I start wearing a Santa hat through the winter holidays, starting from Black Friday until the end of December. Every single shift, I wear that silly hat along with my nice dress and shoes. I get some friendly teasing about it from my coworkers, but my managers don’t care and even encourage it.

I’m in the staff room with some coworkers on Black Friday, sharing stories about the impossible customers they’ve had to deal with that day.

Coworker #1: “Ugh, I can’t believe I have six more hours to go.”

Coworker #2: “If that one lady is still down there when my break is over, I’m going to hide.”

Coworker #1: *Turning to me* “How’s your day been?”

Me: “Fine. I haven’t had any trouble yet.”

Coworker #1: “Seriously, no one’s yelled at you today?”

Me: “Nope.”

Coworker #1: “Ugh, lucky. You have fewer people to deal with in Jewelry.”

Me: “Nah, we’re slammed, and plenty of them are jerks.”

Coworker #2: “But you’re always so energetic and smiling, I think they’re less likely to get mad at you.”

Me: “Oh, I get screamed at plenty during the rest of the year, but people hold back during the holidays.”

I flick the pom-pom end of my Santa hat.

Me: “No matter how much of a jerk someone is, very few people want others to see them being the kind of jerk who screams at a girl in a Santa hat during Christmas.”

My coworkers both stare at me in silence, before [Coworker #1] slams up out of her chair.

Coworker #1: “I’m going to the [Holiday Store] next door! Be right back!”

Coworker #2: “I’m coming, too!”

And that was how half the staff started wearing Santa hats in the following weeks.

This story is part of our Black Friday 2023 roundup!

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This is before the quarantine. I am at a bookstore, looking for a birthday present for my teenage son. A bookseller walks up to me, and at that moment, so does a boy of about five.

Bookseller: “Hi, can I help you?”

Me: “Yes, I need a book recommendation for my son. He likes horror and gothic literature.”

The bookseller glances down at the boy. 

Bookseller: “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer picture books?” 

Me: “No, I’m sure. He’d probably kill me if I tried to give him a picture book in front of his friends.”

Bookseller: “Sir, I really think you should consider something younger for your son.”

She gestures to the child.

Me: “That boy is not my son. My son is seventeen, almost eighteen.”

Bookseller: *Turns bright red and chuckles nervously* “Well, that changes things. What authors does he like?”

The little boy’s mother came along at that point and started scolding him for walking away, and the bookseller helped me find a good horror novel.

The city puts a notice sign up on my street announcing that they’ll be doing road work tomorrow, and the street will be closed to all but local traffic from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm. I make sure to leave my house by 7:30 am.

Fast forward to 6:00 pm. I’m driving home from work when I see city trucks blocking half the entrance to my street, and approximately ten workers standing around talking. I can see the notice sign peeking out from behind the truck. There aren’t any barriers blocking the street, so I hit my turn signal. One of the workers runs toward my car and motions for me to stop. I stop and roll down my window.

Me: “Yes?”

Worker: “You can’t go down there.”

Me: “I live here. I can show you my ID.”

He shakes his head.

Worker: “You can’t go.”

Me: “Your sign says, ‘Local traffic only.’ I am local traffic. I live about 500 feet away. Literally, right there.”

I point to my house.

Worker: “We’re not done.”

Me: “All I see is a completely unchanged road and ten guys standing around doing nothing.”

Worker: “We’ll be done in about two hours. Come back then.”

Me: “Two hours?! Listen, I left my house at 7:30 this morning because your stupid sign said, ‘Local traffic only from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm.’ I am local traffic, and my clock says it’s 6:00. Go check your sign. It’s right behind your truck. Conveniently moved out of sight, of course.”

The worker opens his mouth and then closes it.

Me: “Go check. I’ll wait. I’ve got a full tank of gas.” 

I put the car in park and fold my arms. He goes to check the sign, sighs, and comes back. Without a word, he moves aside and waves me through.

Me: “That’s what I thought.”

For those who are curious, there wasn’t another way into the neighborhood — one way in, one way out. The next day, there was a sign up with altered hours of 10:00 am to 7:00 pm, but then they showed up at 8:00 am. Thankfully, I had the day off!

Our cable connection goes out suddenly in the middle of the day, which means we have no Internet or telephone service. I dig out my cell phone and call the cable company, who keeps me on hold for over twenty minutes, constantly telling me I could easily report a problem online.

I’m not sure which is the more annoying: just being on hold or being told to use a connection I don’t have.

A fellow finally picks up the call and I explain the problem.

Representative: “May I have your account number?”

Me: “Can’t you find it by our telephone number?”

Representative: “No, ma’am. We have to have the account number. I can wait if you need to go find it.”

I looked in the file cabinet and rummaged through the pile of papers on the desk, to no avail. I finally told him I’d have my husband call when he got in. After waiting for so long, it was beyond annoying to have to start over, but there was no choice.

When my husband came home, he called the cable company and the woman who picked up found the account — by using the phone number!

Maybe it was his deep voice.

I work in a casino. One of my friends who I haven’t seen in years ended up being part of the crew. It was kind of nice to catch up. We never really got along as we grew up because he has a very high picture of himself. He wanted that 10/10 woman, a mansion, and a new Corvette.

Every month or so, we would all go up to another casino to play. I would bring no more than $500, but I couldn’t understand how this guy was spending thousands of dollars at the tables. This went on for a few months.

Well, one day, as we were closing the casino, he and I were in the High Limit room getting ready to close the tables. We were told to take the chips out, count them, put them back, sign this piece of paper, and that was it. As the supervisor was locking the tray, the piece of paper fell to the floor, so she asked [Friend] to grab it.

As he bent over, a great big $500 chip fell right out of his sock. [Friend] was fired immediately, but suddenly, his spending all made sense.

They offered [Friend] a deal that if he replaced all the stolen chips, they would not make it public. Not sure how that turned out.