(I am ordering a pizza from the local pizzeria. I am over seven months pregnant with weird cravings, and I’m moody after a tough day at work, not to mention very hungry. None of these are good excuses for my behavior.)

Me: “Yes, I would like to order a large mushroom, anchovy, and pineapple for delivery.”

Pizza Guy: “Umm, could you repeat that, please?”

Me: “Yes, I would like to order a large mushroom, anchovy, and pineapple for delivery.”

Pizza Guy: “Seriously?!”

Me: “Yes.”

Pizza Guy: *says with a laugh* “What are you, pregnant?”

Me: *half yelling, half crying* “YES! YES, I AM! AND YOU BETTER HAVE IT HERE IN THIRTY MINUTES OR SO HELP ME—“

Pizza Guy: “Yes, ma’am!” *hangs up*

(Of course, I feel bad about yelling almost immediately. By the time the delivery guy shows up, I have my apology ready and a good tip. As I am trying to apologize through tears, he stops me and asks me to eat a slice in front of him. I am so hungry that I do as he asks.)

Delivery Guy: “Lady, we had a bet that this was a prank call. None of us thought anyone would eat it. The pizza is free.”

(I tried to insist he take the money and he even refused the tip. I ordered — and paid — for several more of these pizzas about twice a week. Even now that my kids are in their teens, I still love mushroom, anchovy, and pineapple pizza.)

(I recently ordered a new laptop from a well-known company that also delivers the platform straight to you. It’s a pretty hefty one, basically the type of laptops that is able to run about four different games at once at near perfect quality. I decide to save more money to have it delivered within 72 hours. About two days later, in the middle of the night, I get woken up by banging and screaming. Startled, I run to the door to find a guy HITTING my door with the box in his hand.)

Me: “Dude! What are you doing?!”

Delivery Guy: “I’ve been standing here for the past hour trying to get you to answer the door!”

Me: “I HAVE A F****** DOORBELL!”

(I grabbed the box, locked the door, and opened the box. Thankfully, the laptop was covered in a thick layer of foam things which seemed to have taken the brunt of the attack, but unfortunately, the screen had a pretty big crack in the corner. I took it to corporate who said that though I “broke” it because it was on my property, they’d take the old one and send a brand new one with a letter from the owner itself, as well as an apology letter from the delivery guy. My new laptop is perfect and I’m able to play my favorite games perfectly. That delivery guy, the manager told me, was promptly fired upon his delivery of the letter, banned from the store, got left with the damage bill for a $5,000 gaming laptop, and arrested for vandalism, since he broke my item and left a pretty big dent on the door.)

(I work the front desk for a company that makes movie trailers. Sometimes clients will send gifts to my bosses and use mobile delivery services to do so. One day, a delivery boy from a delivery company comes by to drop off a gift.) 

Delivery Boy: “You guys work in entertainment, right? What exactly do you guys do?”

Me: “We make movie trailers.”

Delivery Boy: “What does [Gift Recipient] do?”

Me: “Um. He is a producer.”

Delivery Boy: “Oh, well, I’m an actor, so would it be all right if I leave my information for him?”

Me: “He produces movie trailers. He is not a movie producer.”

Delivery Boy: “I still like to leave my information for people, just in case.” *begins writing down his information*

Me: “But like I said, we make movie trailers; we don’t make movies. The studios send us the film and we cut it into a trailer. We are post-production.”

Delivery Boy: *continues to write down his “acting” information and then tries to flirt with me for five more minutes*

I work in one of the largest supermarkets in the UK, delivering groceries to customers at home. Today I saw something that actually made me laugh out loud.

Our team of pickers is sent out onto the shop floor to pick the items that customers order. I see a new picker being trained. His next item to pick is a pack of tampons. He walks up the aisle with the supervisor training him, looking incredibly nervous. He finds the tampons, identifies which box to get, and then, using his scanner, he nudges the box around to scan the barcode before using the scanner to sweep it into the tray. Both the supervisor and I are giggling at the seven-year-old style reaction to women’s hygiene products.

That said, I’ve also seen a male customer taking in the shopping pick up a packet of pads and stare at it like an unexploded bomb before his wife just sighed, took it from his hands, and laid it on the countertop.

Do most guys seriously not get how periods work?

My dad owns two properties right next door to each other: one which we live in, and one which he rents out to my great uncle, who is deaf and communicates via sign language. For the sake of simplicity, they’ll be referred to as 121 and 127, respectively. 121 has a long, winding driveway while 127 has a straight driveway. The driveway on 127 is located just enough between the two houses that it could be interpreted as a shared driveway. This is compounded by the fact that, for some reason, the mailboxes for 121 and 127 are both located on 127’s driveway. This has resulted in many deliveries intended for 121 instead being delivered to 127. It’s not much of an issue until the delivery day of a particularly important package.

The driver delivering this package is by far the biggest offender in mixing up addresses. Today is no exception; he attempts to deliver the package to 127 instead of 121 while I’m at work. I return home to find no package. Upon checking the tracking, I notice that the package’s status is listed as “could not be delivered.” I ask my sister if anyone came, but she tells me that nobody did, so I go over to my great uncle. He tells me that someone tried to deliver the package to 127. He tried to tell them that it had to go to 121, but apparently, the driver did not understand sign language, so he put the package back in the van and left.

Annoyed, I call the company and explain the situation to the rep on the other end. They tell me that the driver claimed the package was refused and that it was actually getting ready to go back! I tell them to try delivering it again and they agree. I go into painstaking detail about which house it needs to be delivered to, and that the driveway for 121 is winding, not straight. The representative tells me that they will inform the driver about the details.

I have the following day off, so I stay home to make sure it will be delivered to the correct house. I also ask my great uncle to accept my package and hold it for me in case the company tries to deliver it to him again. Incredibly, even with the specific instructions, they once again attempt to deliver it to 127! After collecting the package from my great uncle, I call the delivery company again and file a complaint against the driver. They tell me that they will put notes for all future deliveries to 121 that the driveway is not shared.

Unfortunately, that specific driver wasn’t fired, and he still insists on delivering packages addressed as 121 to 127 to this very day. I’ve tried everything: having notes added to packages, putting very clear numbers on each house’s respective driveways, and even getting permission from the post office to put 121’s mailbox on 121’s driveway. None of it has gotten through to that specific driver. At this point, it’s honestly a miracle that he’s still working for the delivery company.