One of my veteran coworkers would jokingly ask the office manager every week about implementing “2:30 Fridays” so that we would have a few extra weekend hours. This became a running joke in the office.

The office manager announced that he was leaving the company, and not long after he left, the veteran coworker was promoted to the new office manager. Now nearly every worker is asking her when she is going to start her “2:30 Fridays” policy. She now regrets making that joke.

(The customer in front of me at the grocery store has just finished getting his items scanned. This store offers the option of receipts in the usual paper format or by email to save waste.)

Cashier: “Would you like your receipt emailed, on paper, or neither?”

Customer: “No.”

Cashier: “Okay, then, no receipt it is. Please insert your card.”

Customer: *after paying* “Where’s my receipt?”

Cashier: “You said you didn’t want your receipt.”

Customer: “No, I didn’t want it emailed.”

Me: “No, she asked if you wanted the receipt emailed or on paper. You said, ‘No,’ so she said, ‘Okay, no receipt, then,’ and you paid. If you wanted a receipt, you should have said so.”

Customer: “I wanted it on paper, not email!”

Me: “Too bad you didn’t listen, then, huh?”

(The cashier had to call for a manager to get the receipt pulled up and printed — because if anyone could do it, theft would be really easy. There was a ten-minute wait and a long line built up because this guy desperately needed a receipt for his milk.)

(A woman walks up to my key center, holds up a key, and asks for a copy.)

Me: “Hey there. How can I help?”

Customer: *sour-faced* “I need a key.”

(It isn’t a regular key, but a laser-cut apartment building key, the one her landlord would have given to her for the front and back door. Looking at the key in hand, I shake my head sympathetically.)

Me: “Ah, I’m sorry, miss, but, unfortunately I can’t cut that key for you.”

Customer: “Ye,s you can.”

(Her tone is matter-of-fact, and her expression tells me she will accept little in the way of argument.)

Me: “I wish I could, miss, but–” *motions to the measly collection of simple blanks hanging behind me* “–I don’t have a blank for that key.”

Customer: “But, you make keys here.”

(She says this like she’s informing me of what my job is. I nod.)

Me: “I do, yes, but—”

Customer: “I don’t understand why you won’t make me a key. You make keys here.”

(My patience is waning.)

Me: “That’s your apartment key, isn’t it?” *pulls out one of my keys, a perfect match to hers* “See, this is my apartment key; it’s just like yours. Now, you see these cuts?” *points out the ringed cuts on the blade* “See, these are laser cut, right? Well, I don’t have a laser-cutter, so…”

Customer: “But… you make keys here.”

(Being a six-year veteran in the retail game teaches one instincts. My instincts tell me that if I am not careful, this lady and I could be going round and round all night. I decide to switch up my approach.)

Me: “Yes, we do, but I should point out what it says on your key. Right there, ‘DO NOT DUPLICATE.’ So, you see, because this is a key that belongs to a piece of property that you don’t own, your landlord is telling you that he or she doesn’t want you making copies. You can try a locksmith, but I’m willing to bet he’ll tell ya the same.”

Customer: “I don’t understand. You make keys.”

(The smile returns to my face.)

Me: “We do. Was there anything else I could help you with?”

(There was not. My night improved from there.)

(A year previous to this story, my husband and I moved down the hall in our apartment building. We did everything the landlord asked of us, including taking our blinds to be professionally cleaned. This turned out to be a huge inconvenience, as the landlord required a receipt from one specific cleaning company, who did not make house calls and was located outside the city in a near-rural area. We had to make two round-trips to drop the blinds off and pick them back up. We also did not get reimbursed for doing this. Now fast-forward a year: We are moving overseas. My husband has already left, and I am extremely stressed from dealing with vacating the apartment on my own, as well as the emotional toll of saying goodbye to all my family and friends. I also no longer have access to a vehicle. This conversation takes place on moving day as I am handing my keys over.)

Property Manager: “Okay, I’ve had a look through your place, and it all seems really clean. The only thing is that I haven’t got your receipt from [Blinds Cleaning Company].”

Me: “That’s because I haven’t done the blinds.”

Property Manager: *condescendingly* “Well, that’s going to come out of your damage deposit. The fee for bringing someone in to clean the blinds is [fee].”

Me: “Oh, I know. That’s fine.”

Property Manager: “Why didn’t you do it?”

Me: “Because I did it last year, paid [same fee] to the cleaning company, and didn’t get reimbursed. It also took ages to get out there and back.”

Property Manager: “But you’re supposed to get the blinds cleaned!”

Me: “I know, but it doesn’t make any sense if you’ll just take the same amount out of my damage deposit. The way I see it, by not spending the gas money going all the way out there and back — twice — I’m actually likely saving a bit.”

Property Manager: *silence*

Me: “To be honest, I don’t know why anyone even bothers going out there if you just charge them, anyway.”

Property Manager: “But… it’ll come out of your damage deposit.”

Me: *sigh*

(I don’t think he ever really understood my point!)

(I am shopping at my workplace on my day off.)

Public Announcement: “[My Name] to Cash, please. [My Name] to Cash.”

(Confused, I go to the cash register where I was summoned.)

Coworker: “This customer needs help with something.”

Me: “Uh, you do realize I’m not working today, right? I’m not even in uniform.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, [My Name], but he insists that it must be you who helps him.”

Customer: “Come on, man! It’s just one little thing! You can help me!”

Me: “Nope, I’m not here to help you. I don’t work for free.”

Customer: “That attitude isn’t going to take you very far! If you worked at my company, you wouldn’t last very long!”

Me: “You’re right. I wouldn’t work for a company that operates on slave labor.”

(And with that, I walked out the door. I’ll admit that was a bit snarky of me, but strangers who waste what little free time I have are one of my biggest pet peeves.)