I’m making a phone call to a credit card company.

Me: “Hello! I have a [Hotel Chain] credit card with you. I am trying to redeem some rewards points. I was told by [Hotel Chain] that, somehow, when my card was opened, a separate rewards account was opened with it. I don’t have the rewards account number associated with my credit card, and [Hotel Chain] told me I could get that information from you.”

Representative: “Yes, ma’am, I would be glad to help you with that. Your account number is the same as your credit card number.”

Me: “Oh! Really? So, I can use that to log in to my rewards account?”

Representative: “Yes, ma’am, that is your account number.”

Me: “Well, I know how to log in to my credit card account. What I’m looking for is the account number of the rewards account attached to the credit card.”

Representative: *Loudly* “YES, MA’AM, YOUR CARD NUMBER IS YOUR ACCOUNT NUMBER!”

Me: “Yes, I understand that. What I am looking for is the rewards account number associated with the—”

Representative: “OKAY, MA’AM, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, SO I WILL TRANSFER YOU TO SOMEONE IN THE CREDIT CARD DEPARTMENT SO YOU WON’T BE CONFUSED!”

Me: “Gee, thanks.”

Lo and behold, when I talked to someone in the credit card department, she could immediately give me the number. Amazingly, it was not the credit card number. Good thing she helped me NOT BE CONFUSED.

I work in a restaurant. I had no more than four hours of sleep last night despite going to bed at 20:00 (8:00 pm). I arrive at work at open — 06:00 — get changed slowly, and start slowly cleaning the things that need to be cleaned during open. I’m vaguely wondering who I’m supposed to be opening with and when they’re going to arrive. I’m moving very slowly because I’m so tired.

I get done with the first half and get ready to mop. I check the time and it’s 06:35, so whoever’s supposed to work with me is very late. I look at the rota to check who was supposed to be on with me… and I’m on my own. That is, I was purposely scheduled to do this on my own.

Cue panic since I’ve got just over an hour to sort the defrost, which I’ve never done before but have vaguely heard about. I’m also panicking because I can’t find things in the freezer, panicking because I don’t know how to count the food, and just panicking in general because I’m on my own and haven’t seen another person since I walked into the staff-only area.

Later, I’m nowhere near done with the defrost but notice that the fryers aren’t set up yet. Then, I notice that nothing is on except the fridges. The fryers have an “ON” button, so I press it. They light up and the display reads “OFF”, so now I’m really panicking. I go to see (again) if there’s anyone in the corridor, notice that the time is now 07:50 or so, and panic more because I have ten minutes left before food starts being ordered.

Finally, I find a manager who helps turn things on, and a coworker comes in at 08:00 and says she’ll finish sorting the defrost.

The grills never turned on and I don’t think my coworker ever did finish the defrost.

Either way, I felt like I was going to hyperventilate and then throw up and then collapse, and I felt like that until my break. After my break, I was just tired and had a stomachache. Then, I splashed hot oil onto my thumb, which still stings.

That was a fun day.

Shortly after starting a new job, I stop for groceries and a pack of beer to celebrate. Grocery stores in this state have to physically scan an ID for a beer sale to go through.

Clerk: “That will be [price], and can I see your ID?”

Me: “Sure… Oh. Oh, h***.”

Sure enough, the Human Resources representative who needed my ID and social security card for new hire intake left them both on the copy machine, and after the two-hour intake process, we both forgot.

I explain the situation to the clerk.

Me: “So, no ID, no sale, right?”

Clerk: “Sorry.”

Me: “No, I get it, store policy. My bad. I’ll put it back.”

Clerk: “Thanks. Hey, why don’t you take a salsa from the deli? On the house, for being cool, and for your new job party?”

Be decent to employees and admit your mistakes; it’s not only polite, but you might get salsa.

I developed back problems from constantly sitting at a desk job and decided to seek a massage. I found a massage parlor ran by a group of young Thai women who all used Disney character names as their work names.

My first few visits were nothing notable. However, one of the girls on hand named “Jasmine” was not a particular favorite of mine; she was rather rough with her fingers and she had a strange odor about her. I decided after two sessions with her that she would be someone I would politely pass on when offered.

Then, along came “Bambi”, a girl with a touch like magic that would put me to sleep throughout the entire sessions. I went from paying for one-hour-long sessions with her to two-hour-long sessions, and I would give her a tip along with it all. This ended up igniting a serious problem.

Every time I would show up for a massage, Jasmine would answer the door to tell me that Bambi was not there and that all the other girls were busy. She would then try to pull me into a room despite my protesting that I was only interested in a massage from Bambi. It should be noted that there was a camera in the hallway leading to the door, so the girls could see the customers as they were approaching.

I then resorted to phoning in and reserving appointments with Bambi. This worked a few times until one occasion.

Me: “Hi there. I have an appointment with Bambi at [time].”

The girl at the desk looked at her computer screen with a puzzled expression.

Receptionist: “There are no scheduled appointments for Bambi.”

Right on cue, Jasmine popped up out of nowhere.

Jasmine: “I’ll take you!”

She began pulling me to a room. This time, I loudly protested, and they ended up producing Bambi for my requested appointment.

Later on, I appeared for another appointment with Bambi, and all was going smoothly until Jasmine walked into the room, handed Bambi a phone, and said something in Thai. Bambi took the phone and excused herself outside of the room with an uncomfortable expression on her face, with Jasmine following behind and closing the door. I put my head back down into the face cushion and waited.

