(I have to buy a new TV — a 55″ — from a popular electronics store. It is going on top of an electric fireplace with a pretty mantle that I have just gotten and put together. I make sure to have it ready before the TV is delivered so that the delivery guys can put it on. When they arrive, they come in with the big box and proceed to leave it on the floor before starting back towards the door.)

Me: “Wait, aren’t you guys going to unpack it and put it up for me?”

Delivery Guys: “Sorry, but we don’t do that unless it’s requested when you order it.”

(I had not selected the option to have it set it up for an extra fee, assuming that by “set up,” that means plugging it in, programming it, etc. All I need, and expected, is to have the TV unboxed and put where I want it. It has been seven years since I bought my last TV from this same store, and that time, it was a given that they would do that.)

Me: “I wasn’t expecting you to actually hook everything up and set up the WiFi or anything, but I thought you would at least put it where I wanted it. I’m 4’11” and live alone, and there’s no way I can get that TV up there by myself!”

(The delivery guys apologize again and say that they’re only to bring it in, and I begrudgingly thank them as they leave. I turn to the box and wonder how exactly I’m going to get that up on my mantle. Then, the doorbell rings, and I open it to find that the delivery guys are back.)

Delivery Guys: “We’ll put it up for you.”

(I let them back in, and they unboxed the TV, drilled the feet on — something else I’d have needed to do — and put it up on the mantle. I gratefully gave them $20, which they tried to refuse, and a couple of canned sodas for the road. They were very nice to come back and do that, because they certainly didn’t have to. Thanks, electronics store delivery guys!)

(Many years ago, before cell phones and even before personal computers are common, I receive a court summons. I’m not familiar with the location of the courthouse, in a town over an hour away from where I am residing, and I can’t find a map that lists it — neither the mailed summons or phone book I find in the local library have a street address, just something like “Courthouse Square” — I call a week or so before the hearing date to get directions. My bad; the very short conversation goes something like this:)

Receptionist: “Thank you for calling [County] court; how may I direct your call?

Me: “I’ve received a summons to appear at a hearing on [date] and I’m unfamiliar with where the courthouse is located. I’ll be entering town on the main highway from the west; could you provide directions or connect me with someone who can?”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to provide legal advice.”

Me: “I just need directions from the highway to the courthouse. I’m not asking for legal advice at all!”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, no one is here who can provide you with that information. As I stated, I’m not allowed to answer legal questions. You’ll need to contact your attorney. Have a great day!” *disconnects the call*

(I didn’t have an attorney as I’d been called to be a witness and was not a party to the suit, but I did eventually find the courthouse, just a block off the highway, no thanks to her. Although, upon arrival, I discovered that the civil matter I’d been summoned for had been resolved out of court days prior, my presence wasn’t required after all, and no one had bothered to let me, or at least two other witnesses, know.)

About ten years ago, I worked in a nursing home. The building was old and while we waited for the new build to start, there wasn’t much money spent on repairs. Needless to say, the old building had some “problems.”

Problem 1: I was working with an intern who had just started. She was unaware of some of the issues we had to deal within the building. She and I walked into a small room where a resident was sleeping. She had thrown up and the room was really smelly. While I grabbed towels and water, the intern tried to open the window. 

When I realised this I yelled, “NO, DON’T! It’ll…”

Then, there was an almighty crash and the sound of glass breaking into thousands of pieces. The intern was standing near the space where the window was, still holding on to the latch.

“…fall out,” I finished.

The window wasn’t to be opened anymore, as staff knew the hinges were so rusted the window would drop out. It had to be replaced, as it was a tad cold in a bedroom without a window. But the smell was gone!

Problem 2: I was working the nightshift and doing my rounds. I was just walking along the third floor hallway when I suddenly heard the elevator arriving. The doors opened and I had a serious jumpscare, as the elevator should stay on the ground floor with the doors open all night. Nobody was supposed to use the elevator at night.

The doors opened and I could see nobody in the elevator at all. The doors closed and I heard it travelling up to the top floor where it opened again and closed. It then went down again and opened and closed again. This apparently happened every night around 3:00 am. The elevator would travel up and stop at every floor, and when it reached the top floor it would travel down, again stopping at every floor. Nobody knew why, not even the technicians who had been called a couple of times, but they couldn’t locate the problem. We called it the elevator ghost.

