I am working at a company that decides to shut down our office on the west coast of the USA and move anybody who wants to go to the Boston area. My wife and I are interested, so they make arrangements to fly us out to look for housing. They also get us in touch with a relocation agent that is supposed to help us find housing. The agent sends us a form, which we fill out, that indicates that we are looking for a HOUSE — not an apartment, condo, etc. Also, we note that we need at least three rooms.

This happens when we arrive in the Boston area and the agent picks us up to go look at housing.

Agent: “I’ve looked through all the information you sent me, and I have some great places lined up to go see. Let’s go find you a place to live!”

Wife & Me: “Great, we’re really excited!”

We arrive at the first place, and it’s a college dorm that has been converted to apartments. It’s probably the furthest thing away from a house that you could describe.

Me: “This is an apartment.”

Agent: “Yes.”

Me: “We filled out that we wanted to look at houses, not apartments.”

Agent: “I know, but I know this place is really great, and I thought I would show it to you just in case.”

She walks us around the place and shows us a couple of the super-small dorm-room-type apartments. Most are single rooms; some have two rooms. After looking around a short time:

Me: “I think we are done looking here; it’s not what we are looking for. Let’s go to the next place.”

Agent: “Okay. Are you sure? This place is very trendy!”

Wife: “We’re sure; plus, none of those are three bedrooms. We need three bedrooms.”

Agent: “Okay, let’s go to the next place.”

She brought us to four other apartment complexes, every time trying to sell us on the idea that we really wanted an apartment and not a house. Most were only one or two bedrooms; only one had three-bedroom units available.  

After a wasted day, the agent dropped us back at our hotel and handed us applications from the places we’d been to. I grabbed them, not looking at them then, and said thanks, and we left to go inside. My wife and I were very frustrated at that point. I started looking at the applications in my hand and I noticed something. All the complexes were run by the same management company. Clearly, she was trying to get us to rent from this company, probably because she got a kickback of some type.

In the end, we ended up not moving to Boston, though I did express to my manager what a frustrating experience it was with the relocation agent they had sent us to, and I told him what happened.

He later got back to me and said they had talked to several other people who were trying to move out also, and all of them said the same thing. She showed everyone the same five places, no matter what they said on their forms. He tried to get me and my wife to go out again and give it another go with a completely different agent, but by that time, we had decided not to relocate.

My husband and I are making a long drive to visit family and decide to stay overnight at a halfway point. We find a bed and breakfast online and make reservations. The place was clearly nice once but is in a general state of mild and dusty disrepair, and we have a couple of issues. My husband decides to bring this up at checkout.

Clerk: “And how was your stay?”

Husband: “We slept well, but breakfast wasn’t what we expected.”

Clerk: “The full continental breakfast in the lounge?”

Me: “There was a bowl of apples, a plastic bag of cornflakes, a Keurig coffeemaker, and a stack of room-temperature cartons of milk.”

Clerk: “Fruit and cereal and milk and coffee! A full and balanced breakfast!”

Husband: “Also, we have no hot water in our room.”

Clerk: “The sign mentioned that the water takes time to warm up.”

Me: “There was no sign anywhere in our room. We ran the shower for twenty minutes and it never got hot, or even warm.”

Clerk: “Well, this is an old building. You should really just learn to be patient.”

Me: “I would rather be able to take a hot shower than learn patience, ma’am.”

Clerk: “This is an old building! It’s too expensive to fix the water heater!”

Husband: “You have our permission to apply the cost of our stay to fixing the water heater.”

Clerk: “Other guests have found it charming!”

My husband left a polite but pointed online review, and we have not been back. Judging from some other online reviews, the water heater has yet to be fixed.

My boyfriend and I decide to have sex one night, so we grab a condom, but it breaks halfway through, and we don’t realize until we finish.

I decide to go to the pharmacy to get a morning-after pill. I don’t look particularly young. When I arrive at the pharmacy, the pharmacist comes right up to the counter. 

Me: “Hi. Can I get the morning-after pill?”

