It starts out as a normal Saturday night in my small-town restaurant. I come in for my shift at 4:00 pm, and I’m feeling good — ready for the busy night ahead and to make some money.

I go to use the restroom at around 5:00 pm before things start to really pick up and notice that I’m bleeding and slightly cramping. I’ve started my period early — oh, well. I do my thing and go about my business.

My cramps keep getting worse, but it is what it is. We’re busy, and there’s only one other server on with me, so I pop four ibuprofen and keep going. We’re mid-dinner rush at this point.

The cramps are getting worse to the point where I am doubling over behind the bar trying to make drinks. I’m starting to worry, so I try to call the owner who is out of town. No answer.

I go to the restroom and start throwing up. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I have eight tables in the dining area and six people at the bar. There’s absolutely no way I can leave, so I try to find coverage.

Finally, I get someone who’s cross-trained in the kitchen to help out in the dining room until I can get my s*** together. Everything’s getting fuzzy, my hearing is going out, and now I can’t stand. I call my mom.

Me: “I need you to drive me to the emergency room. Something isn’t right.”

After a break, I was not feeling fuzzy anymore, so I tried to continue to help where it was needed before I left.

My mom arrived and I left. I made it to the ER, where I passed out in the waiting area. I came to throwing up yet again what looked like coffee grounds. I was rushed back to a room immediately where multiple tests and ultrasounds were done.

It turned out that my Fallopian tube had ruptured due to pelvic inflammatory disease, which I’d had no idea I had. I had emergency surgery less than an hour later to have my right Fallopian tube removed completely and two blood transfusions because I was bleeding heavily internally.

Trust your body and don’t put your work before your health. I almost died because I didn’t want to leave my coworkers short-staffed.

It’s 1980, and my parents are in the middle of a divorce. Mom finds a place where you can meet with an attorney for free legal advice on a one-time basis. They are very strict about that.

Mom gathers up all the documents she thinks might be relevant and heads off to her appointment.

Mom: “I’m [Mom]. I have an appointment with [Attorney].”

Receptionist: “You’re [Mom’s Full Name]? You can’t see [Attorney].”

Mom: “Why? Is he out sick?”

Receptionist: “No, because you’ve been here before.”

Mom: “No, I haven’t.”

Receptionist: “Yes, you have.”

The receptionist opens a file folder and starts reading.

Receptionist: “You are [Mom’s Full Name]?”

Mom: “Yes.

Receptionist: “Your husband is [Dad’s Full Name]?”

Mom is getting a little creeped out at this point because she doesn’t remember telling them Dad’s name.

Mom: “Well, yes, but…”

Receptionist: “You live in [Wrong Town].”

Mom: “No. I’ve never lived in [Wrong Town]. I live in [Correct Town].”

Receptionist: “You have three sons.”

Mom: “No. I have two daughters.”

Receptionist: “But you have been here before.”

Mom: “No, I haven’t.”

Receptionist: “Yes, you have.”

Mom starts pulling out all of her documents. 

Mom: “Look, here is my driver’s license. It has my full name, birthdate, and address — in [Correct Town]. This is my marriage license. It has both of our full names, my maiden name, and our birthdates. Here are the birth certificates for my two daughters. This is the most recent mortgage statement. It has the address in [Correct Town] and how long we’ve lived there. I brought some other bills, too: gas bill, electric bill, water bill, and phone bill. They all show our address in [Correct Town].”

The receptionist brings out a phone book that covers the whole county. 

Receptionist: “Look, here you are in [Wrong Town].”

Mom takes the phone book and turns the pages. 

Mom: “And here we are in [Correct Town]. This is obviously another couple who just happen to have the same first and last names as my husband and me. As a matter of fact…”

She flips back to the other listing.

Mom: “…they have different middle names than us. See, they included their middle initials.”

The receptionist flips back and forth between the two entries for a few moments.

Receptionist: “Ohhhhh… So, when did you move out of [Wrong Town]?”

She eventually let Mom see the attorney. She didn’t look convinced, though.

I’m sitting at the gate at the airport. I’ve been largely ignoring the PA since they’ve been making boarding announcements for another flight at a neighboring gate. Then, I hear something over the PA that catches my attention.

Airline Employee #1: “I didn’t know you had friends.”

A few people in the waiting area laugh. A few moments later, we hear another announcement.

Airline Employee #2: “I have a lot of friends!”

More laughter.

Airline Employee #3: “Only someone without friends would say that.”

Airline Employee #1: “How much do you pay the ones you have?”

I repeat: this entire conversation happened OVER THE PA, broadcasted to everyone in the multi-gate waiting area. Much to my disappointment, at this point, the employees stopped using the microphone to joke around, but it certainly did break up the monotony of waiting for my flight.

My coworkers and I decide to try a new place for lunch: a deli down the street that serves cafeteria-style. You take a tray, slide it down the counter, and select a sandwich, drink, and dessert at the appropriate places. The sandwiches are made to order by someone who is behind a glass “sneeze shield” — with a shelf above the glass.

My first coworker takes a tray and goes to the sandwich area. The lady behind the counter takes the order and whips the sandwich together. She is amazingly FAST.

Employee: “Place your tray on the shelf.”

He does, and WHAM, the sandwich lands on his tray.

The second coworker goes through the same.

Employee: “Place your tray on the shelf.”

He does, and WHAM, the sandwich lands on his tray.

I go to order my sandwich and put my tray on the shelf. The lady behind the counter looks at me.

Employee: “I DIDN’T TELL YOU TO PUT YOUR TRAY ON THE SHELF YET. PUT IT BACK ON THE COUNTER UNTIL I TELL YOU.”

My coworkers were all in tears laughing and saying, “This could only happen to you.”

I’m the author of this story, about working for my uncle for a ridiculously low “salary”. One day while I was working for him, I and several coworkers at his nonprofit were called into a meeting with a “consultant” that my uncle had hired. She spent half an hour or so giving advice that seemed pretty meaningless and generic to me — lots of buzzwords and platitudes — but no worse than any other consultant.

Then, at the end of the meeting, this happened.

Consultant: “You need to focus on consolidating for a while and not start any new projects because Mercury is in retrograde.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Consultant: “Well, it just makes sense, right? That’s why [Coworker] got overwhelmed and had to go home early.”

Me: “She has the flu!”

Consultant: “No, the energy just isn’t right for new things because of Mercury.”

I’m making $100 a week, but it’s nice to know that at least the company can afford vital resources like an ASTROLOGER!

And to top it off, my uncle gave me a lecture that afternoon about how I needed to be more open-minded. I’m so glad to be out of there now.

Related:
There’s No Room For Error When Working With Family