When I was younger, around six or seven, there used to be a store that sold various knickknacks — small furniture pieces, decorations, gardening things, and books.

I used to be a huge bookworm as a child, so I used to walk into that section and peruse the books available. I’d occasionally take one book, open it up to read, and skim a few pages to see if I had any interest in buying the book — you know, the normal way to decide if you want to buy a book and not waste your money.

Usually, this wasn’t a problem. But for some reason, on this occasion, this “wonderful” woman decided that I was being a huge nuisance. I’d walked over to the book section as usual and picked up a book to read when this “wonderful” employee came barreling into the book section shouting at me.

Most of her tirade is lost to time, but one line I specifically remember from her long tantrum is:

Employee: “Don’t touch these books! You are going to get them dirty! These books are not for reading!”

What are they for, then, lady? Decoration?

I remember that my mother was livid and swiftly removed us from the store. We didn’t return to that store after that, and my mother has confirmed that this was on purpose.

That store has now been closed for almost twelve years. I guess that employee scared off everyone who had an interest in that store.

Client: “We have six designers working for us at the moment and an intern. That makes it six and a half people.”

Me: “Your intern would love to hear that.”

We once had a scammy waiter that tried to put another table’s stuff on our bill. We were a party of ten, and I always double-check and make sure there aren’t extra things on the bill when we have large parties because no one is going to want to pay the extra. I’ve gotten stuck before so I always double-check.

I wrote next to each item the person who ordered whatever and saw drinks, food, and desserts that were not ours on there that brought our bill up about $70. I called the waiter over and said the bill was wrong and pointed out the items that weren’t ours. He came back with an amended bill that only removed a few of the cheaper things.

When I pointed it out again, the manager, who happened to have been bussing a table nearby, came over and asked what was going on. I explained and he glared at the waiter but adjusted the bill correctly and also said dessert was on him.

The scammy waiter tried to put the dessert on our bill and not comp it. The manager had to fix that, too. 

The food and stuff that was on our bill? That belonged to the table the manager had been bussing. Apparently, they were friends of the scammy waiter and he figured we wouldn’t notice the extra charges since we were such a large group. Of course, his friends had already booked out, so I’m guessing the scammy waiter had to pay the bill. I didn’t see him the next time I was there, so he probably got sacked, too. It just makes me wonder how many times he pulled that stunt before I caught him and called him out.

My anniversary with my husband fell on a weekday this year, and we decided to celebrate it over the weekend rather than try to plan something on a work night. However, on the day of our anniversary, he wanted to surprise me with flowers, so he called the florist the morning of to place an order to be picked up on his way home from work. This is the conversation that occurred as he relayed to me.

Florist: “Hello, how can I help you?”

Husband: “Hello, I’d like to order a bouquet to be picked up today.”

Florist: “Sure. What kind of bouquet do you need?”

Husband: “One with roses and stargazer lilies, please.”

Florist: “No, I mean what level of bouquet? What kind of bouquet do you need?”

My husband is confused, unsure what she means.

Husband: “Um, a nice one? It’s for my wife.”

Florist: “Yes, but what is the bouquet for?”

Husband: “It’s for our anniversary?”

Florist: “Did you forget it?”

Suddenly, it clicks in his mind that the florist thinks he’s in trouble and the flowers are meant to be an apology, and he starts laughing.

Husband: “Oh, no, it’s today; I’m surprising her with flowers.”

Florist: “Oh! Okay, great! Usually, when someone places a rush order, it’s because they’re in trouble. So, you said roses and stargazer lilies?”

The bouquet was gorgeous, and I was very surprised when my husband came home with flowers, but I almost laughed myself to tears at the story that came along with it.

I swing by the corner store for some eggs. The first, second, and third cartons are out of date. I manage to find one box that expires tomorrow. Luckily, I will use them up by then.

I pass a worker on his phone as I go to the till. He’s got an open box to stack the shelf but seems to be daydreaming.

Me: “Err, all of the other eggs are out of date.”

Staff: “Oh, you want me to throw these away?”

Me: “No, these are in date. The others are out of date.”

Staff: “Oh, okay.”

Me: “You might want to get rid of them before someone buys them.”

Staff: “Oh, yeah, good idea.”

He starts giggling. He doesn’t seem sarcastic, just out of it. I don’t know what else to do, so I go to the till.

Me: “Oh, and all the rest of the eggs are out of date.”

Cashier: “Really? Okay, thanks for letting us know.”

Me: “I did tell your colleague, but he seemed… busy.”

He rings me up and radios his colleague.

Me: “Unless that walkie-talkie reaches other planets, I don’t think you’re going to have much luck.”

He shook his head and tried anyway, getting more annoyed as he repeated himself. I passed the aisle again where the worker from earlier was still yet to negotiate a single item back onto the shelf, blissfully unaware of what that angry noise was.

I’m not sure what attracts them there, but every other new starter seems to last a few weeks and is never quite on the same planet as anyone else.