(My whole family is made up of geeks. My mom and sister “pass” as normal unless you find just the right topic, but the geekiness is still there. Mom doesn’t seem to see it that way, though, and insists she just indulges the rest of us. I’m talking to my mom about a convention a friend of mine and her brother went to that weekend.)

Me: “It’s the first time [Brother] has ever done a full weekend at a con because his wife just doesn’t get the appeal and begrudges the cost, but [Friend] brought him as a combination birthday/Christmas gift. [Brother]’s wife is, apparently, a total… well, [Friend] and I call them ‘muggles.’ — people with no connection or interest in nerd things at all who just don’t get it.”

Mom: *brightly* “Like me!”

Me: *after a pause* “Mom, you spend all year putting together your costume for your weekend-long Steampunk murder mystery LARP. You are not a muggle; you’re just niche.”

(Yes, I’m aware that the usage of “muggle” is common online and in my generation. My friend and I didn’t invent it. However, opening that can of worms with my mother would have derailed the conversation into speculation about linguistic shift, as it has done in the past. And I stand by my assessment. Mom used to pick situationally appropriate songs for her D&D bard to be singing and was the reason we used to get so many story modifiers on our bluff checks. No one who has proper opinions on the point in time when it becomes more effective to Aid Another rather than to try and hit the monster themselves should really be calling themselves a “muggle.”)

(My brother and I own a small bake shop. We give a discount to students, but people are always trying to scam us to get the discount when they don’t deserve it.)

Me: “Okay, your total is [amount].”

Customer: “But what about the discount?”

Me: “Are you a student?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Then you don’t get one.”

Customer: “What about the family discount?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “The owner’s my kid brother. Family gets a discount here. Didn’t they tell you when they hired your stupid a**?”

Me: “One sec.” *turns towards the kitchen* “Yo! [Brother]! Come out here for a sec.”

(My brother, who is 6’5″ and built like a train, comes out and towers over my “brother” and me.)

Brother: “What?”

Me: “Apparently, I’m not the eldest. Meet our older brother.”

(The customer is starting to look pretty nervous now.)

Me: “Now, he’s our brother, and we should treat him with respect, but apparently, I didn’t do a good enough job explaining the discount. Could you assist?”

(My brother has a slight language disorder, so he doesn’t mince his words, and he does not suffer fools gladly. Now very grumpy, he turns towards our would-be brother.)

Brother: “Is he a student?”

Me: “Nope!”

([Brother] crouches down and looks the customer dead in the eye.)

Brother: “No. Discount.”

(I work the late shift at a hotel. While it’s not unusual for people to comment about my hours, this is definitely the most amusing conversation to date.)

Woman: “Oh, my God, are you still cleaning?”

Me: “Yes, I am the late shift.”

Woman: “What? You clean all night?”

Me: “Not normally; the odd time I’ll be here until midnight, but normally 10 or 11. Tonight I’m off at 11.”

Woman: “Wow, you are a hard worker.”

Man: “You must do the work crews.”

Me: “Yes, sir, my main responsibility is cleaning the rail crews’ rooms since they are constantly routing.”

Woman: “So, someone does cleaning all night?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I am the late cleaner and we have an early cleaner who starts at five am. There is no housekeeper for the slowest part of the night, but if needed the front desk will clean a room for them.”

Man: “You do what you have to. How are the rest of the rooms divided up?”

Me: “We have other housekeepers who work normally eight to four; their job is the regular guest rooms. If the early cleaner or I have free time we will also clean the regular rooms.”

Woman: “Twenty-four-seven cleaning is crazy! I will write to your head office for you and I promise we will never stay with this hotel again!” *walks off before I can say anything*

It’s a busy day at the restaurant where I’m a dishwasher. I hear a lot of stories that the servers tell us in the kitchen. This is one of them.

A waitress comes in, saying how rude a customer is being because they got the wrong order. It’s a simple mistake, right? When she apologizes to them, saying that it’s an honest mistake — the food is for another table — the customer replies with, “Well, there goes your tip.”

Since the employees are allowed to somewhat tell off rude customers, my coworker replies with, “Bud, I’m not here for the tips; I’m here for the fun.”

Seriously, people. We’re all allowed to make mistakes. Being penalized your tip shouldn’t be any sort of punishment. There should be no punishment at all, really.

(I am an admin, and I’m in charge of booking a hotel room for my boss. I use the company card to pay for it, but since it has my name on it, I need to fill out a credit card authorization form. I call a particular hotel asking for the form and receive it via fax, except the form isn’t empty. It has another person’s credit card information on it! The credit card is in date, and from a stay in the hotel from six months ago! I call to ask them to check and make sure it won’t happen again and get an actual blank form.)

Desk Agent: “Hello, [Hotel] front desk. How can I help you?”

Me: “Hi I called a few moments ago about a credit card authorization form and—“

Desk Agent: *interrupting me* “Yes, I just sent it. Please check your fax machine.”

Me: “No, actually, I—“

Desk Agent: *still interrupting me* “Please check your fax machine, ma’am.” *click*

(I sit for a moment, staring at my phone, and then I call back.)

Desk Agent: “Hello, [Hotel] front desk. How can I help you?”

Me: “Hi. I received a filled-out credit card authorization form.”

Desk Agent: “Do you need help filling it out?”

Me: “No, I wanted you to know that you sent me one already filled out.”

Desk Agent: “That’s not possible, ma’am.”

Me: “It is, because it happened.”

Desk Agent: “You must be mistaken. There is no way a filled-out form made it to you. Just fill out the form.”

Me: “It’s filled out with another organization’s credit card.”

(We go back and forth like this for another few minutes until I finally have enough.)

Me: “Look, do you want me to believe me, or should I just call that other person and tell them that their credit card information was just randomly given out?”

Desk Agent: “Fine, I will send you another form via fax. Please fill it out.” *click*

(After getting the correct, blank form, I shred the filled out one. The exchange isn’t sitting well with me the next day, so I call the hotel back. The same desk agent answers the phone.)

Me: “Hi, I would like to speak to a manager.”

Desk Agent: “She’s quite busy right now; she can’t take a call.”

Me: “Oh, I think she will want to take a call about your hotel breaking all sorts of privacy.”

(The desk agent grumbled but finally passed me off to the manager. The manager was fairly grumpy at first but after I told her my story, she went silent. She very calmly thanked me for my honesty, and in a very angry voice told me that she will handle it. I’m hoping that front desk agent got a lesson in privacy and taking it seriously!)