I’m out shopping for running shoes with my mom at the local mall because I have had the same shoes for about a year and they are starting to get small.

We look around at shoes and find a pair that looks the best on me, and we ask for my size. The employee comes back with only one shoe and the box, and we try on the one shoe.

Mom: “Can we try the other shoe, please?”

Employee: “Sorry, store protocol is that you can only try on one shoe.”

My mom looks at me with the most confused face I’ve seen, and we go and pay for the shoes.

Once we pay for the shoes, we turn around the corner to the couch and try on the other shoe. The other shoe is somewhat loose, so we take the shoes back to return them. It’s been about three minutes since we left the store.

The employee glared at us while returning the shoes. We then asked for the same shoes but in half a size down. He realized exactly what we had done, so he gave us the entire box instead of the one shoe. Those fit, so we paid and left.

My spouse and I get a call from our credit card company.

Representative #1: “We’ve had a security breach and, while your card wasn’t affected, we are going to cancel it and send you a new one, just to be safe.”

Me: “That’s fine, but we’re leaving tomorrow on a trip. Can it wait until we get back?”

The rep says yes, confirms our return date, and makes note of where we’re going so using our card won’t get flagged.

We drive north from California as planned and, at about the time we cross the border so we can spend two weeks with our friends in Canada, the credit card stops working. While we have enough money in our accounts, only a small bit of it is easily accessible from where we are. We’re fine for now — and our friends are fronting us funds best they can — but we can’t get home without a working credit card. So, we call the company.

Representative #2: “We needed to cancel your card, but the new one should be at your home by now.”

Me: “We’re not at home. We’re in Canada. The other rep said we could wait until we got back. Can you reactivate the card?”

Representative #2: “Sorry, I can’t do that, but I can send you a new card.”

We give the rep the address: [number, Street, and Town], British Columbia, Canada. A couple of days later…

Me: “We were supposed to get our new credit card at our friends’ house where we’re staying.”

Representative #3: “We can’t find the address. Are you in Columbia?”

Me: “What? No. We’re in Canada. In the province British Columbia.”

The rep promises to send it right out to the correct address. A couple of days later…

Me: “Where is our credit card?”

Representative #4: “We mailed it to your address in the British Virgin Islands.”

Me: “!!!”

Finally, they suggest getting a new card in person. As they’re an American company, there is only one bank in the area they’re affiliated with that can do it, a half-hour drive away. We make the trip and get the card, and it works.

When we got home, we looked through our pile of mail and found the first cards mailed to us at home, now cancelled. And we found a very interesting envelope, with another set of now-cancelled cards, forwarded to us from the British Virgin Islands.

In Canada, we’ve discontinued the use of pennies in our monetary system. I am in Grand Forks, North Dakota with my family, and we stop at a store to buy snacks for the road trip back home. My total is $4.99, and I pay with a $5 bill. The woman at cash tries to give me a penny, and I decline.

Me: “I’m from Canada, and we don’t use pennies. Just keep it. Sorry!”

Apparently, this is the wrong thing to say.

Cashier: *Getting mad* “You Canadians think that you’re better than Americans for not using pennies! It’s very rude to not accept the penny!”

I just went, “Uh-huh,” and ran.

Related:
Unfortunately, The Penny Dropped

It’s a big football weekend (pre-pandemic) and my friend is celebrating a milestone birthday. I’m the only person who’s still sober at this point in the party, so when pizza is suggested, I volunteer to collect it to save a few dollars on delivery in order to get enough food for everyone. I place the order, walk around and collect the payment of approximately $10 per person, and grab one slightly-less-drunk friend to help me carry the food. Then, we head off for the fifteen-minute drive to the shop.

We arrive as the pizzas are being boxed up, so I head up to the counter.

This is where everything goes wrong.

The young man behind the counter tries to hand me the huge stack of pizzas, garlic bread, and chicken wings, as the person behind me gets bumped by the crowd. He bumps me and I step aside, dropping two of the garlic breads on the floor. My friend grabs them and we get jostled into the corner. I think we’re missing a pizza, but the worker has the receipt, so I attempt to call over everyone’s heads and catch the eye of the people working, but no dice. The young man who handed me the pizzas is avoiding eye contact with me and nobody else can hear me over the noise.

Friend: “Let’s just take the pizzas to the car before we get squashed.”

We squeeze along the wall and get outside. At this point, we’ve figured out that we’re only short one garlic bread, so we decide to cut our losses and head home.

I pull out onto the main road and realise there’s a crunching sensation in my pocket; I never handed them the payment! We drive home, drop off the pizzas, and I attempt to call them. I’m out on hold for over ten minutes, the line cuts out, and I call back. Same problem again.

So, I drive down to the store. This is now forty-five minutes out of my friend’s party that I’ve spent driving around for pizzas. I try to get back to the counter. It’s wall-to-wall people and there are about two dozen standing outside. I attempt to get inside, am met with dirty looks, and am finally shoved back out the door.

Customer: “Wait your turn!”

In the end, I went back and sent an email to the head office saying what happened. Then I returned the cash to everyone at the party and started drinking.

I never heard back from the pizza company, so either they don’t read their emails or they didn’t care.

This happens during a year when the flu shot isn’t particularly effective. I get the shot, but I still come down with the flu a couple of months later. My doctor has called in Tamiflu, and I drag myself over to the pharmacy to pick it up, along with a giant Gatorade and some painkillers. The pharmacist is ringing me out.

Pharmacist: “Tamiflu, huh?”

Me: “Yep.”

Pharmacist: *Smirks* “That’s why you get your flu shot, dear. You’ll get it next year, won’t you?”

Me: “Actually, I got the flu shot two months ago in this pharmacy. I’m pretty sure you gave it to me. Now, can I have my medicine without the commentary?”

The pharmacist’s face turned red and he completed my transaction silently.