(I’m 18 and I have just been medically discharged from the military. I have nothing to fall back on. I decide that the first thing I need to do is get a car. I have enough money saved up to buy a decent used car outright. My aunt, who works HR for a car dealership, tells me to browse their website and see if I find anything I like. I manage to find a car within my price range, but it is in Las Vegas. She puts me in touch with her “best” used car salesman to see if he can help me out.)

Salesman: *on the phone* “I see you are looking at a car in Las Vegas; is that right?”

Me: “Yes, would it be possible to bring it here?”

Salesman: “Yes, we can do that, but I’m a little concerned about the car because the dealership didn’t do the mechanic report; it was done by an outside source. But I did just get a 2007 Toyota Corolla in with only 63,000 miles on it. What were you looking to spend?”

Me: “Well I’m paying cash, so $3,500-$4,000 max.”

Salesman: *mumbles something about $4,000* “…but I can work with you because of who your aunt is. We were going to replace the tires, but I can not do that to save on cost, if you prefer.”

Me: “That sounds great! I can replace the tires myself. Can I come see it this weekend?”

Salesman: “Absolutely! See you then!”

(My boyfriend and I drove from San Diego to Los Angeles to see the car, and met my aunt at the dealership. When we arrived, I did an initial inspection of the car and everything looked great, so we went inside to finalize the deal. When we sat down, the salesman showed us a quote that was around $6,400, which was WAY out of my budget. I began to believe I wasn’t going to leave with this car. My aunt was livid, tearing into the salesman, asking him if that’s how they treat all of their customers, and if so, they needed to have a serious chat. Turns out they bought the car from the previous owner for $4,000 and there were all sorts of fees they had to charge to resell it. The salesman believed he could get the young girl buying her first car to finance and make more money. His manager got involved and, to save the situation they sold it to me for the $4,000 they bought it for, plus $540 in DMV fees they couldn’t waive. They took a HUGE hit on the car, and I walked away both scared and impressed by my aunt. The kicker? The tires were fine.)

Manager: “Hey, can you stay an extra hour? [Coworker] called out.”

Me: “Again? This is the third time in a week, and she’s always calling out five minutes before her shift!”

Manager: “Yeah… She’s in the hospital.”

Me: *pause* “A valid excuse. Still mad, though.”

(I work in the back office of a large multi-specialty practice. Patients routinely come out of the rooms after their appointments and need to make follow-up appointments, which they are supposed to do with the schedulers at the front desk where they checked in; the doctors tell them so. However, they usually make a beeline for where I sit at the nurses’ station and request that I schedule their follow-up. After a few months of directing patients to the front desk, I made a bold-face, full-page sign that sits upright on the counter between my desk and the patients saying, “Follow-up appointments can be made at the Front Desk,” with a bright orange arrow directing to the front. However, this still happens several times a week:)

Patient: *standing directly in front of the sign and craning their neck around it to see me* “I need a follow-up appointment for six months.”

Me: *mental head-desk* “Let me just show you to the front…”

(I work at a well-known video game store. We just got in an exclusive figure from my favorite TV show, and a customer and his friend come in looking for it.)

Customer: “I’m looking for [figure]; do you have any?”

Me: “We have them right here!” *points to the only three we have in stock* “They are so cool! And they are exclusives. I want one but can’t afford to be spending money on figures right now.”

(His friend puts one on hold to pick up later and he turns to my coworker.)

Customer: “Isn’t there a buy-two-get-one-50%-off thing going on for these right now?”

Coworker: “Yes, there is; did you want to pick something else up?”

Customer: “Yeah, I think I will take both of them—” *the remaining two figures* “—and this.” *he finds a different character and adds it to the group*

Me: “Well, there you go. Now I won’t have the temptation!”

(At this point, I have handed over the conversation and transaction to my coworker while I work on other things. I take notice of him again just as he is finishing his transaction. He pulls one of the figures out of his bag and hands it out in my direction.)

Customer: “Oh, by the way, this is for you!”

Me: “Really?!”

Customer: “Yup!”

Me: *jumping around with excitement* “Thank you so much!”

(I spent the next five minutes geeking out and dancing with excitement. He ended up forgetting something and coming back in, and I thanked him two more times. Best customer ever; he made my year.)

(I am a Canadian tourist in the USA, and I go to mail something to my mom. I get a box and fill out all the information on the sheet they give me, but when I get to, “return address,” I’m not sure what to do. I have only ever sent mail from the place I was living, and always knew a return address as the address it was mailed from. Since I am not mailing from where I live, and have no address here for it to be returned to, I approach the postal worker to ask about it.)

Me: “I’m from out of the country, so I don’t have an address here, so I’m not sure what I should put in this section.”

Worker: *with an absolutely disgusted expression* “You don’t have an address?!“

Me: “Not in the USA, no. As I said, I am from out of the country, so I don’t have an address here.”

Worker: “You have to put a return address! We won’t deliver it if you don’t! YOU HAVE TO HAVE A RETURN ADDRESS!”

Me: “Um, okay.”

(I ended up putting my mom’s address as both the recipient and the sender. She eventually did get the package.)