I currently work at a nationwide gaming store. PlayStation 5s are still hard to get. We are getting them once a month to release on a select day, in a bundle, to the premium members of our rewards.

A kid, maybe thirteen years old, comes in during a busy moment in our store and comes to the counter. I’m collecting games for another customer.

Me: “Hi there. How can I help?”

Kid: “You got any PS5s?”

I respond as I’m still searching the drawers for games.

Me: “We are having an event this Saturday. They are going to be sold in a bundle that includes three games, a headset, and a year’s subscription to PSN. They will only be available to premium members.”

Kid: “My cousin is in the car, and he said he would give you two hundred dollars if you sell him one right now.”

I stand upright and look directly at the kid with a deadpan expression.

Me: “Two hundred isn’t worth me losing my job.”

The kid shrugs and walks out. The customer who has been waiting for me to find the games bursts out laughing.

Customer: “You have better control of your temper than I do. I would have laughed in their face and told them to leave.”

It’s the early 1990s, when local telephone companies are still a thing and they charge extra for caller ID — plus you need a compatible phone. I’ve been working nights for several years. I get a phone call one day from a child asking for one of their friends. I let them know they have the wrong number. They refuse to believe that they have the wrong number and start verbally abusing me.

This leads to this kid and other kids prank calling me every few days, using foul language after waking me. I call the phone company.

Me: “I’m getting prank calls from some kids using profanity and harassing me. I’m a day-sleeper so this is a real problem. Can you give me the number they’re calling from so I can talk to a parent?”

Operator: “I can’t give you the number, but I can call the account holder. Let me call you back.”

After about twenty minutes, I get a call from the operator. 

Operator: “I spoke to the mother. She works nights, too. She’s been asleep while the kids are making the calls.” *Laughs* “I don’t think you will get any more calls from them.”

And I didn’t. But I would have loved to see the look on the kids’ faces when they had to wake Mom up and tell her that Ma Bell Security was on the line. And I would have really loved to hear what she said to the kids!

Related:
You Got The Wrongest Number, Part 9
You Got The Wrongest Number, Part 8
You Got The Wrongest Number, Part 7
The Wrongest Number Got You
The Wrongest Reply To The Wrong Number

When I went to pick my daughter up from her first day of preschool, the director wanted to speak to me. Apparently, she stood in front of the class and announced:

Daughter: “My name is [Daughter], I’m a cross-addicted alcoholic, and I’m grateful to be here.”

I then had to explain that her father sometimes brings the kids to his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.

I went home and told my husband, and we laughed and laughed. He didn’t bring the kids to his meetings anymore after that.

I am checking out a mother and her two young children, adorable twin boys likely around four years old. The mother is bagging as I scan the items, and then I give her the total.

To my surprise, one of the boys reaches for his mother’s purse and retrieves a credit card. He then climbs ON TO his brother, leaning against the checkout, to get him to the height where the card machine is.

I’m too much in shock to react, as I witness this child insert the card into the reader, enter the PIN, and press the correct buttons to process the transaction.

The mother has now finished bagging like this has been an entirely normal transaction, the twins have descended back to the ground, and as they depart, I hear one of them say to the other:

Twin: “Next time, it’s my turn to push the magic buttons!”

Luckily, there were no other customers, as I needed a minute.

This story is part of the Readers’-Favorite-Stories Of-2022 roundup!

Read the next Readers’-Favorite-Stories Of-2022 roundup story!

Read the Readers’-Favorite-Stories Of-2022 roundup!

I live in an apartment building. I call the elevator to go up to my floor. Heading in before me is a girl around seven years old, and coming in right behind me is a rough-looking dude with a rottweiler dog. The moment the man enters the elevator, the little girl screams and frantically grabs my arm.

Me: “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Girl: *Stammering and near panic* “D-dog!”

The dog is well-behaved and just sits there patiently, so there is no real danger, but I have an irrational fear of spiders, so I get it. I place myself between the man with the dog and the girl and give her a reassuring smile

Me: “No dog here is going to hurt you. I’m right in between.”

Suddenly, the man speaks up rather aggressively.

Man: “Don’t do that! My dog ain’t bit anyone, ever, and you’re just encouraging her to be afraid of dogs!”

Me: “I’m just trying to not scare a little girl and to keep her comfortable, sir.” 

He mumbles something about bratty kids and exits the elevator on the third floor. I have to go up to the fifth and the girl on the seventh, so I’m left behind with her for a second.

Me: “Are you all right now?”

The girl nodded shyly but still seemed shaken. I got off and wished her a good day. I found out later that she was part of a refugee family that had just moved here from Syria. Her fear of dogs and aggressive men is now somewhat explained, and I hope she doesn’t run into the man again.