I’m looking to buy a digital camera as a gift for a friend who I know needs one. The camera I have is very good and I know it would suit my friend’s needs, so I’m looking for another one online. I find a seller on [Auction Website] selling a new one for a good price with cheap shipping, so I order it right away.

I live in a relatively small town in North Dakota, and the winters can be pretty harsh, so I think nothing of it when I get an email from the seller about the camera, telling me that the shipment may be delayed due to a bad winter storm in their area. I reply, saying that it’s fine and I understand, as my area is also currently experiencing a bad winter storm.

Out of curiosity, I navigate to the seller’s page to see where they are shipping from. To my surprise, they are shown as being in the same small North Dakota town I’m in! And somehow, neither of us noticed this before.

I have a laugh and email the seller again, pointing out the funny coincidence, and offering to just meet them somewhere local and pick up the camera if they would prefer. They reply with equal astonishment and amusement and agree to meet at a coffee shop for the hand-off.

We meet and share another laugh about the situation, and they even refund me the shipping charge in cash.

Customer: “Do you have any Asian flavors?”

Me: “Yes, we have a Korean BBQ.”

Customer: “That’s Indian, honey, not Asian.”

My house is located right on the edge of [Town #1]; the house across the street is in [Town #2]. I placed an order with a large home improvement company, putting my address in as [Town #1] for the delivery. The day it was due to be delivered, I got an email saying there was an issue. I called customer service. 

Me: “Hi, I was told there’s an issue with my delivery?”

Customer Service: “Yes, we have [my address using Town #1] but our delivery service is telling us it’s [my address using Town #2]. Can you verify so we can change the address?”

Me: “[My address with Town #1] is correct.”

Customer Service: “Okay, so, I have [my address with Town #2]—”

Me: “No, not [Town #2], [Town #1].”

Customer Service: “Ma’am, our delivery service does not recognize your address with [Town #1]. It has to be [Town #2].”

Me: “It’s not. I run into this problem all the time, but my legal address is in [Town #1]. [Town #2] is across the street, so I understand the confusion, but I assure you, it’s [Town #1].”

Customer Service: “Could you do me a favor, miss? Please read me your address as it appears on your driver’s license or utility bill.”

Me: “Okay. It’s [my address in Town #1].”

Customer Service: *Quiet sigh* “Okay, miss. Let me put you on hold.”

Ten minutes pass.

Customer Service: “Thank you for holding. Unfortunately, the address you insist on using is not valid, so we have cancelled your order. You should get your money back in seven to fourteen business days.”

Me: “What?! Are you serious?”

Customer Service: “Yes, ma’am. If you cannot provide a valid shipping address, we cannot ship to you. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Me: “No. We’re done here.”

I hung up, upset. I debated leaving a negative review online but decided it wasn’t worth my energy. Instead, I placed an order with their competitor, using my address in [Town #1], and I had it waiting on my doorstep in a few days. I also did an Internet search using my address in [Town #2], and guess what I found? It doesn’t exist!

This happened in the mid-2000s while cellphones were generally used for talking and people printed out directions from the Internet before going somewhere. My little sister had moved out to the state of New York for college, and I wanted to surprise her on her birthday by making a road trip up there and popping up at her door.

I made an incredibly boneheaded move of printing out instructions from the website Mapquest rather than buying a road atlas, and I quickly found myself lost in New York City with no idea where I was. I tried asking people for directions, but they would either rudely head me off — police included! — or give me a set of convoluted directions that would get me lost even further.

It began to grow dark and I seriously started to panic to the point where I was sweating gallons while gulping can after can of fruit punch. By then, I had at least a dozen different written directions in my car.

In desperation, I got out of my car and ducked into a tiny convenience store that was eerily lit with yellow lighting, and behind the counter, I saw a man staring vaguely into space. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed over, and I could tell he was definitely stoned.

Me: “Excuse me. Can you tell me how to get out of New York City? I’m trying to get to [City].”

The man was silent for about five seconds.

Man: “You want to get out of New York City… and go to [City]… Where exactly in [City]?”

Me: “[University].”

There was another five-second silence.

Man: “[University]…”

He spoke slowly, with a stoic and emotionless face, without blinking or moving.

Man: “So, you’ll want to leave and take a left… You will find a traffic light… Turn onto [highway]…”

There was yet another five-second silence.

He continued giving these complex directions — with all kinds of traffic lights, highway exits, turn left, turn right, go under the bridge steps included — in this eerily calm voice, pausing two to five seconds in between each one, as I frantically jotted them all down. When he finally finished:

Me: “Thank you so much!”

An awkward silence fell. I started heading for the door.

Man: “You’re welcome.”

I was extremely skeptical about these directions, but I was so desperate to get out of the New York City streets after dark that I would have taken directions from a seven-year-old.

Would you believe me if I told you the directions Mr. Stoner gave were 100% accurate, down to each stop sign, and led me STRAIGHT TO THE MONUMENT SIGN of the university?

I have to call a US customer service number to resolve an issue. [Clerk #1] answers the phone and does his spiel in English.

Me: “Erm, hi. I’m [My Name] and I’m calling from the UK. Someone’s used my email to make an account with you and I want it removed.”

Clerk #1: “Er, erm. I have to transfer you to someone who will be able to speak your language, okay?”

I’m really confused but also very British.

Me: “Oh, okay.”

I get transferred, hold for about twenty seconds, and get [Clerk #2], who does presumably the same spiel but in Spanish.

Me: “Er, I’m really sorry, but I can pretty much only say hello and goodbye in Spanish.”

Clerk #2: “I am so sorry; he said you were from Spain.”

Me: *Pauses* “I said I was from the UK.”

Clerk #2: *Audible pain* “That’s not Spain… How can you mess those two up?”

He resolved my issue.