I work in IT for a government-run building that houses many contractors. In this building, most programmer gets four monitors, which are attached to special mounts to make a two-by-two grid of monitors. I often get rather bland tickets requesting help with these monitors, but one ticket stood out as just a bit more memorable.

Ticket: “I have two functional monitors and one that appears to have misplaced all its cables. (It’s such a forgetful monitor, always leaving its cables everywhere.) I’d like to get AC and I/O cables to hook up my third monitor, as well as a fourth monitor because I’m a greedy, decadent b*****d who wants ALL THE MONITORS! Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie! :) Thank you in advance for enabling my monitor addiction!”

I went to help him, but unfortunately, once we hooked up his third monitor, it turned out that it wasn’t functional. I also had to inform him that I couldn’t provide new monitors; he had to ask the organization he worked for to provide them. He was understanding and thanked me for my attempt to help him.

Two days later, I got a new ticket from him.

Title: “Help me pilfer two monitors like a real pirate! ARRRR, matey!”

Subject: “I have gotten permission from [Person who handles their hardware] (as far as you know…) to steal two monitors from a non-functional desk. Sadly, I lack the appropriate hardware to detach and move monitors. Hey, that’s a hardware problem; we programmers only do software problems!

“Thus, I’m begging any kind IT folks to come on down here with a giant wrench to help me to reappropriate some monitors when no one is looking.  

“They say that a real friend will help you bury the bodies, but this isn’t murder, just a snatch-and-grab burglary, so I figure all you really need is a good acquaintance for that, right? Come on, oh buddy, oh pal! Help me out, and I’ll look the other way if any other monitors go missing…

“For those boring people who want to document things, I’m looking to loot [technical details about where the monitors were that I need before doing a move].

“…I suppose someone might also want to check to see if there is a ticket in to fix the computer at that desk? I would put one in, but I don’t want to risk creating a duplicate. Besides, I’m far less interested in fixing things than I am in looting the corpses of those less fortunate for my personal gain. I blame all the Fallout games I played as a kid.”

After getting the appropriate sign-off on looting, I helped with moving the monitors. When asked about his interesting ticketing approach, the guy explained that he was still waiting for the government’s bureaucracy to get around to getting him all the accounts and permissions he needed to work, so he had nothing better to do than to get creative with the few tasks he could complete.

It’s Halloween, at about 10:00 pm, and I’ve still got several of the treat packets I made up still left. I get a knock at the door, and I’m greeted by four lads around fifteen or sixteen, wearing cheap masks most likely from the local pound shop.

Lads: “Trick or treat!”

Me: “Um, I don’t think you guys will like the treats I’ve got.”

I’m honest with them, hoping to avoid my windows being egged or causing enough of a disturbance to disrupt my toddler asleep upstairs.

Lad #1: “What ya got?”

I grab the bag and open it to show them.

Me: “A small packet of sweets with a Freddo, popping candy eyeball, mini pack of Haribo, and a bubble wand.”

Freddos are chocolate, and Haribo is gummy candy.

Lad #2: “Bubble wands?”

One of the lads pushes past to look in the bag.

Lad #3: “Bubble wands? Are you serious?”

Before I can do anything, the lad shoves his hand in the bag and draws out a bubble wand, holding it high in the air like he just pulled the sword from the stone.

Lad #3: “JACKPOT!”

I stand there in shock as they gleefully take the wands, opening them and wafting them around, filling the street with bubbles.

Lad #3: “Thank you!”

Lad #2: “Epic, man!”

Lad #1: “Nice one!”

They waved as they walked down the street, still making bubbles, talking, and laughing. I’m still in shock, but I certainly hope I see them again next year!

I work for a small restaurant. We just had a number of teens and adults come in for food while dressed up in Halloween costumes, presumably headed for some sort of party or event.

Eventually, one older teen wearing a Princess Bride costume came up to me.

Teen: “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You grilled for my uncle. Prepare to sigh.”

Me: “Huh?”

Teen: “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. My uncle is complaining that his burger isn’t cooked enough. Honestly, I think he’s just imagining it, but it’s probably best to humor him and get him something else so you don’t have to deal with him. He’s a handful. Sorry.”

Me: “As you wish.”

My seven-year-old is an only child but LOVES babies and is always asking for a brother or sister. So, when we were asked at the last minute if we could watch his cousins — four years and eight months old — he said yes before I even thought about it (but I agreed).

Our house wasn’t baby-proofed, so the baby either had to be held or in the playpen. He was not a fan of the playpen. 

Me: “Hey, kiddo, could you watch the baby and play with him while I make him a bottle?”

Son: “Of course! I love babies. Can he play with my toys?”

Me: “He can play with your old giraffe or with Mickey. I’ll be just a minute.”

The baby was hungry and cried for pretty much the entire four minutes it took to make a bottle, no matter what my kiddo did. I walked back out to the living room, and my son looked up at me with the most long-suffering face I’ve ever seen. 

Son: “I never knew raising a baby was so hard!”

I worked for a bookstore in an affluent part of the country, and we had our share of entitled customers who thought we should stay open for their benefit. Our closing announcements were made fifteen minutes to close, five minutes to close, and at closing, but we still got several folks per night who were conveniently deaf to those announcements.

One night, I was working a closing shift after two days of a nasty cold. My throat was still sore and my voice was raspy, and my manager had kept me in the back doing stuff that did not require me to speak much. At 9:45 pm, fifteen minutes before closing, he buzzed the back room.

Me: “Yes?”

Manager: “Hey, how’s the throat?”

Me: “Ready for a cup of hot tea. Why?”

Manager: “Would you like to do the closing announcements tonight? I’m out of patience with people.”

Me: “With pleasure.”

I switched over to the store speakers and deliberately lowered my voice down to the deepest, most gravelly register my throat could manage.

Me: “Good evening. Please be advised that the store will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please bring your items to the front for purchase.” *Beat* “NOW. Thank you.”

Five minutes later, the manager buzzed again, trying not to laugh.

Manager: “Please do that again for the last two announcements. People were running to the registers.”

I did so. When I emerged from the back room five minutes after we had officially closed, there was no one but the staff in the store, and the manager handed me a hot cup of tea from the cafe.