(There is a lighted crossroads that my mum and I go through daily. On the corner of that junction is a pub with a carpark that opens up either side of the crossroads. If you wanted to avoid the lights, arguably you could drive through the car-park to the other side, as it would cut them out. However, the children’s playground of the pub is literally just off the car-park so children are often in it, as well, and there are signs everywhere threatening fines if you do that. Plus, it’s a jerk move. Mum and I have lined up at the crossroads in the lane turning left, and are in a small queue of traffic with a Ford at the front with a number of cars queuing behind us. The car in front of us — who earlier cut us off — decides to turn into the car-park.)

Me: “He’s going through the car-park, I bet.”

(He goes fairly slowly through the car-park, but he definitely is heading towards the other exit. Our light turns green, and we all start slowly filing around the corner.)

Mum: *under her breath* “Speed up, Ford.”

(I look at her and see she’s keeping half an eye on the driver who is trying to use the car-park as a shortcut.)

Mum: “Go on, just a little faster.”

(The Ford seems to hear us, and does speed up. He blocks the pub exit, meaning the driver has to wait for all of us to go past before he can go out.)

Mum: “Stare him down, [My Name].”

(I did so whilst cackling. He was not impressed.)

(I am waiting patiently for a prescription to be filled in a quiet pharmacy.)

Pharmacist: “Found it; here you go!”

Me: *takes bagged item* “Thanks.”

Pharmacist: “No problem, bye!”

Me: “Uhh… I still need to pay for this.”

Pharmacist: “Oh! I’m so sorry. Thank you for your honesty.” *rings up the transaction*

Me: “Well, not that I would anyway, but it would be kind of stupid for me to run off, seeing as you know exactly who I am and where I live.” *gestures to my address printed on the bag*

Pharmacist: “You wouldn’t believe what some people try.”

This happens when I am working at a small independent appliance store.

I am on the shop floor when a foreign gentleman comes in enquiring about a new cooker. He has a grant from the local council, from which he can select anything matching the description. For example, he could not get a TV on a grant for cooking appliances.

I ask him what he has in situ, and he is not sure. I take his details, and as he is only a two minute walk from the store, I ask the boss if I can just go down and have a look. He agrees as it is not busy.

He has in place a gas cooker, which, as we do not have the correct certification, we are not allowed to disconnect or reconnect. I explain this to him and offer for us to liase with a gas fitter and arrange for the disconnect and reconnect when we deliver the new one. He declines, saying he can do it.

We get back to the shop and select one that he likes, which fits with what he already has and is within the cost of the grant. A couple of days pass and we receive the new cooker. I call the chap and let him know it’s in. I ask if the old one is disconnected and he says yes. Later that afternoon we go round and it still isn’t disconnected. I explain to him again that because of the certification, we would get in a lot of trouble for touching it, especially as the local housing authority would want to see some kind of certificate, which we cannot provide. I offer again to arrange with one of the gas fitters that we are friendly with to meet up with us and do it. Again, he says no; he will do it.

Another few days pass and the customer calls the shop and says it is ready now. We go to the house and there is a distinct smell of gas. I ask what he has done and he says he has taken the pipe off the old one and blocked the main gas. I have a look, and to my bewilderment, he has stuck a bottle cap into the gas pipe, jamming the valve open, thus leaking gas into the house. I immediately tell him that we will have to leave and call the gas board and fire department. He is refuses, saying we cannot tell him what to do in his own house. I am very concerned at this point, not wanting to get blown up, so all customer service goes out of the window. I shout at the chap telling him that unless he wants to kill us all and blow the house to pieces, we need to get the f*** out and not touch any switches. We all evacuate, and the fire and gas people turn up pretty promptly, closing off the entire road.

In the end the customer got a hefty fine from the fire department, but at least no one was hurt.

(I used to volunteer with a suicide prevention charity while at university. I put it on hold while I moved around the country looking for a job. Once settled down, I start up again working on Saturday evenings. A month later, my employer has fired a manager to cut back on costs, and for us agreeing to jointly fulfill the role, we have each gotten a small increase in wages. Said manager was also involved in the night shifts, which we now have to fulfil.)

Manager: “All right, so it’s [My Name] and [Coworker] on Saturday and Sunday… [My Name] Saturday and [Coworker] Sunday.”

Me: “I’d rather we switched. I’m busy Saturday evenings.”

Coworker: “I don’t mind switching.”

Manager: “No, you have that report due in on Mondays, and you can’t do it if you have worked the Sunday shift.”

Me: “I can do the report on Sunday. It doesn’t take long.”

Manager: “No, that won’t work.”

Coworker: “[Manager], it’s fine. I’ll do the Saturday.”

Manager: “No, [My Name] is new, and he has to learn proper respect and authority. He will work Saturday.”

Coworker: “Mate, he volunteers with [Charity] on Saturdays. Also I have been here long enough to learn ‘respect and authority’ and I say I’m working the Saturday!”

(Our manager scoffs at us but eventually lets us switch. I arrive at my next shift with Charity, and am told someone has been ringing in every few minutes. We suspect it might be a prank caller, or someone who is in distress and is unable to maintain the call. We’re on alert, though, in case they phone back. I end up being the next person to take the call.)

Me: “[Charity]. This is [Alias]—”

Manager: *recognising my voice* “No, you’re [My Name]. It’s [Manager]. I’ve been calling all night to see if you actually do work there and not just being lazy… See you on Monday!” *hangs up*

(The others at Charity weren’t happy with me, and I had a few choice words for Manager when I got in. He didn’t understand how inappropriate it was to flood a suicide prevention service to prove someone volunteered there.)

(I look similar to the comedian Sue Perkins to the point where random people I don’t know comment on it. I’ve found out that two-thirds of the employees of the company I work for, including me, are either going to be made redundant. As it’s early days, no one at the company knows what’s actually going to happen to us, including the people who have made this decision. My biggest issue with the entire situation is the fact I had just felt like I had gotten my life back on track after a nasty period of time, and that has been taken from me. I’ve been messaging a friend about it, when she decides to call me. We have a bit of a conversation when this happens:)

Friend: “Just remember, though, there is only one you in the world, and no one can replace you.”

Me: “Sue Perkins.”

Friend: *pause* “Well… That’s a pretty good replacement, to be fair.”