About ten years ago, I worked at a bookshop. There was going to be a changeover with the website, so I created a very simple placeholder webpage that listed the contact details for the store. I double-checked all the contact details and, satisfied it was correct, put the page online.

The next day, I received a call while at home.

Me: *Answering on autopilot* “Hello, [Bookshop]. How can I help you?”

As I spoke, I realised what I had done and readied myself for an explanation.

Caller: “Ah, yes, hello. Can you tell me if you have [Book] in stock?”

Me: “Uh… of course! However, can you please call this number, instead?” *Gives the actual store number* “I’m afraid the number on the website isn’t for the shop front.”

Caller: *Slightly confused* “Okay… Thanks!”

After the call ended, I immediately contacted my colleague, who managed to update the site. Somehow, in checking the contact details, I hadn’t noticed that I’d entered my personal address and landline instead of the bookshop’s! In fairness, however, they were on the same road and shared an area code.

Thankfully, there were no other calls to my home number… and I never answered the phone in the same way again!

Two friends and I (along with several thousand other knitters from all over the world) descend on the ancient and beautiful city of Edinburgh, Scotland for the annual Yarn Festival. I’ve booked rooms in a guesthouse, and at breakfast the first morning, we discover that everyone else at the table is there for the same reason. There’s a total of four Americans and two Austrians. We quickly calculate that it will be slightly cheaper and much faster for us to split a taxi fare six ways than to ride the bus to the venue every day.

Although we have all signed up for classes, the real draw is the stunning variety of beautiful wools offered by two exhibition halls worth of vendors. We hold back the first day, but at sunset on the second day, the six of us stagger out of the venerable Corn Exchange heavily laden with purchases.

Our driver watches as we pack bag after bag after bag into his Tardis-like black taxi.

Finally, he asks slyly:

Driver: “Wouldnae it be cheaper tae just tak’ a sheep home wid ye?”

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I paid my way through my degree working part-time around my studies in a job that paid slightly more than minimum wage. Although I was staying with my parents, I was pretty much living from payday to payday.

It was coming up for my sister’s birthday and she asked for a loan.

Me: “I’m really, really skint at the moment. I could loan you £30, but your night out is a week before I get paid. If you don’t pay me back first, I can’t afford to go to your night out.”

Sister: “Of course I’ll pay you back; I want you there for my birthday. Thank you so much.”

The night out came along and I met her at the bar, gave her my gift, and used my last £10 to buy us both drinks. I waited for her to pay me back and the night went on and on and on without her mentioning it.

Me: “Hey, sorry to ask, but do you have the money you borrowed? Remember I told you I was skint? I only have my bus fare home left at the moment.”

Sister: “I can’t believe you are asking for money on my birthday! That’s really classy.”

Me: “Hey, I told you before I gave you the money that I needed it back or I couldn’t come. You promised it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Sister: “Whatever, f*** you.”

She took the money out of her pocket, threw it at me, and stormed off.

My friend and I, both girls and around twenty years old, are on holiday in Scotland. We book a room in a bed and breakfast run by a lovely elderly couple, only to realise we’re the only guests they have that week. It feels more like we’re grandkids visiting instead of being strangers.

One night, we decide to do one of the well-known Haunted Walking Tours of the city, where a guide shows you around the historic and “spooky” parts of town at night. We make sure to tell our hosts that we’ll be out all night.

Me: “We wanted to give you a heads-up that we’ll come back pretty late tonight, probably 1:00 am or later because of the tour. We don’t want to spook you when we get in!”

Host “Dad”: “Oh, sure, that’s fine. Just be careful when you walk back. Don’t go through the park; it’s very dark at night.”

We have a great time during the tour and tiptoe up the hallway of the bed and breakfast at 2:00 am, only to be met with a small lamp still on in the shared living room. Host “Dad” is sitting on the couch in a dressing gown reading a book.

Host “Dad”: “Oh, good! You’re back. Now I can go to bed. Everything went all right?”

The old man — and his wife, probably — were so worried about two young girls being out on the town at night that he waited for us until 2:00 am to make sure we got home safe. To this day, it’s one of the sweetest experiences I’ve ever had travelling.

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I work in a department store that has its own credit card available with store perks, which has good deals especially on days like Black Friday. At the till, the extent of our dealings with the credit card are encouraging customers to apply for the card, giving leaflets with info, and helping customers paying off their monthly bill.

It is my first Black Friday in retail and, unsurprisingly, the queue is out of the door. I have done about four hours so far and although it’s been difficult to keep up a good pace so people don’t get impatient, everyone has been generally very pleasant so far!

An older couple gets to the front of the queue.

Me: “Hi, how can I help?”

Male Customer: “Yes, we have the [Store] credit card and we’ve forgotten the PIN number. Can you sort this out for us, please?”

Me: “The creditors would be the ones who could sort that out for you, with the information you have when you signed up. You can call or email them to request a new PIN, or I can find a number for you here so you can call them.”

Female Customer: “Yes, but we want to use it today. It’s Black Friday. Could you check if our PIN is correct?”

Me: “I’m so sorry, I don’t get access to that information at the till point, unfortunately. Your options are to call up the company at this phone here, or try and purchase an item using your PIN; then you’ll be able to see if you have it correct.”

Female Customer: “This is absolutely ridiculous. Can’t you see if we have the right PIN?”

Me: “I’m very sorry, I don’t have access to customer information and we can’t reset PINs or other personal information at the till point. If you wanted to try and make a purchase, we can check if it’s correct and you can always return it; that’s all I can do.”

The male customer is tutting and turns to shake his head and mutter at everyone behind him.

Male Customer: “This is awful service. It’s a simple task and you can’t do it?”

They are both giving me the evil eye and generally trying to get a consensus from all the other shoppers that I am THE WORST CASHIER EVER.

I am now panicking because the queue is getting longer and I have no clue how to end this and not start crying because I am definitely not thick-skinned enough for retail.

Me: “Let me get my manager and I’ll see what she says is the best option for you.”

My manager hears their predicament.

Manager: “Unfortunately, your only options are to try and purchase an item and see if you remember your PIN correctly, or to call up the credit company to reset your PIN.”

Male Customer: “Oh, we already called them; they said they’re sending out a new PIN within two weeks!”

Me: “…”

Related:
PIN-Headed, Part 12
PIN-Headed, Part 11
PIN-Headed, Part 10
PIN-Headed, Part 9
PIN-Headed, Part 8