For whatever gripes I have about our company, they’re very understanding about sick days. We “officially” have five days per year, but if you’re on day five and need a sixth, as long as you’re not obviously going way over, doing it year after year, or otherwise abusing the generosity, you just get the extra.

I had to do so for the first time last week, as I had already taken three days off through the year and then ended up with a nasty upper respiratory infection — thankfully not THAT one. So, with a doctor’s note in hand, I took off Wednesday through Friday. Everyone wished me a speedy recovery, Human Resources said they’d take care of it, and my boss even offered to bring me over some homemade chicken soup. It was pretty tasty.

Fast forward to Monday. I’ve got another day of antibiotics to go, but I’m feeling as close to 100% as I do most Mondays, so I head in, even wearing a mask just to be safe. Everyone is giving me well wishes and hopes that I am feeling better… except for one coworker who decides to wander over after a bit.

Coworker: “Kind of selfish, huh?”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “Six days.”

Me: “‘Six days’ what?”

Coworker: “You’ve had six sick days this year.”

Me: “Oh, yeah, it sucks being sick. HR cleared it, though.”

Coworker: “Yeah, but we didn’t. We really could have used you.”

Me: “Ha! No. No, you couldn’t have.”

Coworker: “Do you have any idea how busy we were?!”

Me: “Yeah! Not busy at all! Everyone said how slow it was, and I checked the numbers and confirmed it.”

Coworker: “But because you weren’t here, we all had to cover.”

Me: “You don’t even work in my department. What the heck did you have to cover?!”

She lists some tasks.

Me: “…I don’t do those things.”

Coworker: “No, [Coworker #2] does, but because you were lying around the house, she couldn’t, so I had to.”

Me: “Oh. Well, that’s different. Thanks for letting me know.”

Coworker: “So, you get why—”

Me: “I’ll make sure to let our department head know you’re having [Coworker #2] do your work for you. I was wondering why her numbers were down recently.”

Ms. Nose-In-My-Business glared at me and made a motion several times like she was going to start talking. No sounds escaped her, though, and I just kept a pleasant smile. Eventually, she stalked back to her desk, and I got back to mine, and I reminded my teammate to not take on tasks from other departments without instructions from our direct boss.

A customer comes in and is immediately abrasive.

Customer: “You! Latte! Extra hot! Lactose-free!”

Me: “Absolutely! Would you like—”

Customer: “You heard my order. You don’t need to ask any follow-up questions.”

Me: “I was just going to ask what size, ma’am.”

Customer: “Do I look like someone who orders smalls?”

Me: “I honestly have no idea.”

Customer: *Tuts* “And that’s why you’re stuck in a minimum-wage job.”

Me: “So… a large?”

Customer: “Obviously!”

I put her order in and then go about making her drink. My coworker is also making some drinks for customers who ordered earlier, one of them being a latte. As this latte is not for her, my coworker pours in regular milk. The customer, watching like a hawk, sees this.

Customer: “It must have no lactose! Are you stupid?! Lactose-free!“

Coworker: “Ma’am, this drink isn’t—”

Customer: “—isn’t adequate? I agree! Make it again!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am making your drink over he—”

Customer: “Be quiet, order boy. Your part here is done.”

Realizing it’s pointless to argue with this combination of entitled and combative, I just shrug and continue to make her latte. I place it on the counter.

Me: “Ma’am, your latte.”

The customer marches up, but in her ranting and raving, she grabs the drink that isn’t lactose-free.

Me: “Oh, ma’am! Wait, you—”

Customer: “Can you listen to my instructions, or are you just stupid?”

Me: “No, it’s just that you said you didn’t want lacto—”

Customer: “I told you to be quiet!“

Me: “You know what, ma’am? You’re absolutely right. Have a good day.”

She left with the wrong drink. I said nothing. Nothing.

A customer comes out of the changing rooms looking stressed and flustered.

Customer: “There’s something wrong with your dresses! None of them fit!”

Me: “Well, the summer dresses are meant to be quite flexible, but if you’ll forgive me, madam, you seem quite tall. Maybe you should try a large instead of the medium?”

Customer: “I am not a large!

Me: “Ma’am, I am simply saying that because you’re taller than—” 

Customer: “No! I can’t be a large! I eat salad!”

She purchased the medium dresses anyway and stormed out. Honestly, I think she would have looked amazing in the large size.

I work in a movie theater. To keep kids from getting too bored while their parents are paying for snacks, I will often talk to them for a few moments if there’s time. I’ll ask if they’re looking forward to the movie, or I’ll point out one of their snacks and tell them I really like that one, too, or I’ll pay them a minor compliment — telling them their shirt is cool or that I like their light up shoes, for example.

Me: “I like your glasses!”

The young girl I’m talking to looks away, tugging at her glasses.

Girl’s Mom: “Thank you! She just got them a few days ago.”

Seeing how the girl seems very self-conscious about them, I give her a wide smile.

Me: “They’re really cool! I wish I looked as cool as you do. In fact…”

I turn around, pull out the reading glasses that I now keep nearby for just this reason, and put them on.

Me: “There! Now I look almost as cool as you, don’t you think?”

Girl: *Grinning widely* “Yes!”

As they leave with their snacks, I overhear the mom talking to her.

Girl’s Mom: “See, she thought they were cool! Wasn’t that nice?”

The girl agreed, and they walked away. I’ve done this at least five times now, and the kids always leave with their heads held high. I hope that if they hear negative comments from someone else, they can at least remember that another person thought they looked cool.

It’s the Christmas of 2020, and I’m stuck secluded at home with you-know-what. Everyone in my family lives in another state, so I usually fly out there for Christmas. Not this year. So, there I am, sick and miserable, when I hear the doorbell. Confused and more irritated than I already was, I walk over to the window and open it, planning to tell the person that coming here really isn’t a good idea.

The person in question turns out to be my best friend, who tells me to come to the door and then runs back to a group of some of our other friends. Curious now, I do as I’m told. As soon as I open the door, my friends, who are a safe distance away, start dancing and singing!

Friends: “We wish you a merry Christmas; we wish you a merry Christmas; we wish you a merry Christmas; and a healthy New Year!

“Oh, please stay six feet away; oh, please stay six feet away; oh, please stay six feet away; you’re spreading it through the air!

“We won’t stay if you come outside; we won’t stay if you come outside; we won’t stay if you come outside; so, keep your a** right there!

“We wish you a merry Christmas; we wish you a merry Christmas; we wish you a merry Christmas; and a healthy New Yeeeeeeaaarrr!”

By the end of it, I was alternating between laughing and coughing but felt immensely better emotionally. I also finally spotted the gift boxes at my feet, each of which had a bag of cough drops taped to it. My friends insisted on watching me open my presents right there and requested IOUs for their own gifts.

I have the best friends ever.