(I’m explaining to a coworker during coffee break what my pet peeves are:)

Me: “My pet peeve is when in a movie there’s an airplane tumbling out of the sky, and a child turns to their father to ask, ‘Are we going to die?’ and the dad says, ‘NO, of course not!’ Of course we’re going to die! We’re all going to die! Maybe not today, but we’re all going to die!”

Coworker: *starting to smirk* “What makes you say that?”

Me: “Statistics. Literally many billions of people have lived on this earth, and none of them have grown much older than a hundred years. Everybody dies.”

Coworker: “Statistics, you say? Well… there are currently literally billions of people alive, including you and me, and literally none of them have ever died before… so…”

Several months ago my cousin woke up with an absolutely massively swollen right eye, so naturally, she went to the hospital to have that checked out. They administered two CT scans, diagnosed her with a large, inoperable, cancerous tumor sitting right behind her right eye, and gave her six months to live.

Cancer is rampant in our family, so this makes sense in the context. However, she’s always been kind of easy-going and also, she refuses to believe it, so she just didn’t tell anybody and went about her life as usual.

A few weeks after the diagnosis, she was at a normal dentist appointment, and whenever anything touched her right cheek, it hurt a lot, more than it ever had at the dentist, even though she was just having a check done. Her dentist informed her that she had a severe sinus infection. She told him about her recent diagnosis, and he was absolutely not having it.

The next day they went back to the hospital together, in his free time, and he demanded they do another check and pointed out her sinus infection. It turned out he was right; she had a severe sinus infection, not a deadly tumor, that had spread up to right behind her right eye, and had caused an infection. She received normal treatment for that, and within a short time everything was back to normal. The first CT scan had been incorrectly calibrated, and the second one had been incorrectly interpreted.

Having spent many of my teenage years in hospitals myself, I’ve seen a lot, but I had never personally encountered a doctor as dedicated as that dentist before.

A friend of mine lives in the US. One day, he mentions going to a popular fast food chain that doesn’t exist in Germany. As I’m a curious person and always eager to try new foods, this makes me want to try said chain. I already know it doesn’t exist in Germany, so I do a bit of research; there are only two stores of this chain in all of Europe, and I feel it’s not worth it to travel all the way for some fast food.

I’m sure a lot of people will call this story fake because what I do next is flat-out absurd, but I decide to write to this company. This, however, proves difficult. Their webpage has a contact form, but you need a receipt from one of their stores, and a valid US address and phone number to use it, neither of which I can provide. Frustrated, I do a bit of research, and after a while, I come across the mailing address of this fast food chain’s parent company. Thus, I take a pen and a sheet of paper and start writing:

“Dear Sir/Madam!

Ever since hearing about [Fast Food Chain]’s food from a friend who lives in the USA, I’m eager to try it myself. Unfortunately, there are no [Fast Food Chain] stores in Germany. Could you please open a store here, preferably in [City I live in] or [Next City]?

Sincerely,

[My Name]”

I then find an old postcard with a floral design in my desk, put it in the envelope with the letter, and add:

“PS: In case you’re not the person in charge of this decision, could you please forward this letter for me?

PPS: I added a postcard because unfortunately, if I sent you real flowers, they’d probably die before this letter arrives.”

I then send this letter, not really expecting a reply. A few months go by without a response, and I nearly forget about the whole thing.

Then, a package arrives. It contains a lot of [Fast Food Chain] merchandise — a shirt, a tote bag, a water bottle, some plastic fast food toys, etc — and a notebook with a reply to my letter on its first page.

“Dear [My Name],

Thank you so much for your letter! It totally made our day. The postcard is now sitting on our desk. Unfortunately, we don’t know if or when we can open a [Fast Food Chain] store in Germany, but we forwarded the letter for you. In the meantime, please enjoy these gifts from [Fast Food Chain].

Your friends at [Parent Company],

[Employee #1] and [Employee #2].”

There’s still no store from this chain in Germany, but I’m now saving up money to visit them some day and try [Fast Food Chain] together with my friend.

I work in recruitment, and part of my job is to organise the reimbursement of people’s travel costs when they attend an interview. One day, shortly after Germany was knocked out of the World Cup, an interviewee filled in an expense claim for two nights in a hotel before and after her interview. I processed the request as normal and everything seemed fine, but after a couple of weeks she got in touch asking for an update on her claim. According to payroll, the full amount had been paid, but she insisted she hadn’t received it.

She became increasingly upset over the course of several days as we emailed back and forth, with me providing evidence that the payment had been sent, whilst she sent evidence that her bank had never received the money. Eventually, I asked payroll to check that they hadn’t mistyped her bank details, and they sent me a screenshot. It turned out that they had looked at the receipt from the hotel and, instead of using the interviewee’s bank details, had used what was written in the footer of the receipt document: the bank account of the hotel.

After facepalms all round, and a lot of awkward apologies from payroll, we finally transferred the payment to the interviewee’s account. She sent a very grateful email, ending with, ‘We may have lost at football, but at least I didn’t lose my money.”

(I’ve recently started work at a major clothing discounter that also sells decoration, toys, and other knick knacks. I’m still new, but learning. Today I’ve been assigned to the till, in addition to hanging newly-arrived clothes in the shop. An elderly lady approaches me:)

Customer: “Do you have ‘footers’? Your coworker back there told me they should be near the checkout.”

Me: *having never heard the word “footer” in relation to clothing* “I’m sorry, what exactly are you looking for? If you mean socks, we have—”

Customer: “No! It’s like a fine stocking, only just for the foot.”

(I’m a bit confused at this point, because we have something similar in the direction she actually came from.)

Me: “Nothing like that at the till, but if you’d like, I’ll go and get some for you from—”

Customer: *cutting me off for the second time* “I don’t have time for this! Now ring up!” *slams two t-shirts near the till*

(I ring the purchase up, putting the hangers away and folding the shirts in front of the customer. We are not required to fold them perfectly at the checkout — only for display — because most customers just stuff them in a bag or take them in their hands. Nobody complains about it, and people are usually happy when I try to save them some space. This sourpuss, though, unfolds them demonstratively in front of me and folds them slowly, while looking at me like I’m some new and ugly sort of cockroach.)

Customer: “You’ve certainly not been here long.”

Me: *trying to smile and gritting my teeth* “No, I actually have not.”

Customer: “Huh, yeah. One can see it.”

Me: “This will be 16,99€, please.”

(The customer throws a 20€ note at me without saying a word.)

Me: *overly polite* “Thank you! And there’s your change and your receipt!”

(The customer stuffs her purchase into her bag, completely ruining her making-a-point-folding, and looks down on me.)

Me: *with an obviously fake smile* “Thank you for your purchase! Have a great weekend!”

(The customer glares at me, still saying nothing, and finally goes away. I look at my coworker, who has arrived at the second till meanwhile.)

Me: “Well, I just had my first grumpy grandma.”