Problem 3: One wing had sunscreens which were all attached to each other. That is, there was only one button which controlled all sunscreens on that wing. If you wanted to pull them out — or in — you needed to look outside first to see if anyone had their door open. If so, it needed to be closed first. One of my coworkers forgot to check and took out two doors. Both got torn from the hinges and had to be fixed. The boss wasn’t best pleased.

Problem 4: We were having a fire drill and one of our residents had to be “evacuated” from his room. As the “fire” was further down the hall, we got him to the top of the hall, only to realise the evacuation chair was missing. Someone thought it wasn’t needed and had had it removed. As it was a drill, we joked with the resident — a relatively young guy — about throwing him off the stairs. The fire department just carried him down, but a new chair was needed in order to pass the drill.

There are quite a few more stories; some deserve their own story completely.

Related:
Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head

About ten years ago I worked in a nursing home located in a very old building, in desperate need of a new building. The build finally started and problems to the old building were patched up, not fixed.

I was working a night shift with a coworker when, around 2:00 am, a long-awaited thunderstorm arrived. We made a bet where we would have to mop up water, as the roof was leaking. Up until that night, it wasn’t too bad, just a bit of a nuisance. That night, it changed.

We made our way to the top floor where we didn’t find any water. So, we went down to the main hall, which was a more recent addition to the building. We found a giant puddle near the bar area and started mopping it up. The rain intensified and it was pouring down quite badly. From the window, we couldn’t see a thing other than rain.

At around 2:20 am, I got a call from a resident up on the top floor. At first, I heard nothing but water gushing. Then I heard this:

“Please… I’m drowning!”

I could hear the anxiety in her voice, so my coworker and I rushed up to the top floor and into her apartment. We found the resident in bed, scooted as far as she could to the left. Keep in mind that this resident couldn’t move without help, so this must have been a massive feat for her.

Water was literally pouring down into her bed. Everything was soaked, including our resident. My coworker and I moved the bed away from the water as quickly as we could. Half the ceiling had collapsed onto the bed, miraculously missing her head. The other half was hanging by a thread. My coworker ran to turn off the electricity as water was gushing out of the sockets and from the lamps. In the living room, the ceiling hadn’t yet collapsed, but the weight of the water was very visible. We managed to get our resident out of her room before the whole ceiling collapsed. My coworker made a bed for her in another room, which would be occupied the next morning, and I moved the resident to a shower room to get a nice hot shower.

The resident said to me, “Well… I bet you didn’t expect that when I called.”

“No, not really,” I replied. “I thought you were joking about drowning.”

“I wasn’t.”

“No, I know now. But I’m glad you didn’t drown in your bed.”

Then, the resident laughed and said, “That would’ve made a nice headline. Woman drowns in bed.”

“I wouldn’t have had a clue how to tell that to your children,” I told her, also laughing.

We got her into bed and checked all five other rooms on the top floor. No water was found in any of the other rooms, although we didn’t turn on the electricity on the top floor that night. We did call the fire department to check the roof and we called our boss, who wasn’t pleased we called her at 3:00 or 4:00 am, though she was glad the resident was okay. The fire department found a large hole in the roof, just above the resident’s room. It took two weeks before the resident could return to her room.

I have a bald head and a long beard; this will become important later in the story. A chain of restaurants currently has a very popular sandwich in stock, and it’s become all the rage; even news stories have been written about it. Unfortunately, it’s being sold at a fast food restaurant that doesn’t have a great reputation for being fast or friendly to their customers. 

My wife wants to try the sandwich, so I get there right about rush hour, 5:00 pm, when most people are getting off work and on their way home. The line for the drive-thru is backed up out of the parking lot and into the street, so I park my car and go inside to place my order, where there’s another sizable line. 

One register is taking cash while the other is taking only credit/debit card transactions. I get in the line for cash transactions, place my order, and am even offered a free soft drink while I wait, because the employee tells me it is going to be a bit of a wait. I thank him and sit at a table to wait for my food. Having worked fast food before, I understand what can happen when you get slammed with customers, so I take it all in stride. 

Not only is the restaurant understaffed, but they seriously underestimated how much food they would need for the evening rush. Eventually, the orders start being filled, and after about 20 minutes or so, my ticket number is called. I go up to collect my food, and as I turn to leave, I hear one of the women still in line mutter under her breath, “That boy has been here so long he grew a beard.”