Shortly after the lockdown in my area ended, everyone was required to wear masks in public. It was kind of annoying because stores could get fined if a customer didn’t have a mask on. I mean, I understand the reasoning, but it’s not like it’s MY fault that a customer stepped in the door and got missed in the bustle. But whatever.

This guy comes in without a mask, so we ask him — very nicely — to put one on, and he just goes off, screaming about his rights, and blah, blah, blah.

Now, I have allergies and, due to sinus drainage, I get this ridiculous deep-throat cough that literally sounds like I have tuberculosis or something. It strikes without warning, and I cannot control it, usually for a good two or three minutes. It’s bad.

This guy is at the height of his rant when my cough strikes!

My coworkers are actually all used to my cough and typically explain to customers that it’s just from allergies. This time, they all collectively — without discussing it — decide to use this opportunity and take a step back from me.

The guy’s rant fizzles quickly and he slowly backs out of the store, and my coworkers share a laugh. I join them once I’m done coughing!

I was on a direct flight from Los Angeles to Taiwan during the global health crisis, which is quite a long flight but was quite empty due to air traffic being almost nonexistent in 2020.

My mom flies so often for work that she usually manages to get upgrades to business class, which is what happened this time, as well. Because of how strict Taiwan was at the time (only allowing people with a visa or passport from Taiwan into Taiwan), the business class was also quite empty; there was maybe one other person besides us.

I draw a lot, and I was working on a particularly complicated piece when one of the flight attendants came by and asked if I wanted another bottle of water.

I’m consistently thirsty most of the time on planes, so I said yes and took it, though I felt bad because I assumed they thought I’d already drunk my other bottle of water and were offering another one for that reason.

It wasn’t until we were past customs that my mom noticed the extra bottle and asked me in confusion where I’d got it, having drunk hers and not received an extra. We pondered over it before she laughed and told me what had happened.

I apparently was so busy drawing that I never noticed the flight attendant standing just behind me slightly, watching me draw.

They apparently enjoyed watching enough to give me an extra water. We’re pretty sure this was the reason, as it didn’t seem like any of the other business class passengers got an extra water at any point.

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Death

I’m a nurse in a hospital. I worked with a young woman in my first year after training. She is a perfectly pleasant individual but a little bit naïve and not the sharpest. She became a nurse because she is a genuinely caring individual, but she is also a daughter of rich parents, so she’s been a bit sheltered in her upbringing.

Around 2021, when the world has gone crazy and healthcare workers are being put through the wringer, she finally decides she can’t hack it right now and takes a sabbatical for a year. No one blames her; if we had rich parents to fall back on when the going got tough, we would, too!

However, as previously mentioned, she’s a lovely person, and she calls us regularly to catch up and talk to whoever is on break. We’ll call her Mandy. She actually spoke to a bunch of us over these next few calls, but to make the storytelling easier we’ll say it was just her and me talking.

Mandy: “My parents got tired of me lounging around the house all day, so they got me a job.”

Me: “Oh, really? What will you be doing?”

Mandy: “Our neighbors — the really rich ones — are going away skiing for a couple of weeks.”

Her family is already rich, so for her to consider this family “rich” must make them pretty loaded.

Mandy: “They have this old dog they don’t want to put in the kennel, so my parents volunteered me to live in their mansion for two weeks to look after the dog.”

Me: “Oh! That’s good!”

Mandy: “It’s sweet! Big house all to myself, a cute dog, and I’m getting paid! What could go wrong?”

A lot, dear reader. A lot could go wrong.

Two days later, we’re talking to Mandy again, but this time it’s not a social call.

Mandy: “The dog! The dog is dead!”

Me: “What happened?!”

Mandy: “I don’t know! I did everything I was supposed to, and when I woke up this morning, the dog was just dead!”

Me: “How old was the dog?”

Mandy: “Fifteen.”

Me: “That’s a pretty good age for a dog; it was probably his time.”

Mandy: “Yeah, he was on a lot of medications. What do I do?!”

Me: “Well, you have to call the family.”

Mandy: “But… what do I tell them?!”

Me: “You tell them that, unfortunately, it was the dog’s time. He lived a long good life and he went peacefully in his sleep.”

She is scared and understandably distressed, but she agrees this is the right thing to do and we end the call. She calls back a few hours later.

Mandy: “So, I called them.”

Me: “And?”

