I am working at a specialty collectible shop that has floor-to-ceiling walls of Funko Pops. A guy is standing in the middle of the aisle, holding a Marvel ‘Moon Knight’ and a DC ‘The Flash’ figure.

Customer: “Hey, quick question. If I buy these, am I allowed to display them on the same shelf? Like, is it okay to mix Marvel and DC fandoms?”

Me: “You can mix and match any Funko Pops you want, sir. I know Disney’s lawyers have a reputation, but I think you’ll be fine.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, haha. I’m just new to collecting Funkos, so I was wondering if there was some kinda nerd fandom etiquette I’d be in breach of.”

Me: “Well, you’re good. Your collection is your personal decision, and you can mix and match as many as you like.”

Customer: “Even Star Wars and Star Trek?”

Me: “What are you, a monster?”

Last year, I spent a while down in Florida. Before I left, I submitted a change of address to my newspaper subscription.

The paper was supposed to start coming a few days after I went down, but it never came. Well, their Florida delivery service had been flakey in previous years, so I wasn’t too surprised (once they sent it to Cedar Falls, Iowa, for the first two weeks). I went to check my account and found that this time the mistake was mine: I’d filled out my new rental address as 132 Street instead of 123 Street. I changed the address to 123 and waited. 

And waited.

Another week. Still no paper. I’d been chatting online with customer service, and they had no idea why it wasn’t there. Reporting the paper as undelivered and getting a refund was becoming part of my morning routine.

One day, I was walking down the street, and what did I see in the driveway of 132? A familiar New York-based paper. Aha! 

I got on chat again and told them that I knew what was happening: somehow, my address was still listed wrong on their end (even though it was now correct on my account). Problem fixed?

No. No papers on my doorstep. Same familiar, blue-wrapped bundle at the neighbor’s. (I thought about just taking it home, but it could have been possible that [Neighbor] really did subscribe to The Times, and I was too shy to knock on a stranger’s door). 

More chats with customer service. More “I’m pretty sure I know what the problem is, you need to change the address”. More lack of newspaper.

After nearly a month of this, I finally talked to a representative over the phone. I repeated, for the umpteenth time, that they were sending the paper to the wrong address. I said that I thought it was possible that my updated address never made it to the local delivery service and begged them to check with the people on the ground and make sure they had the right information. The person on the phone told me, of course, right away, they were so sorry for my inconvenience.

The next day, my phone rang.

Woman: “Hi, I’m from [town paper delivery], and I wanted to talk to you about your reports of missing papers. Your address is 132 Street, correct?”

Me: “They said they were going to tell you! I just called them YESTERDAY, and they said they were going to give you the right address!”

I explained what had been going on.

Woman: *Sounding relieved.* “Oh, so that’s what it was. No one told us anything, just that we were being reported for failing to deliver the paper. We had our guy taking pictures of the paper on the driveway and everything, and they just kept telling us that we weren’t doing our job.”

I was absolutely outraged that HER team might have gotten in trouble for the COMPANY’S own screwup, and I told her so. In hindsight, maybe I should have called corporate and complained on their behalf, but I was so tired of the whole situation.

The paper started coming the next day. 

A funny postscript to the saga:

I was at my volunteer job at the local aquarium, and I was going to take an Uber home because my bike had a flat tire. One of the other docents heard that I lived on [Street], and he offered me a ride home. It turned out he lived on [Street], too.

The car pulled into the driveway at 132 Street.

Me: “YOU live here?”

Coworker: “Yes.”

Me: “This is going to sound like a strange question, but… back in the fall, was there a period of time when you were inexplicably getting a New York newspaper you weren’t subscribed to?”

Coworker: “Yes, actually, I was.”

Me: “Let me explain what was going on…”

It’s my first job ever, and I’m a few months into it.

Boss: “How are you finding things?”

Me: “Pretty good! Everyone has been nice, even the customers!”

Boss: “Yeah, that’s cool, but remember we’re entering hurricane season. Customers get very upset during hurricane season.”

Me: “Why?”

Boss: “Because we have to close during hurricanes.”

Me: “We’re a craft store.”

Boss: “Yes, but the fury of a hurricane is nothing compared to the fury of grandmother O’Halloran when anyone gets between her and her knitting supplies.”

I laughed it off as some kind of joke.

