I work in the wine-tasting area of a vineyard that gets a lot of visitors and tourists. A group has just noticed that we also sell cigars.

Me: “Yes, some of our visitors like to buy cigars as well as wine.”

Visitor: “My future son-in-law Charles likes to smoke cigars, too. He’s also a burglar.”

They walked away like that was the most normal sentence in the world.

I have just started working for a small company that promotes an extremely fit, healthy, and ethically-minded lifestyle. As a result, a lot of my new coworkers are these beautiful and toned Greek gods and goddesses. While I do exercise twice a week, I am the definition of “average build” compared to these people, but since I have been hired for my IT skills, no one is expecting me to have a six-pack.

During my first few days, I am told that sometimes Human Resources brings in cupcakes from a local bakery. That same day, after finishing a long work task, I see a box of cupcakes on the kitchen table from the local bakery, as described.

I help myself to one, and it’s very good! It’s a little dry, but the flavor is perfect. As I am chewing on a cupcake, one of the goddesses walks in.

Coworker: “Oh, finally! Someone is eating the cupcakes!”

Me: “What do you mean, ‘finally’?”

Coworker: “No one here really eats those. They’ve just been left out.”

Me: “Uh… for how long?”

Coworker: “I think they got them last week sometime?”

Me: “And you just left them here for people to just… eat?!”

Coworker: “Well… we all just kinda ignore them.”

Me: “Obviously!”

I was known as “Cupcake Guy” for the next five years that I worked there. Thankfully, I did not get sick from the one-week-old cupcake, but I threw away the rest. After that, every time HR came in with a free box of cupcakes, they just gave them to me directly!

CONTENT WARNING: Blood

My husband and I went on daily walks while working from home during the [global health crisis]. I was pregnant at the time, so it was especially important to get some movement in.

I started getting a lot of nosebleeds during the winter, which my obstetrician assured me was normal during pregnancy. We were out for an afternoon walk when my nose suddenly started to bleed. We’re talking out of nowhere, a flood of blood like the elevator doors opening in “The Shining”.

We were about a block from home at that point, but I didn’t have tissues or anything on hand to stop the absolute torrent of blood.

My husband ran home while I leaned over a fence. I was heavily dripping blood, but standing that way meant it dripped on the ground instead of pouring down my face or clothes.

He ran back a few minutes later with tissues to help staunch the blood long enough for me to get home.

Husband: “I hope none of the neighbors saw that! You’re doubled over bleeding from the nose as I run away from my pregnant wife!”

Don’t ask me why this story reminded me of this old incident, but here we go.

Back in the late 1990s, I was in the US for the first time. Back then, our passports were blue and had those thick leather-like covers with embossed gold writing, really fancy, not the embarrassingly flimsy red things we have now. (Thank you, EU!) I stayed with some friends, and we ordered pizza — my treat.

The delivery driver came, and he REEKED of weed. I swear, we smelled it through the door. Now, I don’t mind; anyone can do what they want, and in that line of work, you probably need something to deal with the people you get to encounter.

He took my credit card and asked to see my ID. I pulled out my passport, opened it, and held it out for him to see.

And he FREAKED out. He dropped the pizzas, dropped my card, and bolted for the door.

I stood there and stared at the open door, listening to the squealing tires and the laughter of my friends. 

Friend: “Dude, really?”

Me: “What? What did I do?”

Friend: “You flicked that open like they do in the movies when they show some FBI badge. Poor guy probably thought you were a narc or something.”

In case the driver reads this, I really just wanted to show you ID. Honest.

Related:
We Wish Her A Lifetime Of Cold Soggy Two-Day-Old Pizza

Way back before DVDs were a thing, I was an assistant manager at a video store. We had three regular customers who were always late with their returns. Two we didn’t mind too much since they paid their fees without a fuss and were genuinely great people to deal with. Everyone knew them, to the point that we’d put aside copies of high-demand new releases for them. The manager would sometimes waive the fees or give them free rental coupons, just because they were friendly and polite.

Then, there was our would-be owner. Everyone knew her, too. I call her “our would-be owner” because every time she had a fee (and she always had a fee), she would insist that her husband was rich, and if we wouldn’t waive the fee, then she’d have him buy our store and fire us all. Seriously, I thought that was just a Hollywood joke until I met her. Strangely enough, the fee was never waived, and our store was never bought out. 

The kicker was the time one of her kids came in alone to rent a movie. That was unusual but not unheard of; parents would sometimes send their kids in while they were in one of the other shops. Of course, there was a late fee outstanding. I informed the kiddo that the fee had to be paid before we could rent anything else to him. Fortunately, the $20 he had covered it, and he happily left with his movie.

Two minutes later, our would-be owner came storming in, demanding that we return her money and appalled that we would “rob a child” by making him pay the late fee! It turned out she’d given him the cash and sent him in alone on purpose, believing that we would waive the fees because he was young.