In the mid-1980s, the restaurant where my friend worked added a drive-thru. My buddy was known as the store jokester. He’d sometimes answer the drive-thru intercom using a bad foreign accent, etc.

This time, he thought it would be funny to attach a note to a customer’s food.

Note: “HELP! I’M BEING HELD HOSTAGE.”

The customer didn’t get the joke and called the cops.

Amazingly, my buddy didn’t get fired.

I am standing in the checkout lane at a popular makeup store. There are several checkout counters open, including a “credit and debit card” only lane. I am called to the counter to checkout.

Employee: “Are you paying with a credit or debit card?”

I place my two items on the counter. I am purchasing an eyeliner for myself and a gift card for a friend.

Me: “Yes, I am paying with a debit card.”

Employee: “Okay. Do you want to sign up for a store credit card?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

The employee scans my eyeliner and then scans the gift card. The employee suddenly looks very angry.

Employee: “What are you trying to do?”

I am extremely taken aback and confused by the question. 

Me: “What?”

Employee: “What are you trying to do with this gift card?!”

I have no idea why the employee has changed from relatively pleasant to practically yelling at me.

Me: “I want to add $50 to the gift card.” 

I think this is a very clear request, but the employee looks at me with suspicion.

Employee: “You didn’t say that.”

At this point, I’ve only been at the counter for a minute. After the employee’s question about the store credit card, there hasn’t been time for me to say anything about the gift card. I’m also wondering why they didn’t just ask instead of yelling at me. But, at this point, I just want the transaction to be over.

Me: “Okay, sorry. I want to add $50.”

The employee continues to look at me as if I am trying to trick them. 

Employee: “I thought you were trying to pay with the gift card.”

Me: “No, this is the credit and debit card only lane. I am paying with a debit card.”

Employee: “Well, some people think that they can pay with a gift card in this lane.”

For the third time…

Me: “Okay, but I am not paying with a gift card. I am buying it.”

The employee grumbled but completed the transaction, still glaring at me. I left as quickly as possible. 

I’m not entirely sure what the employee’s problem was that day, but I think they thought I was trying to steal the makeup with a bad gift card.

The municipal waste centre in my town is cramped. There is only space for about four cars to offload waste. I park directly in the entrance because it is the only place I can stop. I start offloading my waste.

A worker comes up and says something incoherent about parking. I ignore him. There are several people unloading and chaotically parked.

Worker #1: “You’re blocking other cars!”

Again, he isn’t looking at anyone in particular. He’s just shouting across a busy depot, where no-one is parked properly.

Me: “Who?”

Worker #1: “You!”

By now, the three cars in front of me have vacated the car park. I move my car forward and park as best I can. I approach him.

Me: “May I help you?”

Worker #1: “You can’t stop in the entrance like that!”

Me: “Where would you have preferred I go? It was taking me one minute to offload, and I moved forward as soon as the car in front did.”

Worker #1: “You don’t park there, all right?”

He sighs heavily like he is dealing with a spoilt child. I have had it with his attitude.

Me: “Are you the boss here?”

Worker #1: “Yes.”

Me: “Have you a higher-up I could have a word with?”

Worker #1: “I am the boss!”

Me: “Doesn’t answer my question, mate.”

Worker: “[Town five miles away, where the main depot is located].”

Me: “Have you a name of someone I can speak to?”

He wordlessly marches into his tiny office, writes something down, and hands me a piece of paper. He then pushes past me out of the office. He’s given me a name and telephone number, which I call. There is no answer.

I decide it is worth driving five miles to [Town] to complain. Staff at [Site #1] work alone, so they need to be excellent at dealing with people, including those far more difficult than me. [Town] has a much bigger depot with lots of staff.

Me: “Hey, is there a manager I could speak to for two minutes?”

Worker #2: “Sure, what’s it about?”

Me: “One of your colleagues was less than diplomatic with me.”

Worker #2: *On radio* “Hey, boss, a fella here says one of us was rude. Are you available?” *To me* “He’ll be out now.”

A man in a suit appears.

Boss: “How can I help you?”

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name]. You might need to talk to the bloke on shift today at [Site #1]. Doesn’t respect personal space, he’s been impolite, can’t understand another’s perspective…”

Boss: “Why? What happened?”

I recall the story.

Me: “You can’t expect to shout across seven people like that and be understood. He’s also got to understand that people will get different ideas about where to park. That depot is very cramped and busy. I imagine staff here might get away with that attitude, sometimes. At least they have backup. To work by yourself, you need far better interpersonal skills than he showed to me.”

Boss: “I’m sorry for how he spoke to you, and thank you for coming all the way out here to raise that with us. Do you have the slip of paper he wrote on?”

Me: “Yes, here you go.”

Boss: *Reading* “[Worker #3]? You asked for his manager’s name and he wrote this down?”

Me: “Yes?”

Boss: “You’re kidding.”

Me: “No?”

Boss: “[Worker #3] isn’t his manager; I am his manager! That’s just another worker!”

When I was in my late teens, I was a programmer for a huge aerospace firm. The parking lot alone was the size of the lot for a mid-sized shopping mall. When I was leaving work one day, I realized that my car keys were missing. The keychain on it was unique: a long strip of some furry animal skin. I checked with security and nobody had turned in any keys. Security contacted a locksmith for me and he got me in my car and made a replacement key. It cost me quite a bit, but I wised up and duplicated the key, plus copies of my other keys, so I had spares… just in case.

“Just in case” was nearly a year later. I knew I could call my dad and have him bring me spares, but I figured I’d check with security first.

Me: “Hi. Did you have any keys turned in today?”

Guard: “Oh, yes. We just had these turned in today.”

He reached in the lost and found box, and I could tell at a glance as he pulled it out that it was mine. It was the furry-tailed set of keys I lost the year before. The set I lost that day never turned up. So weird.

I was driving along the motorway and my phone was connected via Bluetooth so I could be completely hands-free except for the button on the steering wheel to disconnect the call.

I get one of those invest-your-money-with-us-thieves calls as I’ve just joined the motorway. I do the usual who’s-calling-please, no-thank-you-not-interested stuff, after which my usual technique is to block the number on the phone. But as I’m driving, I can’t do that; I don’t know of a voice command to block a number.

A few seconds later, she calls again.

Me: “Nope, still not interested.” *Click*

Again.

Me: “Nope. F*** off.” Click*

Again.

Me: “F*** off.” Click*

Again.

Me: “F*** off and die, c***.” *Click*

And again and again and again.

Eventually, I am amused enough to let her say something before telling her to f*** off. 

Caller: “Do you want to do this all day?”

Me: “Yep. F*** off.”

She still doesn’t get the message.

Eventually, we have done about twenty or thirty rounds of this.

Me: “It’s your time you’re wasting here, not mine; I’m still driving.”

That was when she finally understood that she was not going to get anywhere with me.

At the next service station, I parked and blocked the number in case she decided to play the game again.