And then our first hurricane hit. We’re closing early to everyone can get home and do what they need to do, when a group of old ladies starts knocking on the door.

Customer #1: “Hellooooo?”

Customer #2: “You seem to have accidentally locked the door.”

Me: *Talking through the glass doors.* “It’s not accidental, ma’am. We closed about ten minutes ago. We’re all about to leave.”

Customer #1: “But… why?”

Me: “The hurricane?”

Customer #2: “Well, yes, we know about that, that’s why we’re here! If I lose power, I want my knitting to keep me occupied.”

Me: “Well… anyway.”

I start to try to leave, but they keep shouting.

Customer #1: “Wait! Where are you going?!”

Customer #2: “Aren’t you going to let us in?!”

Me: “No, ma’am, we’re closed.”

Customer #1: “But why?!”

I blink. Didn’t we just do this?

Me: “Because of the hurricane, ma’am!”

Customer #2: “Just let us in, will you! We just need to select some colors and—”

My boss suddenly appears behind me.

Boss: “Mrs. O’Halloran, Mrs. Norman. Please stop picking on [My Name] here and go home. Every hurricane you do this, and every time you’re surprised that we have homes and lives to get home to, just like you do! We’re open seven days a week for twelve hours a day, but you always decide when a hurricane is due, that you need to come and top up your supplies! Not today! Go home and hunker down!”

Customer #1: “Well, I never! I have never been treated so rudely in my life! I shall complain!”

Customer #2: “As will I! You expect to remain in business like this?”

Boss: “No, I expect to stay safe like this. Business can wait until tomorrow.”

My boss whisked me away and told me to ignore the rest of the tasks, but…

Boss: “Leave by the back. Those two will be out front tapping on the glass a little while longer yet. They usually leave when it starts to rain… probably because they’re at risk of melting.”

I work security at the hotel. I’m called into the restaurant during breakfast.

Restaurant Manager: “A woman collapsed! I think she’s having a stroke!”

I sprint there while calling rescue. When I arrive, some nosy woman is asking me:

Diner: “What’s wrong with her?”

Me: *As I’m radioing instructions to a colleague to meet the ambulance outside.* “One moment, ma’am.”

Diner: “I’m a guest here, and I am talking to you!”

Me: “I’ll be with you in a second.”

Diner: “I demand to know what’s wrong with her!”

In a split second, I look at her, look at her breakfast, look back at her, and say:

Me: “She ordered that!”

And then I kept watch over the other guest while basic first aid was applied. The nosy woman was suddenly way less demanding after that.

Paramedics were on scene within five minutes. They took her to the nearest hospital, and she was okay.

I’m still baffled by this years later.

I was in a car accident that damaged the car enough that it would be a couple of weeks before it was fixed. I was able to get a ride to work with my boyfriend, but he had a part-time job after his regular full-time job, so he couldn’t give me a ride home unless I was willing to wait 4-5 hours. I was fortunate that one of my coworkers lived a street over from me, so if I waited an hour, they could drive me home (typically to their own house and I walked less than ½ a block home.)

Something to mention: my coworker is HIGHLY allergic to cats, and I have several. During work, this isn’t much of an issue, but being in the tight confines of a car, I didn’t want to cause them any problems as they were doing me a favor. I took the time to move my work clothes into the spare closet and didn’t dress until I was walking out the door, to keep as much cat hair and dander off me as possible.

My car was finally fixed, and I was set to pick it up the following day, so I let my co-worker know how much I appreciated them and gave them a gift card to their favorite restaurant, since they had previously refused any cash for gas and said I wasn’t putting them out at all.

When I gave them the gift card, they said they were disappointed in our friendship and that I was using them. Confused, I asked what they meant. If they wanted cash for helping me out, I’d be happy to give them some.

They said no, that they have dropped me off at my house several times, and we live so close, but I have never invited them over. Even more confused, I said, I obviously couldn’t ask them to my house as my cats would kill them. (Somehow, cats know if someone is allergic). They said that was beside the point, that I should still invite them over.

I asked them why they’d never invited me over, and they said they couldn’t risk my bringing cat hair/dander into their home.

I blinked a few times and just walked away as I had no response. They refused to give me a lift home as we weren’t friends anymore.

I checked in with some coworkers to see if I was missing something, and they all knew about their allergy and were just as confused.