Last year, I spent several hours on the phone with customer support for a major online retailer after their shipping service lost a package with most of the Christmas gifts I had bought for my family, the total value of which was somewhere between $500$ and $600.

I’m pretty sure the driver looked in the package and decided to keep it. I’ve gotten packages delivered by [Company] logistics that look like they’ve been opened or messed with before.

The customer service representative was insistent that they couldn’t ship replacements out. He just kept telling me there was nothing he could do, but he would offer to upgrade me to their subscription service. It was really hard not to laugh at that since I already had [Service].

He even fought me when I gave up on that and tried to get a refund so I could just reorder everything.

After hours of fighting this guy over the phone and being put on hold for over half an hour at a time multiple times, the representative randomly transferred me to someone else without saying anything about it.

The new customer service representative picked up and had no idea what was going on, so I explained the situation to her. She told me to hold on and put me on hold again.

Five minutes later…

Representative #2: “You should have your replacement items in a few days.”

I go to the local chain thrift store frequently to donate stuff. I usually just drop things off at the counter and never bother asking for the donation receipt they offer.

One day when I go in, there is a table near the entrance with paperback books on it, and the sign says, “Special: five books for $1.00”. I rummage through it but can only find four books that interest me. I take them up to the checkout desk, fully intending to pay $1.00 for only four books, even if she rings it up as 80 cents.

Cashier: “That’ll be $4.00.”

Me: *Pointing* “The sign on the table says they’re five for a dollar.”

She informs me, in a voice that a high school librarian would be proud of:

Cashier: “They’re a dollar each. You have to buy five to get the special price.”

So, I simply walk over to the table and select a book at random to add to the four already on the counter. I am holding a dollar bill, but she informs me:

Cashier: “It’ll be $1.06 because of the state tax.”

I’m now positive she is a retired high school librarian.

There is a penny jar next to her, but she doesn’t offer to pull six cents out for me.

I probably have six cents in my pocket or another dollar bill, but I don’t even check. I take a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet and hand it to her. She asks me, escalating to a world-class high school librarian voice:

Cashier: “Don’t you have anything smaller?”

Me: “No, ma’am.”

She gives me $18.94 back in change and then turns away from me, not even offering to put my purchase in one of the paper bags that are stacked behind her.

I immediately place the fifth book on the counter.

Me: “I’d like to donate this book. And can I get a donation receipt, please?”

She has no choice but to completely fill out the receipt for my donation and sign it. She values the donation at 20 cents, and I don’t bother to point out that the thrift shop values the books at $1.00. After she gives me the receipt:

Me: *Very nicely* “Could I have one of those paper bags to carry my books out, please?”

She gave me a withering look, so I just told her to have a nice day and walked out with the four paperbacks.

I have moved into an apartment in a relatively upscale part of London, sharing with two other people. They are both Chinese students who seem to come from very wealthy families as they don’t work, are always out shopping for luxury branded items, and order from [Food Delivery Service] for every… single… meal.

I don’t begrudge them this in any way but as someone who, while not poor, is on a budget and is working to get through university, it’s an interesting observation.

For the last two weeks, my flatmates have been ordering from either the same Chinese or Korean fried chicken place for nearly every meal. After some noticeable digestion issues and weight gain, they decide to order from a salad place.

The [Service] delivery guy is handing my flatmate their packed salads.

Delivery Guy: “I’m so proud of you! This is the healthiest thing you’ve ordered in weeks!”

After the door closes, my flatmates are looking at each other.

Flatmate: “Maaaaaybe we should start cooking at home more.”

I went to a fast food restaurant and put in my order. Please note, the spelling is deliberate to demonstrate how hard it was to understand the employee.

Employee: “Wha’ kina sauce you wan’?”

Me: “What are my choices?”

The employee listed them.

Me: “I’ll have the mustard sauce.”

Employee: “Ho, mee, ow moi?”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Employee: “Ho, mee, ow moi?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Employee: “HO, MEE, OW MOI?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, can you get someone else?”

Manager: “Did you want hot, medium, or mild sauce with that?”

Me: “Neither. I wanted mustard.”

I got my condiment, wondering how the employee got “hot sauce” from “mustard”. Also, a little enunciation, please?

We went to a casual chain restaurant for lunch, and our server was extremely high. He was rude and kind of ignored us, but whatever; it’s [Restaurant].

Then, he came back with our water and spilled an entire glass of ice water on my eleven-month-old’s head. He laughed and walked away, leaving us with a hysterical baby and only a couple of napkins.

Another server came over to help, and at that point, we were all so pissed that we decided to leave, making my two older kids start to cry because they wanted milkshakes.

I went to the counter.

Me: “We just wanted to tell you that we’re leaving.”

Our server started to attack US for being mad that he laughed at spilling water on my baby’s head.

The manager got us the milkshakes to go and gave us a promo for next time, but we never went there again.

I totally understand that mistakes happen, but to laugh about it because you’re stoned at work is unacceptable.