In Australia, we are required to take our own bags grocery shopping or purchase bags there. Supermarkets are not allowed to provide single-use plastic bags free of charge. Like many others, I use one insulated “fridge” bag as a carrier and put the rest of my bags inside it.

I was shopping recently and put my bags up before my groceries so they could be packed directly instead of piling up on the counter. The young lad serving me couldn’t have been more than fourteen, and upon receiving the bags on the register belt, he proceeded to pull all of them out of the main bag and leave them strewn across the bagging area. He then scanned every item of my shopping and somehow managed to balance it all on the end of his till.

He then seemed to realise they needed to be put in the bags, so he grabbed a handful of items and stared at the mess he’d made of the bags. I’m not sure if his brain stopped working or the choices were just overwhelming because he stood for a good ten seconds while I was paying, just staring at the bags.

I finished paying and reached over, opened a bag, and held it out to him. This seemed to reboot his brain because he then successfully packed all my groceries into the bags, leaving about six bags empty at the end. A truly bizarre encounter.

My three-year-old car has decided that it needs a new engine block, something not covered by warranty.

Mechanic: “We have found a secondhand engine for $6,328.00. We just need a deposit put down in order for us to order it in.”

Me: “Oh, okay, sure. How much are we talking for a deposit?”

Mechanic: “We need a deposit of $4,500.00.”

Me: “Um, that’s not a deposit; that’s basically paying the whole lot up front. A deposit for something is usually 10% to 20% of the cost of the item. Are you sure you know what ‘deposit’ means?”

Mechanic: “I know what ‘deposit’ means. This is our policy.”

Me: “I really think you need to look at the definition of a deposit.”

Our chicken shop runs a sweet half-price deal on Tuesdays every week. Every day of the week, without fail, this happens.

Customer: “Hi, can I get the Tuesday special?”

Me: “Sorry, it’s Wednesday.”

Customer: “Just press the button so I can have it.”

Me: “Sorry, the button is only on the register on Tuesdays.”

Customer: “What’s the difference? It’s just a day!”

Me: “Yeah, sorry, Tuesday’s the day for the special — only Tuesday. Not Wednesday.”

Customer: “Well, I got it last week!”

Me: “On Tuesday?”

Customer: “Yes, so why can’t I have it today?”

Me: “BECAUSE IT’S NOT TUESDAY!”

Every, single, day!

I have been offered a new full-time role working overnight at another location run by my boss. I have a regular Monday-to-Friday roster, starting at midnight each night. It’s the start of my second week when I arrive at work at 11:30 on Sunday night, only to have the store manager ask me why I am there.

Me: “I’m rostered to start work at midnight.”

Store Manager: “No, you’re not rostered. I had to bring someone else in because you weren’t rostered on tonight.”

Me: “I am on the roster to start at midnight.”

Store Manager: “No, you are rostered to start at midnight Monday night.”

Me: “Can I check on the roster?” 

Store Manager: “No, I can’t get online to access it at the moment.”

I leave, confused because I was told by the franchisee that I would be working Monday to Friday. I check the roster when I get back home and see that I am rostered from 00:00 am to 8:00 am Monday. I call the store manager to let him know.

Store Manager: “Yes, I know you are working from midnight on Monday, but that’s tomorrow; it’s Sunday tonight.”

Me: “But it’s Monday from midnight tonight.”

Store Manager: “No, it’s Sunday night.”

All I could do was call my boss in the morning to ask him to explain to the store manager how days work.

I’m shopping in a supermarket when I see a reduced hot chicken. As I go to grab it, I’m pushed out of the way by a young guy who looks to be eighteen to twenty.

Young Guy: “Haha, stupid b****.”

He walks off laughing with the chicken. I shrug it off when a deli worker calls me over.

Worker: “Hey, I just saw what happened with that guy. I’ve got a fresh batch just out of the oven; I’ll reduce one for you.”

I thanked her and took it, figuring at least it was fresh and hadn’t been sitting for hours. As I was walking home, I was waiting to cross at a set of traffic lights when the young guy from earlier pulled up in a hotted-up car — illegal for someone on their P plates as this guy was — revving his engine.

When the lights changed, he sped around the corner, lost control, and went through a hedge into an empty car park, ripping off his front bumper and seriously damaging his front end. I didn’t hang around to see what happened but couldn’t stop laughing all the way home.

Gotta love Karma.