Our office has a small front porch area, screened in with a metal screen, bars, and a locking gate so we can securely store stuff there. I put my bike there during the work day, since there’s always someone at the front desk who can see it, but other than that, all that’s out there is empty water cooler bottles and a couple of random items.

One Sunday night, the porch was broken into by someone who cut a hole in the metal screen and reached in to unlock the door. Fortunately, there was nothing of value, so the thief just took some random things like a hand truck and a cooler that were out there. The office manager called the police as soon as she saw, and the police came and took some evidence.

Later, the office manager was telling my boss and me about it.

Office Manager: “We found a contact lens in its packaging out there, so the officer took that as evidence. None of you are missing a contact, are you?”

Boss: “Probably not… What type of contact?”

Office Manager: “It was a daily wear one, and the prescription was like -7.50; it was like a blind lady’s contact!”

Boss: “So, we’re looking for a blind thief!”

Me: “Wait… -7.50 is my prescription.”

Office Manager: “Do you wear daily contacts?”

Me: “Yes, when I’m not wearing my glasses… Hang on…”

I look in my purse, and I am indeed missing one of the spare contacts that I carry in case one falls out.

Me: “Crap.”

Office Manager: “Was that your contact?”

Me: “Yes! It must have fallen out of my bag when I was parking my bike out there! Now the police have it, with my fingerprints on it!”

Boss: “You’re the blind lady thief!”

Fortunately for me, the police in our city are famously lazy and they don’t investigate anything short of murder, so I’m not worried they’ll trace the contact lens back to me and arrest me.

I’m at the store buying groceries and a cider.

Clerk: “That will be [total].”

Me: “Oh, rats, I forgot my pocketbook on my desk. With all my cards in it. Well, that’s okay; I can pay cash,”

Clerk: “In that case, can I see some ID?”

The policy is to card people who look under twenty-five. I’m forty-one. But okay, it’s your job.

Me: “Well, obviously not. I forgot all my cards.”

Clerk: “In that case, I cannot sell you this.” *Points to the cider*

Me: “Yes, I understand. Would you put it aside for me? I work on the other side of the same building; I can go get my pocketbook in a minute.”

Clerk: “I cannot sell you this without ID.”

Me: “I understand; I wasn’t arguing. Could you please put it aside for me for five minutes while I go get my ID?”

Clerk: “But I cannot sell that to you without ID.”

Me: “We established that. Could you please put it aside for me? I can get my ID in under five minutes.”

Clerk: “But I cannot sell this to you without ID.”

Me: “Yes. I know. Which is why I am now going to go and get my ID.”

Clerk: “But I cannot sell this to you without ID!”

Me: “Yes. I forgot my ID on my desk. I will go get it now. I am merely asking you to put my cider aside, so I don’t have to look for it again.”

Clerk: *Agitated* “But I cannot sell it to you without ID!”

Various versions of this go on for a good while; I don’t want my cider returned to the shelf as it is a rare sort and hard to find. Eventually, I just leave — literally to the other side of the building — fetch my pocketbook, and hope my cider will still be there. It is in the stack of “return to shelf” items.

Clerk: “But you have ID? Why?”

Me: *Sigh*

I’ve had a long day at work and don’t feel like cooking, so I order some takeaway using a well-known app. After a certain time, I get a call from the delivery driver.

Driver: “Hi, I’m at [Location]. I need you to come out to me.”

Me: “But that’s over a mile away. My address is [address].”

Driver: “I know, but I don’t want to walk through the park. There are some teenagers playing football there.”

Me: “You don’t need to walk through the park. There’s a road round the outside. You can drive.”

Driver: “Well, I’m parked now, so just get down here!”

Me: “No. You’re being paid to deliver to the door. Now phone me back when you’re here!”

I ring off so he can’t respond. Shortly afterward, the app informs me that he’s marked my food as delivered. I inform the company that it has not been. They apologise and refund me. Not long afterward, I get an angry call from the driver.

Driver: “Oh, thanks a bunch. Now they’ve fired me!”

Me: “You should have done your job, then!”

My late brother related this story to me many years ago. It was the mid-1980s, and all his children were still in school. He’d always wanted to get a set of that well-known encyclopedia and figured this would be a good time, since his kids would also make great use of them.

He contacted the company and they sent over a salesman. My brother was interested in buying the whole set all at once, as opposed to one or two volumes a month. He also was not interested in any kind of financing. He had some friends that had told him more or less what to expect and that he would save a decent amount of money by purchasing the entire set all at once. They warned him that the salesman would probably try to hide the true price behind all kinds of financing tricks and whatnot. He had at least a ballpark cost in mind, and he was prepared for any tactic the salesman would try to pull on him.

The salesman showed up and had brought a complete, brand-new set with him. He spent about twenty minutes showing all the features to my brother, his wife, and the kids. He also mentioned that this edition was the newest version that had just come out in the past couple of months, so my brother would be getting the newest version available, and that the next version would not be released for several years.

After the salesman completed his spiel, my brother asked him this simple question:

Brother: “Okay, I really like this encyclopedia and would like to get the whole set from you tonight. What is the price to buy the entire set from you right now?”

Salesman: “Well, we have payment plans starting at only $20.00 a month and—”

My brother interrupted him.

Brother: “I asked you for the price for the whole set, no financing or payment plans.”

Salesman: “Well, we have plans where you can buy just one volume per month—”

My brother interrupted again.

Brother: “That’s not what I asked you. How much is it to buy the whole set?”

Salesman: “We can do another type of plan, where you can purchase either two, three, or four volumes per month, and you’d pay around $20.00 a month, per volume, so you’d get the complete set much faster, with the payments then spread out over—”

My brother interrupted yet again, now really aggravated.

Brother: “What part of ‘What is the price of the entire set?’ do you not understand?”

Salesman: “Well, we have several payment plans that fit any budget.”

Brother: “Hold it right there. You are not listening to me. The next words out of your mouth will be the full price for the whole set, or you’ll be leaving my house.”

Salesman: “Well, it depends on several factors—”

My brother stood up with daggers shooting out of his eyes.

Brother: “Enough! Get out of my house right now!”

Salesman: “But Mr. [Brother], I haven’t finished explaining all your options and benefits.”

My brother led him to his front door.

Brother: “Oh, yes, you are done here. I told you the next words out of your mouth were to be the final, full price for the entire set, or you were leaving my house. You ignored my request, ignored every question I asked you about the final price, and were very evasive every time I asked about it. You are leaving my house, right now.”

At this point, my brother all but shoved the salesman out the front door and slammed the door behind him. He was so aggravated that he never bought the set nor even bothered to look into it ever again. 

The salesman lost an all but guaranteed sale, all because he wouldn’t listen. He was probably afraid that mentioning the full price would scare people away, but he lost a sale by not listening to a customer that was obviously prepared and willing to make a purchase on the spot.

I work in a hardware store with a pretty strict uniform policy. The store’s logo is plastered all over my clothes. There are four logos on my polo shirt, three on my jacket, three on my trousers, and two on my lanyard, and today, I even happen to be wearing branded socks that were a silly little company Christmas gift last year. Besides this, the uniform has a very recognizable colour scheme that surely no one would wear of their own free choice. Despite this, I get asked this question all the time, and today, I guess my brain-to-mouth filter failed.

Customer: “Excuse me. Do you work here?”

Me: “No, I’m just a huge fan.”

I walked away. The customer stood in confused silence while her husband dissolved into hysterical laughter.

For the record, I did, of course, go back to help them, and thankfully, they both had a good sense of humour about it.