Our mayor and our prefect decided to make masks compulsory in all the streets during the health crisis. The administrative court found the decree too restrictive and suspended it.

On Friday, I leave work at lunchtime with a friend because she comes to eat at my house and it is the day of the new, less restrictive decree.

Me: “Oh! Oh! We don’t need masks anymore for commuting! Our streets are no longer in the decree.”

I show the article on my phone.

Friend: “That’s good. I’m too hot; I’ll take it off!”

I decide to keep my mask on anyway.

On the way, we come across two policemen.

Policeman #1: *To my friend* “The absence of a mask is a 135-euro fine!”

Friend: “It’s no longer obligatory in this street!”

Policeman #2: “What do you mean?”

I still have my phone. I find the article and show it to him.

Policeman #1: “Yes, but you have it!”

Me: “Yes, but it’s no longer an obligation!”

Policeman #2: *Rereading the article* “And the mayor says that, even in the streets where it’s no longer compulsory, he still recommends wearing it!”

Friend: “And you’re going to fine me for not taking a simple recommendation?”

The policeman finally stopped trying to give my friend the fine.

I can understand that the police are not informed; the article was published ten minutes before this at the most, and it is possible that there are communication problems between the hierarchy and the police officers in the field, but it is better to recognize when you make a mistake, rather than justify it in any way.

I’m at the front desk at my school fair where people buy tickets for activities, helping out to get service hours needed to graduate. When you buy tickets, your child/children automatically get a bracelet so they can play the Wheel of Fortune. It is one bracelet per child, and you can only play once. A boy, about ten or eleven, comes up with his newly-purchased tickets.

Boy: “I’d like a bracelet, please.”

Me: “Sure, what color would you like? We have red, blue, green, and yellow.”

Boy: “I’ll have blue, please.”

I attach his blue bracelet and he is on his way. After this, it gets incredibly busy and we are rushing to give bracelets and change. The boy returns to the counter and he looks vaguely familiar, but at this point, I’ve seen probably 150 children in thirty minutes.

Boy: “Could I have a bracelet, please?”

Me: “Have you had one already? I’m sorry, I don’t remember if I’ve seen you already.”

Boy: “No, I haven’t had one yet, but my brother did.”

Me: “All right, pick a color.”

He picks a color and I put it on him before he runs off again. I make note of his face and clothes in case he returns again. Sure enough, ten minutes later, he’s back.

Boy: “I’d like a bracelet, please.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t give you one; I remember you from earlier. In fact, I think I already gave you two.”

Boy: “No! I haven’t had one yet! Give me a bracelet!”

Me: “Could you go get your parent, please? I’d like to confirm with them; I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

He leaves again and comes back with one of his parents. It’s important to note that parents and kids can’t see the boxes of bracelets since they’re under the table with a table cloth over it, covering the front.

Parent: “What seems to be the issue? My son told me you’re refusing to give him a bracelet. They come free with the tickets, right?”

Me: “Yes, they do, but they are limited to one per child. I could be wrong, but I think I remember your child coming by once, if not twice already.”

Parent: *Now angry* “He hasn’t had his bracelet yet! How dare you accuse my child of lying?! Now give him a yellow bracelet or I’ll report you to administration!”

Me: “Sir, there are other families around, so I need you to keep your voice down. I cannot give your child another bracelet since you’ve just proved to me that he’s had one already. The bracelets are under the table so you have no way of knowing what colors we have available right now. And if I may add, next time you try to trick us, throw away the previous bracelets. I can see them sticking out of the pocket of your coat.”

He turned bright red and spluttered incoherent sounds before grabbing his child and speed-walking away. Our “manager” congratulated me for standing my ground and gave me a free drink from the concessions stand, as well as bonus service hours.

Related:
Brace(let) Yourselves For An Angry Ending

I’m in a convenience store when I see a couple running towards the store. They look at the hours posted on the door and enter.

Man: “The store really closes at 10:00 pm?”

It’s not far from 8:00 pm.

Cashier: “Yes, as written on the door.”

Woman: “But on Google, it says you close at 8:00 pm!”