Mandy: “Well, they were pretty angry, but they understood it wasn’t my fault. They don’t want to come back from their vacation, so they’ve asked me to take the dog to a pet crematorium.”

Me: “Okay, glad you got it sorted.”

At the end of the shift, she calls back yet again.

Mandy: “The dog is gone!”

Me: “Well, yes, you told us that he passed already—”

Mandy: “No, as in actually gone!”

Me: “Mandy… what happened?”

Mandy: “Well, the pet crematorium was on the other side of town, so I took the subway—”

Me: “Wait, stop. You took a dead dog on the subway?“

Mandy: “Well, yeah it was a long way.”

Me: “You couldn’t spring for a [Rideshare]?”

Mandy: “I’m not putting a dead dog in a [Rideshare]!”

Me: *Pinching my nose* “So, how did you carry this poor dog, Mandy?”

Mandy: “In a luggage suitcase. I got to the station, and I was carrying it up the stairs, but this dog was a heavy Rottweiler and I was struggling a bit. This handsome guy came up to me and offered to help me carry it to the street, so I said thanks! He carried it to the top, and he said, ‘It’s really heavy. What’s in here?’”

Me: “What did you say?”

Mandy: “I didn’t want to tell him there was a dead dog in there! So I just lied and said I was a DJ, and I was playing in a club tonight, and this was all my equipment. And then he ran off with it.”

Me: “He what?!“

Mandy: “He ran off with the luggage.”

Me: “The luggage containing the dead Rottweiler?”

Mandy: “Yes! What do I do?”

Me: “Where are you?”

Mandy: “I’m still here at the exit. I’m across the street from the crematorium place.”

Me: “Well, the crematorium is right there, and they’re still expecting you. Go in and explain what happened.”

Mandy: “Will they help?”

Me: “Mandy, I honestly cannot say at this point, but the very least you can do is explain why they’re expecting to cremate a dog and now there is no dog.”

Again, she reluctantly agrees, and I go home with a story to tell the family.

The next morning, we get a call. Yep, it’s Mandy.

Mandy: “I explained it to the crematorium. They were shocked, but they’re also like, hey, it’s New York; stranger things have happened.”

Me: “So, what happened?”

Mandy: “Well, they had just finished with a Saint Bernard, so they gave me some of the leftover ashes and I’ve taken them back to the house.”

Me: “Wait… They faked the Rottweiler’s ashes?”

Mandy: “Yeah, they’re washing their hands of it. They said I can tell the neighbors what I want to.”

Me: “And…?”

Mandy: “What would you do?”

Most of the team advised her to be honest but, in the end, agreed it was her decision. However, all of the team wondered what the thief’s face looked like when he opened that luggage expecting some sweet DJ equipment… and found a dead dog.

Mandy came back to work last week. She still hasn’t told us what she decided to tell her neighbors.

I am going through the store, picking up the items customers have left behind in the wrong locations so that, when we close, we can sort them and put them back in the right locations.

My store has stopped mandating the wearing of masks, but I continue to wear one because I think it’s kind of nifty not to douse people in germs and micro-spit particles when you talk to them.

A customer approaches, so I get ready to ask if she’s finding everything okay. She’s not wearing a mask.

Customer: “Why are you covering your face?”

Me: “I’m trying to be conscientious during a [health crisis] and take precautions against spreading disease to others.”

Customer: *Leans in conspiratorially* “I seen you before the [health crisis], though, and you didn’t show your face, then, either. Maybe you just ain’t got a face worth showin’.”

Now that the health crisis is over, my place of work wants to hold little parties so that all of us remote workers can meet each other. Most of these are at bars. I don’t drink, so I usually don’t bother to show.

They schedule one such meeting at a bar that’s pretty close to my house. I tell them I’m not going to show because I don’t drink, but they badger me into promising to come to this because it’s so close to my house. Apparently, they chose it specifically so they could meet me.

The day comes and I bicycle to the bar in question. I arrive on time and wait for an hour for anyone else to arrive. I double-check my email to make sure the address and bar name are correct repeatedly. No one shows, not even the Human Resources guy who was so enthused to meet me.

Finally, I buy myself a Shirley Temple, a Virgin Mary, and a plate of wings and have a little party all by myself. I then submit it as an expense.

To my mild surprise, the company reimburses me for it.

When I ask Human Resources about it, they avoid the topic instead of explaining why they didn’t show up.