A few years ago, I was in a large home improvement store. I had a regular shopping buggy as well as a lumber cart, both filled with materials for whatever remodeling job I was doing at the time. I did have a T-shirt on that matched the aprons worn by employees, but I most definitely did not work there.

As I was going down one of the aisles with both of my carts, an elderly gentleman stopped me.

Man: “Do you work here?”

Me: “I don’t, but I’m happy to help you find what you need.”

We walked a couple of aisles over, leaving my carts in the aisle where we met. As I was explaining the difference between two similar products, another customer came up and was obviously waiting to talk to me. She needed help deciding what kind of doorknob she needed for a storm door, which I gladly helped her pick out.

I was finally able to get back to my carts to finish gathering supplies when an actual employee approached me.

Employee: “Now that you’re done helping customers, do you think you can get all this junk put back on the shelves?”

Me: *Laughing* “No, I’m good.”

The employee got red in the face.

Employee: “You need to put all this crap back or I’ll call the manager.”

At this point, I realized that I was once again being mistaken for an employee.

Me: “Go ahead and call him.”

The employee punched some numbers into his phone and started talking to whoever picked up.

Employee: “The new guy has two carts full of random stuff in aisle [number] and is refusing to put it back on the shelves.”

The manager quickly came to the aisle we were in. I figured at this point everyone could have a good laugh at the misunderstanding. I was wrong!

Manager: “You will take these items and put them back where they belong, or you will be terminated!”

I tried explaining that I didn’t work there but was further verbally abused by the manager.

Manager: “I saw you on the monitors wandering around the store talking to customers when you should’ve been putting all this back where it belongs.”

At this point, I decided I was done with that particular store and just walked out, leaving about $4,000 worth of merchandise sitting on the two carts for someone to put away while loudly telling the manager, “I DON’T WORK HERE!”

Customer: “I’m looking for a white wine I had years ago. It’s popular and I think it’s French.”

My store has a limited selection of French wine and none of it is terribly popular. On a hunch, I skip the French section altogether and show him our second-most-popular Italian wine.

Customer: “Yes! That one! I thought I’d be searching for ages. Thank you.”

I’m still proud of myself for that one.

Before the recent health crisis, I decided it was time to seriously consider entering the housing market. I started saving diligently and attending open houses of all sorts to get a sense of what was out there.

I found one listing that seemed fantastic. It was well maintained and recently updated, it had lots of space, and it was a great price. There was an open house coming up in a couple of days, so I decided to attend.

I walked in and the listing agent was there to greet me. She had a bright and bubbly tone that was almost on the verge of off-putting.

Agent: “Hiii, thanks for coming! Feel free to have a look around, and let me know if you have any questions. I do have to let you know, though, that there was a suicide in the garage!”

Me: “Uhh… Okay, thanks.”

I understand that it has to be disclosed, but the “server telling you about the daily special” tone was really weird.

A number of years ago, I worked for a small, fairly local outsourcing company. I was assigned to work with a particularly high-profile client of theirs. The client’s office was just around the corner from my employer, but my employer insisted that I remain within their own offices to work, so the client provided me with a laptop to use that connected to their network remotely. It’s important to note that whilst the client was decent, my employer had a totally fear-based management culture. The managers wanted eyes on the employees at all times because they assumed people would slack off given half the chance.

After almost a year of working there, I got a call from the client notifying me that my client-given laptop needed some critical updates, and I would have to bring it in so IT could apply the updates locally. All sounded very reasonable to me.

I brought this to the attention of my manager and advised that I would be out of the office for a while so I could take my laptop to the client site around the corner for critical updates. No bueno. My manager ignored everything about the “critical updates” part and focused instead on the “out of our office for two hours” part. They insisted that they knew I had a remote connection to the client’s office, so any updates could be applied without me needing to leave and take my laptop anywhere. I got the impression they thought I was lying to get some free time off.

I decided that this had the potential to teach my employer and the managers a great lesson about not trusting their own employees, so like the model employee I was, I shrugged and said, “You know best, boss,” and complied with their request, continuing working as usual… until the following morning, when I switched on my laptop and nothing would work.

The machine refused to connect to the client’s remote network. The various software applications I used for my job also wouldn’t run due to the lack of connection. Error messages flashed up on every file I tried to access, warning me that my credentials had been blocked. I was left holding a very expensive brick.

My manager was livid when I explained I couldn’t do any work. They clicked around on my laptop trying to fix it themselves, but there was no other solution to be had. They sent me around the corner to the client’s office so I could hand in my laptop to IT. I took my time enjoying a coffee and breakfast in the client’s onsite cafe whilst IT worked on my laptop, but when I went to check on it after an hour, I believe the client IT manager’s words were, “It’s f***ed.”

The critical update mentioned before was intended to repair something wrong with the way the remote connections worked. When my machine didn’t get the update, it lost connection with the client’s network and immediately locked me out of everything, effectively blacklisting my credentials. IT manager explained that they would have to build me an entirely new machine and set up new accounts, a process that would take about a week to ensure everything filtered through correctly and could be tested.

The client was fine and understanding about it, but when I returned empty-handed to my employer’s office, my manager got extremely snotty with me and insisted I still had to work somehow. I pointed out that I had no client laptop to work on, so instead of sending me home, they forced another employee to share her computer with me. For the next week, I and my colleague shared her computer, one hour each at a time. As I had no access to any of my files, client data, etc., all I could do was the barest minimum of work, sending a few emails from my colleague’s account.

After a week, I got my new client laptop and things went back to normal, but the week of sharing meant my employer had lost around forty hours of productivity from two employees. The shared pain of the experience with my colleague brought us closer together, and when my employer lost their contract with my client a few years later, she helped me get a new job with my employer’s competitor.

I like to shop in thrift stores and search for rare things or bargains. I especially love to buy books.

A couple of years ago, I visited a thrift store close to my home, run by the local church. I found so many fantastic books that I had to go get a shopping cart as I couldn’t possibly fit all my amazing finds in a basket.

It was fairly empty in the store, and as the staff packed the books in four bags, they were clearly a little worried.

I was a regular, and they had clearly spotted me in the neighbourhood. They were worried about how I would be able to carry everything home. It’s just a five-minute walk, but with four loaded book bags, that would be quite challenging. So, the lovely people at the checkout offered to drive me home.

Me: “Oh, thank you so much for your kind offer! I’m planning to take a cab home; I agree that it would be impossible to carry all these bags home.”

I loaded the bags into the cart and walked outside, where I unloaded the cart and called for a cab. One of the cashiers followed after me and retrieved the cart.

Me: “Oh, I was going to return that.”

Cashier: “You don’t need to. It’s such a slow day, I can do it.”

So, I sat down and waited for the cab, instead. For a whole minute.

But it is a sign that you might have shopped a little more than you really should when the staff offers to drive you home.