Pharmacist: “Did you speak with your doctor?”

Me: “Um, no.”

Pharmacist: “You need to speak with your doctor, first, sweetheart. And I need your parents’ consent.”

Me: “Um, first of all, no, you don’t. Even if I was underage, you don’t need their consent. And I should get the pill if I ask for it right here; I shouldn’t have to speak to my doctor.”

Pharmacist: “Underage? How old are you?”

Me: “Twenty-four.” 

The pharmacist looks surprised before consulting with another pharmacist. They both come over, the first pharmacist watching from behind the second pharmacist. The second pharmacist hands me the package with the pill. 

Second Pharmacist: “Sorry about that. She’s never acted like that before. I’ll have a talk with her.”

I rent a room and my landlady has a humorous “no soliciting” sign that is basically a flow chart for who should ring the bell: friends, family, emergency services, and children selling for fundraisers. It does not include the words “no soliciting” in big bold letters, but it does count as a “no soliciting” sign.

They are laying new cables in our neighborhood and the local telecoms are out in force trying to sign people up for new services.

One day, my landlady answers the door.

Employee #1: “Hello, I was reading your sign. It is very funny.”

Landlady: “Yes, we think so. How can I help you?”

Employee #1: “I represent [Telecom Company] and would like to talk to you about—”

Landlady: “You do realize that is a ‘no soliciting’ sign?”

Employee #1: “Well, yes, but since we are already talking—”

My landlady closes the door in his face.

This exact conversation happens five other times with employees from the company and others, to the point that my landlady no longer opens the door and calls their companies to complain multiple times. Basically, she is told in no uncertain terms that until she signs up with one of the companies, they will keep coming by.

The next day, the doorbell rings and since I am expecting a package, I go to answer it. There is a man in a polo with the logo of [Telecom Company that hasn’t visited yet]

Employee #2: “Hello, I’m sorry. I rang the bell before I read the sign. I didn’t want to doorbell ditch you; I’ll just be leaving now. Have a good day.”

Me: “Wait, hold on. Can I get your card?”

Employee #2: “No, ma’am, you have a ‘no soliciting’ sign, and I would get in so much trouble if you called and complained. Take care.”

I’m sure you all know which company my landlady decided to sign up with.

This story is part of our Best Of August 2020 roundup!

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This happens when I am an extremely awkward and anxious youth in my late teens, already living alone. I don’t have a lot of money but I take cash out and go to get a few things at the supermarket; it comes to about £3. I hand over the only cash I have: a £20 note. The cashier hands me back £2 and my receipt and goes to start on the next customer, while I stand there, staring at my change, starting to panic.

Cashier: “Is there a problem?”

Me: “Um… I— I gave you a twenty.”

Cashier: “No, you didn’t.”

Yeah, she thinks I’m trying to scam her. And my demeanor does NOT help my case.

Me: “Yes, um, I did. You put it in the till.”

Twenties go into a box under the till, since they can’t be used for change; next to nowhere in the UK accepts £50 notes.

Cashier: “No, I’m sure you only gave me a fiver.”

Me: “I didn’t. It was a twenty. It’s in the till.”

The cashier is now looking at me very suspiciously.

Cashier: “Why would anyone pay for £3 with a twenty?”

I’m starting to really freak out, sweating, and looking even more suspicious.

Me: “It’s all I had! I need the change! It’s all I have until I get paid!”

Cashier: “Uh-huh. Well, I can’t open my till, but I can call over my manager and he can do so.”

I suspect she is either trying to give me an opportunity to leave or to just put me off.

Me: “Yes. Okay. Call your manager.”

She did so. We stood there waiting in the most awful, awkward silence. He finally came over and she explained that I was “claiming” to have paid with a twenty. He shrugged, opened the till, and lo and behold: there was a crisp £20 note sat on top of all the fives. Her shock and surprise that I wasn’t scamming her were palpable. She finally gave me my change and I outright fled from the store.

That was about fifteen years ago. I’m doing a lot better, but I still remember it. And I really can’t blame her, but that time the customer actually WAS right!