and sore throats. We take them to the emergency room, and after that, I go straight home while my husband goes to the drugstore to buy their medicine.

Once he gets home, and we give all the stuff that needs to be taken immediately, I notice he came in like he had been teleported right from the store. He has a shopping basket with the medicine boxes inside.

Me: “Um, did you pay for that?”

Husband: “Of course I did!”

I point over to the basket.

Husband: “Oh! Wow! How did that happen? I’m sure I paid!”

He looked in his wallet and found the receipt. He did pay for everything — except for the basket, that is — and had no idea of what happened. He was so worried and in such a rush that he did everything in a daze.

A couple of days later, once everything was back to normal, he went back to the drugstore, apologized, and gave back the shopping basket.

The company which I work for issues their contracts with values without taxes. This happens because taxes vary from state to state, and many customers use our services in several different states. I work at the customer service billing branch; I don’t really meet the clients, but I talk to them regularly by telephone.

Me: “Hello, Mr. [Customer]?”

Customer: “Yes?”

Me: “Hi there, my name is [My Name]. I work at [Company] and called you to talk because you contested your first invoice. Can we talk about it right now?”

Customer: “Ah, yes! You see, the invoice value is different from what we had in agreement.”

Me: “I understand the problem; please give me some time to check the values.”

I analyze the bill and check that everything was in accordance with the contract.

Me: “Sir, everything is in accordance with the contract. Do you have the contract with you right now?”

A few seconds pass…

Customer: “Yes, I have it now. Can you see it next to the value? It says we’re exempt from taxes.”

I am completely puzzled and surprised. I check again the PDF copy of the contract I have and don’t find anything about what the customer says.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir… but I couldn’t find the information you’re pointing out. Can you be more specific, please?”

Customer: “It’s right next to the value! It reads, ‘without taxes,’ between parenthesis!”

I give a small chuckle in relief as I’ve figured the problem.

Me: “Ah, I see! It looks like it was just a misunderstanding. It’s not that you don’t have to pay taxes, it’s just that the value mentioned does not include taxes yet; you still have to pay those.”

Customer: “Nonsense! I’m tax-free! It’s in the contract!”

Me: “But, sir—”

Customer: “Who the h*** issues contracts with only half the values, anyway?”

I explain the whys and because, and after several minutes of trying to convince him, I finally give up.

Me: “Okay, Mr. [Customer], I’ll look into it and position you by email.”

Customer: “Finally! Don’t forget it! I’m tax-free!” *Hangs up*

I sent him an email with everything I already told him by phone, saying that his invoice value was correct.

(I used to work as the computer maintenance guy on a small IT store that offer maintenance and user support. This dude come in carrying a toy notebook, one of those made of multicolored plastic. Just for reference, back in the day I was fresh from IT tech school and just 17 years old.)

[Customer] My son’s notebook stopped working.
[Me] Mmm… *looking at the toy* Have you changed the batteries?
[Customer] *rage instantly skyrocketing* OF COURSE I HAVE, I’M NOT STUPID!
[Me] *holding myself* Sir, please calm down. Just asking because this isn’t a real computer, it’s just a toy.
[Customer] DON’T PLAY F**** GAMES WITH ME, KID! I KNOW A D*** COMPUTER WHEN I SEE ONE, I WORK WITH COMPUTERS SINCE BEFORE YOU WERE BORN! NOW FIX IT!

I take a glance to my boss, who’s currently placing some components on our stands. He just nods at me, understanding what I was about to do and allowing me to.

[Me] Sir, first of all, this is just a toy. You would notice that just by looking at the [Toy brand] logo here. *I proceed to open the batteries cover* Second, if you indeed have changed the batteries, why are the contacts all corroded and fused with them? Third, I have been studying computers since before your kid was born, which should be less than 8 years ago, judging by the bite marks all over this toy.
[Customer] THIS IS A F***** OUTRAGE! I WANT TO TALK TO YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!
[Boss] *comes over* Hello, what seems to be the issue here?
[Customer] YOUR EMPLOYEE IS A D*** SMARTASS! HE’S MAKING FUN OF ME AND TRYING TO F*** ME OVER!
[Boss]] I see…
[Customer] I WANT HIM OUT OF THIS JOB RIGHT F***** NOW!
[Boss] I see what you are trying to do, and this isn’t going to work. You are a terrible customer who don’t listen and don’t have a slightest glimpse of manners. Please get out of my store.

The man made a noise pretty much like a bull getting ready to charge against someone, grabbed the toy and left, ranting. My boss landed his hand on my shoulder and I felt it like a true compliment on customer handling.

[Me] Have a nice day!
[Boss] Ha. Good one. Now… back to work.

I’m pregnant with my second child and I begin to feel a few contractions. I call my doctor and she wants me to get an exam before the upcoming delivery, so I take a rideshare to the hospital. I know, from my first birth, that I’m still hours away before the baby comes out, and the contractions are still manageable without much more than a grunt, but car rides are very uncomfortable under those conditions.

We get stuck in traffic a few blocks from the hospital, and I suggest the driver turns on a different street that, from what I can remember from the last time I went to that hospital, will get us there. But I’m wrong and the driver makes a U-turn to get us back to the right path. It’s a little residential street, and several streets just like this one are two-way streets in this area. But this is not one.

We come out, going the wrong way, to find out the cause of the traffic jam was a police block. The cop is very excited to bust my poor driver for going the wrong way.

Cop: “You are going the wrong way; what were you thinking?”

Driver: “Sorry, I—”

I know all this is my fault, and I feel awful, so I open my window to intervene.

Me: “Sorry, officer! It was my fault!”

I feel a contraction coming and I let out a roaring scream like in the movies. I catch my breath and continue.

Me: “You see, I’m having a baby and we need to get to the hospital—”

I point to the hospital, just a block away

Me: “—and I thought this street got us there.”

The officer gets very alarmed and tells us to follow him.

I’m very happy he let the driver go without a ticket, especially since cops here are notorious for asking for bribes. But my driver is almost freaking out.

Driver: “WAIT! YOU’RE IN LABOR?”

I let out a very relieved laugh and explained to him that, well, technically, I was, but the baby was still hours away. 

The cop got in his car and escorted us the short distance, sirens blazing. It was all very cinematographic and completely unnecessary since there was no traffic past the police block.

We got there in minutes and all was well with us. I even went back home and then back to the hospital — no wrong roads this time — before having my baby later that day.