I’m in the ladies’ washroom on the observation deck of the CN Tower, formerly the tallest free-standing structure in the world, over 1,100 feet high, and well above the height of any other building around.

[Tourist #1] flushes the toilet.

Tourist #2: “Hey! The water pressure is really good in here!”

Tourist #1: “Yeah!” *Pause* “We must be close to a water tower.”

Tourist #2: “I didn’t see any water tower. Did you?”

Tourist #1: “No, but there has to be one for the water pressure to be this good.”

Tourist #2: “Let’s go out and look again.”

They finished washing their hands and went out to look!

I’m tee-total, but I still like to go dancing with my friends. A Shirley Temple is one of my favourite drinks, but for some reason, some bars like to add vodka or rum, without even asking me which one. Because of this, I’ve learned to be specific.

I’m also used to non-alcoholic drinks being free at the clubs we go to.

Me: “Could I please get a Shirley Temple with no alcohol?”

Bartender: “What is that?”

Me: “Just orange juice, Sprite, and grenadine.”

Bartender: “We don’t have grenadine.”

Me: “That’s okay, just orange juice and Sprite.”

She mixes a drink and sets it on the bar.

Bartender: “That’s $5.75.”

Me: “For what?”

Bartender: “For the vodka.”

She says this as if it should be obvious.

Me: “No, I wanted no alcohol. I said just orange juice and Sprite.”

Bartender: *With attitude* “You didn’t say you wanted a virgin.”

I was especially confused because not only was I certain that I had specified no alcohol, but I had actually listed the ingredients for her. A version of this was, unfortunately, a common occurrence at clubs, but this one was definitely the worst one.

I’ve been wanting a scroll saw for a bit and I find one on Facebook Marketplace. I message the seller and, once I confirm it is available, I ask to bring the price down from $190 to $140; I am ready to go to $150, but the seller agrees to my initial offer. We make some basic plans to meet the next day and then he messages me halfway through that next day with his phone number asking me to call.

Seller: “Hello?”

Me: “Hi. It’s [My Name] calling about the scroll saw.”

Five solid seconds pass.

Seller: “I… I thought you were a man.”

Me: “Yeah, I figured.”

He’d called me “buddy” a few times in the messages the day before.

Seller: “It’s… It’s a man’s tool.”

Me: “Okay. Well, I have a band saw now and need a scroll saw for some more delicate work.”

This seems to be good enough for him and we settle on a time and place. As we finalize our plans, he says softly:

Seller: “It’s too much…”

Me: “Sorry? What was that?”

Seller: “What price did we agree on?”

Me: “$140.”

Seller: “It’s too much.”

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Seller: “Maybe 120.”

Me: “What’s 120?”

Seller: “120.”

Me: “Okay…”

For reasons beyond me, when I arrived to pick up the machine, he asked me again how much we agreed on and I said $140. He shook his head and said that it was $120. Weirdest online buy/sell I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve experienced a lot of weirdness buying and selling on these sites.

I work in a home improvement store. The job has taught me that some people have a very limited understanding of how stuff works. A woman walks up to me.

Customer: “I need glue to fasten a very heavy object to a very flimsy fitting. It’s also going to be used to support other things.”

This is an absolute structural gong show. There is no glue in the world that will do what she asks. I suggested a variety of workable options using fasteners. She refuses, insisting the parts have to come together in her complicated, structurally-questionable way using only glue. Finally, I give up.

Customer: “So, what can I use to glue these together?”

Me: “Magic.”

My brother and I are twenty-six and thirty-two respectively, and we live with our parents because the economy sucks.

One of the fuses in our apartment went out. I contacted the property manager, but it was Saturday night and she couldn’t get someone from maintenance to come out until Monday, seeing as it wasn’t an emergency — just that a couple of lights and outlets weren’t working, but nothing pressing. One of the lights not working was in the bathroom. 

Around midnight that same night, Dad had to pee. Instead of sitting on the toilet or something, he apparently just could not aim properly and peed all around the area of the toilet. Mom overheard him cursing about it and came to get me, because she’s blind and, well, that shit is nasty. So, I had to get out of bed and go wash the bathroom floor.

When I asked him why he couldn’t just sit to pee until it was fixed, he angrily retorted, “Well, if someone would finally call the property manager so we can get the fuse fixed, then I could see what I was doing!“

“Dad, I already called,” I explained. “They can’t send anybody out until Monday.”

“Oh.”

For the rest of the weekend, he was able to magically not pee on the floor, even at night. That’s when I knew it was done out of spite.