I work in a facility that has a lumber yard, and I’ve only seen one person get fired.

This guy had only been working there for less than a day, maybe just a couple of hours even, and he decided to do some hard drugs in the lumber yard. You know, around heavy machinery and heavy materials, and where customers could see him.

He was very quickly escorted off the property after that — so quickly I never actually met him.

There’s a chain pet supply store a few blocks away from my home. The staff is usually very friendly and helpful. This time… not so much.

I was looking into buying some pet food that I found on their website. The online sale price was 10,99€ a bag, and I needed six of them. They weren’t deliverable for another couple of days, so I decided to walk over to the store. They happened to have it in stock, but for 12,99€. Most of their stock is slightly more expensive than the online store, but I don’t mind; the store generates jobs and I’m happy to have a place nearby where I can get good quality food.

So, I dragged my bulky, heavy stuff to the counter to pay, and I was shocked at how much it rang up to.

Me: “Is that right? They rang up as 39,99€ a piece! They were 10,99€ online, and your sign says 12,99€. Is there some kind of mistake in the system?”

Cashier: “Yeah… maybe.”

Me: “Could you look it up, please? That’s quite the difference.”

Cashier: “Sure, I will look it up later. 239,94€, please.”

Me: *A bit surprised* “Could you please check now?”

Cashier: “I will look it up later.”

I assume the cashier had some kind of brain fart; he’s always been great otherwise. I left the store empty-handed and ordered the food online a few days later for about 66€.

I placed an online grocery delivery order with one of Australia’s largest supermarkets. I realised the morning of the delivery (after the cutoff to change things) that the payment information on the order was wrong — my fault. The order had not yet been shopped, so they hadn’t attempted to charge the card.

I called customer care and explained the situation to them. They told me I couldn’t make changes after the cutoff. I had to admit defeat. I knew the order would be cancelled if the card couldn’t be charged, and sure enough, around midday, I got the email telling me that the order was cancelled.

But mid-afternoon, the order was delivered.

Me: *To the delivery driver* “I got an email that this order was cancelled because the payment information was wrong.”

Driver: *Shrugging* “Call customer care.”

I spent the entire afternoon calling customer care and the store that filled the order.

Customer Care: “Because the order was cancelled, the system doesn’t give us the option to let you pay now.”

Eventually, the lady told me:

Customer Care: “We’ll have the store investigate how your order was delivered without payment, and we’ll let you know.”

Around three weeks later, I finally got an email from the customer service team.

Manager: “Dear [My Name], thank you for contacting us regarding your recent [Store] order.

“I am writing to you in regards to your query about your cancelled order. Once an order is cancelled, it cannot be reinstated. It is entirely the store’s error that they have delivered a cancelled order. Unfortunately, we cannot take payment for that order, but we certainly appreciate the sentiment.

“In the rare cases that this happens, the customer is entitled to keep the order as we advise that we cannot take it back due to health and safety concerns. If you have any further queries, please do not hesitate to call us at [phone number].

“Once again, [My Name], my sincere apologies for being unable to meet our goal and provide you with a convenient service.

“Yours Sincerely, [Manager].”

On a recent trip to Florida, my husband, mother-in-law, and I go for breakfast at a bakery that was recommended to us. It is one of those little places in a strip mall that sells bagels, eggs, and, because it’s Florida, fresh-squeezed orange juice. When I am a millionaire, I am getting a professional juicer for fresh orange juice every day!

As we park the car and prep our masks, a huge pickup truck dragging a small trailer hitch behind it parks diagonally across the six or seven spots next to us. Already we can tell this is a kind and conscientious person

Out steps a dude who’s maybe in his fifties. He hops out of his truck and struts toward the bakery. Despite the “masks required” sign on the door, inside the bakery, many customers and even one of the workers are much less compliant, including our friend with the truck. We line up and place our orders to go, and I wait outside with my mother-in-law while my husband bravely sacrifices himself to wait inside for our food

We wait outside for what feels like forever, and finally, my husband emerges from the bakery with all the bags of food and the buzzing energy of “let’s just get out of here and I’ll tell you the story later.”

In the car, he tells us what happened.

Husband: “While the few workers who were in there ran around, some poor guy showed up for his first day of work, and nobody knew about it or what to do with him. They had to make some phone calls to sort things out, and parts of orders were missing as a result of the chaos. Meanwhile, our parking champion friend was chatting up all the workers and distracting them. He even turned to the new worker and asked him what high school he went to. Like now is a good time to chit-chat about this poor guy’s personal history and resume! Why do you care? You haven’t been to high school in decades! And who elected you the mayor of this bakery? Can you please socialize with your friends instead of busy workers who are not paid enough to give you mediocre bagels?”

As I was driving around on a Friday, my truck repeatedly warned me that my windshield washer fluid was low, so I decided I would top up the fluid as soon as I got home.

Now, the windshield washer fluid reservoir in this thing is huge. In the six years of driving this truck, I think we’ve had to add fluid about six times. So, cue me looking in the manual for how to open the flipping hood (the release is hidden on the bottom of the steering column), opening the hood, digging out the jug of washer fluid, and getting ready to add it — just as the garage opener light times out, making the garage a lot darker.

Undaunted, I spotted something that looked like a windshield washer reservoir, took off the cap, and poured the fluid in… only to have it splash over my hands. It was already full! Cue WTF moment, turning on the garage light switch, and looking at the truck manual once more.

I had just added windshield washer fluid to the brake fluid reservoir! Yikes!

Long story short, the auto club towed my truck to the garage, where the mechanic flushed the brake fluid completely. Fortunately, everyone had time in their schedules, so I was back on the road by the end of the day (at a price, of course).

Lesson learned. Don’t do a task like this when: 1) you haven’t done it in over a year; 2) you’re tired; 3) you’re hurrying (when there is no good reason to hurry); 4) you can’t actually see properly.

I was glad that I had a regular, trusted mechanic who I could call to check just how bad my mistake was. Otherwise, I might have risked driving the 20 km (at highway speeds) to the garage, which would have pumped the washer fluid through the brake lines.