Cashier: “Sorry, we didn’t put the schedules on Google. Anyone can put them on.”

Woman: “So, we ran for nothing. We have guests at 8:30, we forgot things, and we thought we wouldn’t make it in time.”

Man: “You need to change that now.”

Cashier: “I will do it later. I don’t think my manager would appreciate it if I used my phone during work when there were customers waiting.”

Woman: “And can we see her?”

Cashier: “Sorry, she’s not here now.”

Woman: “So, you can change them now!”

Not having found what I was looking for, I left the store. I took a picture of the schedules on the door with my phone, and when I got home, I corrected the information on Google.

About two decades ago, I started to do extensive research about true crimes. It led me to write my first book, and several of them since. Being the early 2000s, digital cameras were still very expensive, so, when I went to archives or libraries for documentation, when I couldn’t do copies — which happened a lot, because old documents were too large or fragile — I pretty much had to integrally transcript on a notebook each and every newspaper article I needed for my stories. That was long, and sometimes exhausting, but totally worth it.

When I left my folks to live near Paris, I did buy a digital camera and a laptop, and man, did it radically change my efficiency!

But when I went to the main French library, I was scolded like a child by librarians when I tried to take pictures of newspaper articles. I was very surprised; that was the first and only place I was reprimanded for it, so I thought there were special rules I didn’t know about. Since I didn’t like their tone, the place, and a few other things about it, I stopped going there for almost a decade. 

But to be honest, the library was the best place to go to find pretty much every French newspaper ever published without having to drive hours to go to local archives, where staff were usually way nicer and none used such drastic rules! Since one of my books truly needed every piece of information available, I drove to about sixty different places throughout the country to complete my files during the next few years.

Meanwhile, some colleagues confirmed for me that no other study place in France worked that way — only official archives, and even then, only with files containing sensitive information, and absolutely not newspapers. So, I tried my luck again in the library, only to be rebuked once again when they saw I brought my camera. I tried to ask if they were sure they weren’t wrong, but it was like talking to a wall, so I called it a day and used my laptop to type the articles.

I went there about ten times in two months, and a librarian eventually noticed that I was ordering about twenty newspapers on each visit. He asked me about my work, and when I explained I had to copy articles, he asked, “Don’t you ever bring your camera? It would be way faster!

“But every time I’ve tried that, your colleagues have told me it’s forbidden!” I exclaimed.

“Not at all!” he assured me.

The truth was that about a week before that precise day, library management did realize that laws had changed about photographs in libraries and did accordingly apply them. The problem was that my very first try at that library happened… about six months after the law was effective.

I honestly couldn’t repeat each and every curse word that came right away to my mind about these bureaucrats without being censored definitely there.

But believe me, there was a huge bunch of them.

I work in a hotel. It’s a slow Sunday around 2:00 pm. A guest I recognise from his check-in yesterday comes to the front desk from the outside. 

Guest: “Hi! My name is drunk. Can you give me my key card, please?”

Me: “Yes, sure.”

I hand him his key. He drops his key twice, and he falls twice trying to get onto the elevator.

Guest: “Can you please tell me my room number?”

Me: “It’s 234.”

Guest: “Thank you so much!”

He finally gets onto the elevator. My coworker is dumbfounded.

Coworker: “Did that guy just say, ‘Hi! My name is drunk.’?”

Me: *Laughing* “Yup!”

A few hours later, the guest comes back from his room.

Guest: “Hi! Uh… sorry to bother you, but… when did I come back here?”

Me: “Around 2:00 pm.”

Guest: “Gosh… I left at 11:00 am. I don’t remember anything, nor how I ended up in my room.”

Me: “Well, you weren’t at your best.”

Guest: “How bad?”

Me: “I’d say really tired!”

Guest: “Please be honest.”

Me: “You came in and said, ‘Hi! My name is drunk.’ And you fell twice in front of the elevator.”

Guest: “Oh, my… F***, I’m so, soo sorry about that!”

Me: “Don’t worry, it’s calm today; you made my afternoon!”

Every time I saw this guest for the rest of his stay, he kept apologizing. But it was so funny how he was too drunk to know his name but stayed polite all along!