I share a house with some other girls. Normally, we “interview ” a potential new housemate together. But with the end room being vacant for so long, we have a current housemate’s friend move in immediately. 

She seems okay, but she’s so dramatic. If she doesn’t have man problems, she has car issues. If not that, she has family problems. Failing that, some customer at work is either hitting on her or saying something crazy. It’s hard to feel sorry for her when all she does is complain.

I have a day off. I catch up on some reading in my room, do a bit of tidying round the house, finally go for a run, and come back as everyone else is arriving from work.

The new housemate has cornered a few people before they can even get their coats off.

New Girl: “Ugh, I had the worst day ever.”

Housemate: “Okay, well, great, but let me get inside, yeah, hun?”

New Girl: “Ugh, it’s like you don’t care.”

Housemate: “We do care. I just want to get inside. It’s raining.”

New Girl: “As I was saying, it was the worst day. This creep wouldn’t leave me alone; he was all in my face. Then, my boss told me off because of my top. Then—”

Me: “Hang on, [New Girl]. You haven’t been to work. You’ve sat on that sofa all day. Did you not see me around the house?”

New Girl: “Well, I mean… I had the worst day yesterday.”

Housemate: “Yesterday was Sunday, babe.”

New Girl: “Ugh! You guys are so mean.”

I felt bad, but still, keep the BS to a believable level.

It’s a wet, windy Saturday night in December and we decide to order two pizzas from our regular place half a mile away. We are told it will be with us within forty-five minutes. An hour and a quarter later, I call to inquire where the pizzas are.

Employee: “It’ll be at least another forty-five minutes. We’re really busy and we only have one driver on a moped. We’re getting concerned about going out anymore because it is getting windier and windier.”

I wonder why they didn’t plan for this and employ more than one person — maybe someone with a car — on one of the busiest nights of the week. Oh, well. We’ll sit and wait.

One hour later, the pizzas still haven’t arrived, so I call the store again. This time, the manager answers. I can hear phones ringing constantly in the background; obviously, everyone else is calling to see where their pizzas are!

Manager: *Frazzled* “If you want your pizzas now, you can come and collect them. They’re already out of the oven and just waiting on the side.”

I reluctantly agree and walk the half-mile in the wind and rain storm to collect my partially cold pizzas. The manager tells me that he will put a note on my account so I will get a free pizza next time. I reheat the cold pizzas in my oven at home, and finally, about three hours after ordering, we get to eat the pizzas!

On the receipt is a “How did we do?” survey offering loyalty points and a competition entry. I fill it in, saying how service was disappointing this time, which is a shame as it is usually great, and send it off. Nothing horrible, just honest.

Two weeks later, we decide to redeem the offer of free pizza and order from the store again. The employee I speak to sounds confused at a note he is reading on the system and puts me onto the manager.

Manager: “How could you have the nerve to call up again and demand free pizza?!”

Me: “You offered us the free pizza after our long wait last time.”

Manager: “Well, since you gave us a bad review, I’ve changed my mind!” *Laughs* “You don’t get anything. Those surveys aren’t anonymous. They get sent to the area manager, and the area manager berated me about that night’s bad results!”

Me: “So, because I filled in the survey and you didn’t like it, you feel that you need to punish me? Even though I’ve been a regular customer and spent over £400 in your store in the last four years I’ve lived here? You’re willing to lose a customer over this?”

Manager: “Yes, and I don’t care. You’re not going to get free pizza from me.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll just go to [Competitor Pizza] from now on. Goodbye.” 

Upon putting the phone down, I went online and gave them a scathingly bad — but honest! — public review. And, true to my word, I have never ordered pizza from them again.

I am Australian, and I’m at a company-wide meeting with colleagues from all over. I find myself explaining to an American the difference between Kiwi and Aussie accents; they are similar but there has been a vowel shift in New Zealand.

A few minutes later, we join another group who are asking a new colleague what he thinks of the city so far.

Colleague: “Before I got to London, I’d never seen a bigger.”

Everyone But Me: “What’s a bigger?”

[Colleague] holds his cupped hands toward us.

Colleague: “A person who asks for money.”

Everyone But Me: “Oh, a beggar!“

My American colleague leans towards me and speaks with the pride of a student finding a practical application of a recent lesson.

American Colleague: “He’s from New Zealand, isn’t he?”

My job sometimes means hand-delivering scientific equipment across the country. I often use the train as it’s safer for the equipment, but occasionally this leaves me waiting around for hours for the next train back.

I find out the next train home is cancelled, meaning an even longer wait than normal, when I realise that there is an art museum nearby and it’s free admission! I figure, while it’s not my normal choice of activities, I can still enjoy my time.

As I’m checking out the pieces, my view keeps getting interrupted by a woman standing right in front of them. I move, she moves; I wait, she waits. 

It doesn’t take long to realise that she is doing this on purpose. Clearly, she is no art snob; she looks about as out of place as I do. She is doing this just to be spiteful.

I have loads of time to kill and no particular interest in the artwork, so if she is trying to get a reaction from me it isn’t going to work. But I am bored, so I play her game and see how committed she is to being a nuisance.

I start speeding up, making her dash from piece to piece. I stop randomly, then move slowly, and then move fast again. The woman is clearly out of shape and is starting to struggle to keep up. I am quietly impressed with her dedication.

It is a disappointingly short time before I “win” her little game. She just can’t do it anymore and has to sit down, red in the face and angry. 

I don’t have much time to enjoy my victory as security is already approaching. I pretend to look at a nearby painting with interest as they eject her from the museum for “disturbing other visitors.” Clearly, she forgot about the many CCTV cameras in every room.

I take my time with the rest of the museum. I enjoy it more than I thought I would, but admittedly not as much as I did in the first room.

My partner and I are on a safari ride at a local zoo, which takes the visitors past various animals. There is a family on board the safari truck who are being very loud and obnoxious — swearing, shouting at the animals, etc.

We see a couple of ostriches in the distance. The tour guide points them out over the intercom. The mother of the family either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care.

Mother: *Loudly* “Oh, look, kids! What’s that? I’m gonna call it an emu! HI, EMU!”