I recently started working in a new distribution company during a time of “transition.” By the time I was here a month, my six-person team was down to three, as everyone else had left, moved, or been hired and fired again. Only one person on the team had been here longer than a couple of months.

While this is normally a forest of red flags, the entire reason for the change was because the “order entry” team was so busy doing everything else they could hardly enter actual orders. Automation was put in to streamline things rather than customizing to match every customer’s unique PO styles. The incoming emails were redirected to the sales reps we usually had to go through anyway. The invoicing had batch processing implemented so we could finalize ten times faster. Everyone was happy.

And then, today, one of the people who left came back in, having gotten a job with one of our clients. She had the smuggest smile known to man and, while her boss and our CEO were schmoozing, came over to see how “miserable” we all were with these “horrible” new changes.

She wasn’t happy when we told her how much easier our jobs were now, even less happy when someone added how all the toxic people were gone, and way less happy when her boss caught her screaming at us for, I guess, proving her crazy expectations wrong with our mere existence?

(I’ve been dealing with morning sickness for weeks and my doctor’s office has sent me four reminders in two days this week to get blood work done, unrelated to the pregnancy. Today, I’m finally feeling well enough to go to the blood lab in the morning. It is a 30-minute drive to get there, and I’ve had to take a little time off work.)

Me: “Hello, I’m here for a blood draw.” *provides my name, date of birth, etc. as needed*

Blood Lab Front Desk: “Oh, we don’t have any record of this. Are you sure your doctor’s office sent it over?”

Me: “Yes, they’ve even sent me multiple reminders this week to come here.”

Blood Lab Front Desk: *confirms the name of my doctor* “No, there’s no record of this. Do you want me to call them?”

Me: “No, thank you. I’ll call them myself as I won’t have the time now to wait for them to send the order over and still do the draw.”

(So, I call the doctor’s office and explain the situation.)

Receptionist: “Well, we sent the order over. We faxed it.”

Me: “Okay, but they are saying they don’t have it, so they won’t do the draw. I’ve just driven for 30 minutes to do this and taken time off work. Now I don’t know when I’ll be able to do it again.”

Receptionist: “Um, well, we did fax it. Well, do you, like, um, want us to fax it again?”

Me: “Yes!”

(Inside I was thinking, “No! Please just continue to be as useless as you are right now.”)

I go into a fast food restaurant in town. I’m a teenager, and at this age, I’m not fond of all the salad and sauces that are put onto most burgers, so I am in the habit of ordering them plain — i.e. without the sauces and salad. I’ve never had a problem with this, until now.

I order a bacon cheeseburger, plain.

I leave the shop and open the bag to find I’ve been given a bun with cheese and bacon, but no burger!

I return to the shop and tell the cashier. She turns to the kitchen and simply shouts, “You idiots!”

I get a replacement burger just the way I wanted it.

(I am at home going through my homework when I get a call. My phone alerts me to potential scams and does so giving it the name “RoboCaller.” I go through the machine and get to a person.)

Employee: “Hello, you qualify for a reduced interest rate for your credit card.”

Me: “Can I just get put on the ‘do not call’ list?”

Employee: “But ma’am, you qualify for a reduced rate.”

Me: “Okay, then, which type of card do I have?”

Employee: “What?”

(I repeat myself.)

Employee: “Oh, ma’am, you want me to prove myself. Okay, you have a…” *lists all possible cards*

Me: “Which specific card do I have?”

Employee: “Okay, I will need you to verify some information before I can tell you. What’s your account number?”

Me: *laughing* “Dude, just put me on the ‘do not call’ list.”

Employee: *laughs* “You know, you have a beautiful voice.”

(Click.)

(I’m out shopping for shoes and find a nice pair on clearance. As I’m checking out, I notice the cashier checking the insides of the shoes.)

Me: “Is there something wrong?”

Cashier: “I’m just making sure that they are the same size.”

Me: “Is there a story behind that?”

(The cashier points to a three-story cart of shoe boxes.)

Cashier: *sounding extremely tired* “All of those are missing their matching shoe.”

(Poor guy!)