I used to work in an outbound IT call center. We were being trained to take over the support of our employer’s Belgian clients. We had a colleague from the previous team there to show us the ropes and answer any queries we had.

I got a call from a bank saying their Internet was down. I found no procedure for this, so I asked our liaison what to do. After some searching, he gave me the network provider’s number, and I called it.

Me: “Hello, I’m [My Name] from [Company]. I would like to report that one of [Bank]’s locations has no Internet connection.”

Representative: “Hello! Okay, I will need to gather some information. Can you please give me the location’s address?”

Me: “Sure, it’s [address].”

Representative: “Okay, and since when do they have no access?”

Me: “Since maybe half an hour ago.”

Representative: “Okay, and… [My Name], is that you?”

Me: “Yes, I am.”

Representative: “And I am [Representative], sitting behind you!”

And, sure enough, I was talking to a colleague in my own team, two rows behind me.

Apparently, the number our liaison found for the bank’s “network provider” was, in fact, our support number, given TO THE LOCATIONS to call in case they had issues.

It’s my first day and I am walking the shop floor with a trainer.

Trainer: “So, that’s the tour. Any questions?”

Me: “When are bathroom breaks?”

Trainer: “We don’t really have a policy. Go when you need to as long as a manager knows. Mostly, we try to use the backroom loophole.”

Me: “The backroom loophole?”

Trainer: “Yeah! Guaranteed twice a day you’ll be asked by a customer to check the back, even if you’ve already told them we don’t have s*** in the backroom. We usually just go use the bathroom for five minutes, and then come back and tell them we checked and it’s not in stock.”

Me: “Oh! That’s…”

Trainer: “Keeping the customer always right and the bladder always empty!”

In the five months that I was there, the trainer was right. I got to “check the back” at least twice per shift!

For a time, in an in- and outbound IT call center, I used to share a “desk island” — four triangular desks forming a rhombus shape, basically sitting face to face with each other, divided by low panels — with three colleagues. Two of them are involved in this story; following the old trope, let’s call them Alice and Bob.

One time, as I got up to go to our kitchen, both colleagues had just begun a call and I heard the following conversation.

Bob: “Hello, my name is Bob, and I am calling you from [Company].”

Alice: “Hello, Bob, how are you?”

Bob: “I’m fine, thank you. How are you doing?”

Alice: “Thank you. I’m doing good.”

For a moment, I just stood there, thinking, “Have they really called each other?”

Of course, it turned out that no, Alice had simply called someone who had the same name as Bob, and their conversations started with JUST the right delay that their generic greeting questions and answers were in PERFECT sync.

I told them afterward, and we all had a good laugh about it.

My paternal grandmother, God rest her soul, was a very traditional Chinese lady. She was super excited when Mom got pregnant with me. Not only was I the eldest son of her eldest son — which was already a big deal to her — I was slated to be born in the Year of the Dragon, which most East Asian cultures consider an auspicious year.

As such, my grandmother went out of her way to splurge and buy a lot of dragon jewellery for me, all made from solid gold.

But then, my expected due date came and passed. An entire week went by, and my Mom didn’t go into labour. The Year of the Dragon was fast ending, and the Year of the Snake was just two or three days away.

My grandmother promptly began panicking, very vocally, that all her dragon jewellery would go to waste.

Thankfully, on the twenty-third of January, 2001 — the very last day of the Year of the Dragon — I finally decided to come into the world, sparing my grandmother the need to redo the jewellery.

My mom has since joked that I’ve been oversleeping since the womb.

Around the start of the school year, my international boarding school holds a Food Fair where we all showcase local foods from home. As the best baker in school, I am slated to bake four or five big pandan cakes for the Food Fair.

Of the many kitchens available to students, there are only two in the whole school which I would consider adequately stocked: [Kitchen #1] and [Kitchen #2]. With the Food Fair only a few days away, [Kitchen #1] is fully booked, but that isn’t much of an issue. I prefer baking in [Kitchen #2], anyway.

But there is a small snag in the plan: [Kitchen #2] is inside the largest dorm, which is a boys’ dorm, and the only person willing to assist me in the baking process is a girl.

The school has a zero-tolerance policy for people entering the opposite gender dorm. I believe the punishments include suspension and expulsion.

Luckily, I am able to argue my case, and given that I am known to be a well-behaved lad, the school gives me special permission to bring [Assistant] into the boy’s dorm. The Vice Principal himself tells me that it is the first time in school history that a female student will legally enter a boy’s dorm.

[Assistant] and I enter the dorm — every single boy in the vicinity looking completely flummoxed — and begin the baking process. I turn on the oven to preheat while we mix the batter.

Assistant: *Giggling* “Look at all their faces. They can’t believe that you actually brought me in here.”

Me: *Laughs* “Yeah, I mean, we boys have smuggled girls in before, but you’re the very first— Wait, do you smell smoke?”

We both look down and realise that the oven is on fire, and we jump back in fright.

Assistant & Me: “Aaahhhh!”

Assistant: “It’s on fire! What do we do?”

I promptly hit the fire alarm, and a teacher is able to quickly come in with a fire extinguisher and put out the flames.

Me: “Oh, dear. Um, sir, I hope I’m not in any trouble.”

He waves a hand dismissively.

Teacher: “It’s all right. The oven was old, anyway. Just use the second oven only.” *Walks away*

Me: “This was not how I expected today to go.”

We both continue baking and manage to produce the cakes as promised. Within three days, the entire school has heard about our little incident.

On Monday, my entire class corners me and demands answers.

Me: “Yes, it’s true. We set the oven on fire.”

Male Classmate #1: “I don’t care about the oven. Nobody cares about the oven! That’s not important!”

Female Classmate #1: “Yeah! We all need to know one thing.”

Male Classmate #2: “How in the world did you legally bring a girl into [Boy’s Dorm]?! What magics did you use?”

Me: “That’s what you’re concerned about? We burned an oven!”

Female Classmate #2: “Who cares about the fire? How did you get permission to bring a girl into the dorm?”

Me: “But the fire…”

Later…

Assistant: “My entire class cornered me during first period, and you will not believe what they asked me.”

Me: “Let me guess: they didn’t ask you anything about the fire. Instead, they all asked how you legally entered [Boy’s Dorm]? And how to do it themselves?”

Assistant: “Yup. Nobody cared about the fire. Nobody at all!”