About thirty seconds or so later, I heard the door open and promptly close, and then I felt a set of hands rubbing on my calf. I immediately returned to my relaxed state. This was shortly interrupted by the sound of someone frantically twisting that was clearly a locked doorknob, followed by a thunderous banging on the door and shouting something in Thai repeatedly.

I looked up to behold Jasmine with her grubby paws on my calf, looking like she’d been caught with her hand in the cafe tip jar. She rushed over and opened the door, and she and Bambi engaged in a screaming match in Thai while a third girl desperately tried to break the two combatants up. Once the situation was finally defused, Bambi furiously slammed the door shut and walked toward me yelling:

Bambi: “Can you believe that b****? She called my boyfriend and said I needed to talk to him about something really important. And she knows we’re having problems right now!”

After that incident, I decided to refrain from visiting that parlor for a few months, hoping that by the time I returned, Jasmine would have either moved on or been fired. After booking an appointment with Bambi, who was still there, I showed up… and who should answer the door but Jasmine.

I wasn’t having it this time. I put my hand up.

Me: *Firmly* “Bambi! I’m here for Bambi!”

Jasmine: “Yes, massage with Bambi. Please come in.”

She led me into a room and pointed to the massage bed.

Jasmine: *Casually* “You can get undressed.”

I decided not to make any further moves until Bambi personally walked through the door. As I stood there fully clothed and pacing in a semi-circle, I noticed Jasmine was still standing there with an expectant look on her face.

Me: “Bambi! I’m here to see Bambi!”

Jasmine: “Yes. Bambi!”

An awkward silence followed.

Me: *Confused* “Bambi! I want Bambi!”

Jasmine: “Yes! Bambi! Me! You book a two-hour massage, I give it to you, you always like it, you always pay and give a big tip and say I’m the best, and you always come back for me!” *Points to herself* “Bambi! You just forgot what I look like because it’s been a very long time. Please undress.”

I left and never went back again.

I went out for dinner with my mom, my paternal uncle, my cousin, her husband, and their young son at a steakhouse-traditional restaurant hybrid. At the start, everything went pretty smoothly; we got seated and received our drinks rather quickly. Then, it was time to order. Among our orders, my cousin ordered a burger and fries for the little one.

The server sounded a bit unsure, but she still took our orders, and off she went. The kid was already fairly hungry, so when some of the first dishes arrived, he got a bit overexcited. I decided to let him taste my pasta, and, since he liked it and it was a large portion, I gave him a few more forkfuls.

Soon after, almost everything else arrived. The fries and burger did not, and obviously, my cousin’s little boy was still hungry. His father tried to distract him with his phone.

Cousin’s Husband: “All of your food will arrive when the steaks do! Don’t worry.”

The steaks got served, but neither the fries nor the hamburger was anywhere to be seen. The boy’s disappointment was immeasurable, and he started whining about not receiving his food. He began acting up, and nothing would work to get him to settle down and wait. His mother decided to gesture and get a server’s attention.

Cousin: “Hey, how’s that burger coming along? The creature’s about to blow up.”

For some reason, the server got up close to the kid, bent over, and spoke to him in a voice that I’m still not sure was an attempt at a sing-song voice or mocking:

Server: “Oh, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Don’t worry; your little burger is coming very soon!”

Then, she winked at my cousin.

We assumed they had just forgotten his food and were going to make it right then and there, so we decided to keep on eating, but even after we were done, there was no trace of either the hamburger or the fries. The only reason the poor kid didn’t try to devour a cat that passed by was that we gave him a bit of our food each.

By the time we started ordering desserts, the kid was already half-asleep, so the point of asking how it was coming along was moot, but we figured it was a good idea to ask the waiter taking our dessert orders what had happened. Apparently, according to his pager, no fries had been ordered at the table and the waiter had no idea what had happened.

Since my mom was paying for dinner that night, she decided to go inside and ask what had happened exactly for the order to be seemingly lost twice, and I followed her inside. The server that had taken our orders at the beginning was manning the till.

Server: “Oh, hey. Was everything to your liking?”

Mom: “Yes, mostly, but, there was one problem. The little one didn’t get his burgers and fries, despite us ordering them twice over. Did something happen in the kitchen?”

The server shrugged and delivered the bombshell.

Server: “Oh, with the size of your orders, I thought you all were ordering the burger and fries just to get him to shut up, given that children don’t usually eat much.”

I stared at her, quite dumbfounded. With an icy glare, my mom asked for the manager, and the server gestured wildly in the kitchen’s general direction. In a few seconds, a man with a big “Manager” label sewn on the apron approached us.

Manager: “What’s the problem tonight?”

Mom: “This waiter over here didn’t take our full order.”

Server: *Snapping back* “Lady, had we taken it, I bet you’d be here complaining about having to pay for food that had been left untouched.”

To be frank, I was quite angry and pretty confused at her reasoning, as was my mom, and seemingly even the manager wasn’t liking her attitude at all

Manager: “Well, [Server], why don’t you come in the kitchen with me?”

The server huffed and crossed her arms while walking into the kitchen. I’m not quite sure I understand what she was trying to accomplish, but it’s guaranteed that restaurant isn’t on our list of places to go anymore.