A few years ago, I had my name legally changed, only keeping my last name. Shortly after, I went to the liquor store. Since I’d only become legal the year before, the cashier did their duty and carded me. I presented my two pieces of ID, bought my beer, and went home.

Later, I was going through my wallet and realized I had accidentally put in my old medical card instead of my new one. So, I had presented two pieces of ID with two completely different names, and the cashier hadn’t batted an eye.

Related:
Has ID, Has An Idea

(I am a front desk agent at a local resort. The road going up to the resort is under construction during the late morning all week to widen the road. A guest comes in to check in.)

Me: “Hello there!” *starts going through the information about resort and the road closures*

Guest: “That won’t work. I have tee times then.”

Me: “Well, you could go out earlier and have breakfast in town, or you could drive around it will just take you another hour.”

Guest: “No, that won’t work.”

Me: “Well, I can’t change it, unfortunately; it’s controlled at the government level.”

Guest: “You should have called me.”

(Keep in mind, we have thousands of guests that come in, and not all the reservation information has a phone number.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t always have contact information for each guest.”

Guest: “Then you should have contacted [Travel Agency] to find out.”

Me: “We unfortunately don’t have the manpower to call and find every guest to let them know about the road closures. I’m sorry. It is on our website, though.”

Guest: “I just don’t know why you couldn’t have called to let me know.”

(I realize that this the whole conversation has been a waste of everybody’s time. I pick up the keys and hand them to the guest, smiling.)

Me: “Okay, well, enjoy your stay!”

My mom is telling me about a very frustrating exchange she had with the customer service of a large bus company, ending with, “…and that’s why I hung up on them.”

I have to stifle a laugh, because I was in the room with her for the end of the call. Most people hang up on someone by simply hanging up without a word. My mom’s version of hanging up on someone is to say, “I’m going to hang up now. Merry Christmas. Goodbye.”

(I’ve ordered a hamburger and onion rings in a cafeteria inside a supermarket. I pay for it, the cashier writes my name on the order, and I go find a table. For the purpose of this story, let’s say my name is Sheena. After a few minutes, I see a cafeteria worker walking around the tables with a hamburger and onion rings looking for a “Shane.” No one is answering. When she reaches my area:)

Me: “Could that possibly be for Sheena?”

Worker: “No, it says, ‘Shane.’”

(She heads back to the kitchen. The guy at the next table has been watching all this, so I comment:)

Me: “I bet you that was my order.”

(Over the next ten minutes or so, I hear the workers in the kitchen occasionally saying something about “Shane,” and then an announcement over the intercom saying that if there’s a Shane in the store, could he please come to the cafeteria. A few minutes later, the cashier who originally took my order marches into the seating area, comes over to me, and asks:)

Cashier: “Are you Sheena?”

Me: “Yes.”

(She rolls her eyes, hands me my order, and stalks off back to the kitchen.)

Me: *to the guy at the next table* “Told you that was my order.”

(I donate blood regularly. One time, when they insert the needle, I immediately feel lightheaded for a second or two. Since I have not yet lost more than a few drops of blood, definitely not enough to cause a significant loss of blood pressure, I assume it was just a psychosomatic reaction to having such a large needle inserted, shrug it off, and decide to continue with the draw. A few minutes later, it comes back again, and with a vengeance.)

Me: *raising hand shakily* “Um… Excuse me?”

(I immediately have three technicians surrounding me.)

Technician: “Are you okay?”

Me: “I’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

(They spring into action, immediately removing the needle. One of them reclines my seat so my feet are elevated above my head, one goes to grab damp cloths, which they drape over every inch of exposed skin I have, and one goes to grab me a juice box to increase my blood sugar. After a while, the seat is returned to its regular position, and they continue feeding me juice. I am eventually allowed to go to the recovery area, with two people escorting in case I pass out on the way. Once I sit down, I call my friend who I was supposed to meet to tell her I’ll be delayed. Partway through the conversation, I hear running steps behind me, then feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see a woman with a very concerned expression, who looks at me for a moment and then laughs.)

Volunteer: “Oh, you’re on your cell phone! I thought you were talking to yourself!”

Me: “Oh, no. I’m just letting my friend know I’m going to be late.”

Volunteer: “Oh, good.”

Friend: “What was that?”

Me: “Oh, the volunteer thought I was talking to myself. Can you imagine that? ‘Oh, great! First he nearly passes out, and now he’s hallucinating!'”

(They eventually let me go, and I was only 30 minutes late to meet my friend. Fortunately, while everything was going on, one of the techs mentioned I had filled most of a bag, and when I asked if it could still be used, he assured me it could.)