I’m helping a customer on the phone. They don’t sound elderly or very young. They are having a hard time putting in their card info as it keeps saying it was not entered. The system tells them to enter their card number followed by the pound key.

Customer: “I don’t know why it’s not working. I put in my card number but nothing happens.”

Me: “Did you press pound after putting in your card number?”

Customer: “What’s pound?”

I’m thinking they may be younger than I thought and don’t know the symbol by that name.

Me: “The hashtag.”

Customer: “The what?”

Me: “The number symbol.”

Customer: “…”

Me: “On your keypad.”

Customer: “I don’t know what you mean.”

I’m running out of ways to say it at this point.

Me: “The little tic-tac-toe board on your keypad.”

Customer: “Oh, that button. Should I push that after putting my number in?”

Me: “Yes, you have to press that button.”

The customer tries again.

Customer: “It worked! I don’t know why it wouldn’t work the first time.”

My job requires a lot of different tasks, but today, I am nailing things to telephone polls. I am in a sort of upscale area of a major Canadian city, carrying a hammer, a bunch of nails, and the things I am hammering. I walk from pole to pole along the sidewalk. I also have an orange vest.

As I begin to hammer something into a pole, I hear from the street:

Person: “Hey, man, are you giving me a ticket?”

I turn to face the guy and just hold out one hand holding a hammer and my other holding a bunch of nails.

Person: *Laughing* “Never mind.”

Can you imagine? Yes, in this city we skip the ticket and just put a nail through your windshield.

I work very long hours and often don’t get to leave until well into the evening. There are only two fast food places open by the time I leave, so about once a week, I stop at one of them for a bite to eat and a drink before driving twenty minutes home to treat myself. The last couple of times I’ve stopped at the one place, my (very simple) order, a bacon cheeseburger meal, has been wrong. Once it had no cheese, and the last few times it had no bacon. I called and let them know each time it happened via voicemail, but I never got calls back, just ate and went home to bed. I skipped that restaurant for a few weeks because of this, but I get off work earlier than usual one day and have my family with me, so they decide they want food from that restaurant.

I order my usual at the drive-thru: a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and an iced tea.

Cashier: “We don’t have onion rings here.”

This restaurant is known for its onion rings, so I am pretty shocked but get just the burger and drink.

Me: “The last few times I’ve come in, I haven’t gotten the bacon on my burger. Can you please make sure it is made properly?”

She assures me she will and I go to the window and pay. By the time I get my food, my daughter is starting to fuss, so we hop on the road toward home. I have a weird feeling, so about five minutes down the road, I ask my husband to check the food. His burger, fine. My daughter’s kids’ meal, fine. My burger? A patty on a bun and nothing else. I’m frustrated, as the bacon cheeseburger is almost $4 more than the regular, plain hamburger, and this has happened several times now. I turn around and drive back, go inside, and ask for a refund. The manager opens the burger.

Manager: “This is how you asked for it.”

I say no and show my receipt, which says, “[Burger], + bacon $1.89, + cheese $1.89.” She looks around and starts speaking in another language to the lady working in the kitchen.

Me: “Can I get a refund, please?”

Manager: “We are sold out of bacon.”

She just stands there staring at me as several seconds pass.

Me: “So… can I get a refund, then?”

She rolls her eyes, shoves cash at me, and then sarcastically says:

Manager: “Soooorry, but like I said, we are out of bacon!”

I don’t work there, so how am I supposed to know they’re out of bacon? The cashier had no problem telling me they were out of onion rings. Why was bacon such a struggle, and why was it my fault? Oh, well.

I am selling two nightstands/end tables on a popular social media networking site, on their buy and sell section. In the price section, I put $50 (to increase interest), and in the description, along with the explanation of the condition of the tables, I say they are $50 each. I get a couple of people sending offers for both or for one, and then, one potential buyer messages me and asks if I would deliver. Usually, I don’t, but I am feeling nice, and they are located just a few minutes’ drive away from where I will be working tomorrow, so I agree and set a time with her.

The next day, I finish my job and message the buyer, telling her that I will be there in ten minutes, right on the time we’d decided yesterday. No response. I pull up to the apartment building and message her that I’m there, and she still doesn’t respond. I go up to the buzzer, and someone answers!

Buyer: “Oh, okay. Give me five minutes.”

My level of frustration rises, since we set the time yesterday, and I’m being nice enough to drive there. In the meantime, I decide to grab one of the tables and bring it to the door. When I get there, a guy is waving around a $100 bill and asks me if I have change. Confused, I confirm that he’s there for the tables (I guess he’s living with the buyer), but I say that the tables are $50 each. He tells me that the buyer is in the shower and he needs to go check with her. Sure enough, when he comes back out, he tells me that she isn’t interested.

Me: “The listing said $50 each!”

I grabbed the table and stormed off to the car. I hate people sometimes.

I worked at a specialist medical clinic for the first six months of the health crisis. After we made masks mandatory for all patients coming in, we saw the usual paper and cloth masks, as well as some more makeshift ones, such as bandanas and scarves. One makeshift mask, however, really took the cake. A male patient came into our office wearing…

…a bra!

That’s right, he literally had one of the cups over his nose and mouth and the straps wrapped around his head and neck.

We offered him one of our masks for his appointment, which he accepted!