(Where I work, we used to have daycare where you could dump your kid off and grocery shop around the store, then pick the kid up after you were done shopping. By the time I start working at the store, the daycare thing isn’t there anymore, so most people just keep their kids with them and it isn’t needed. Some people don’t know that it’s closed, and still try to leave their kids there. I am working by the counter when a lady with a baby carriage comes by.)

Lady: “Excuse me. I found this baby alone in the aisle.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Lady: “I found this baby in his carriage alone in the aisle. I looked for the parent but I couldn’t find them.”

Me: “I’ll go get my manager.”

(I go get the manager, who makes an announcement on the speaker. The lady waits with us, and calms down the baby when he starts to get fussy. After twenty minutes, another lady leaving the checkout with groceries comes over.)

Mother: “Oh, so this is where they took you. I thought I left him at the daycare?”

Manager: “We don’t have a daycare anymore.”

Mother: “You don’t? Oh, well, at least you watched him.”

(The lady who found him decides she doesn’t like how she said that and blows up.)

Lady: “How dare you leave a child in the middle of an aisle, without checking to make sure it all right?! I should call child services on you!”

(The mother decides it’s the best time to leave and speeds out of there with her baby. After she leaves, the lady calms down and apologizes for her outburst.)

Lady: “Sorry. I have kids at home and I hate when parents do that to their kids.”

(We just nodded. The lady left to go back to her grocery shopping, and I went back to doing my job.)

(I work at a pool that offers private lessons, on top of normal lessons seven days a week. The last day for lessons in the summer is at the end of August, and then there are two weeks off until the fall session starts up. This gives time for everything to transfer over and for those running lessons to set up and organize everything. While it has been that way for a long time, we obviously have had signs posted about this everywhere for months, and the start date for lessons is clearly indicated on the receipt parents get when they register. It’s the beginning of September and I am covering a Friday shift, which I thought would be easy because no lessons are running. Then, a mom walks in with two kids in swimsuits.)

Mom: “Hi. I’m here for my children’s private lesson.”

Me: “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but lessons don’t start up until the Friday after next week.”

Mom: “What?”

Me: “I’m sorry, we usually have two weeks in between to set up for the fall session. Did front desk not tell you when you came in?”

Mom: “No! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUR YOUNGEST’S FIRST DAY OF SWIMMING LESSONS! WE PAY EXTRA AND NO ONE THINKS TO PHONE US OF THIS? WE ARE HERE EVERY FRIDAY AND NOBODY TOLD US THIS!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. They didn’t tell you when you finished lessons in August?”

Mom: “NO! We don’t take lessons in August because we are off.”

Me: “Oh, well, if you—“

Mom: “THIS IS RIDICULOUS! THERE SHOULD’VE BEEN A PHONE CALL. NOW WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? WE DROVE ALL THE WAY HERE BECAUSE WE LIKE THIS POOL AND—“

(I realize she will be yelling for a while, so I just stand back and let her finish her rant. When she finishes and I make sure she is done, I point to the sign about lessons not starting up until mid-September, which clearly states that ALL LESSONS won’t be happening until a certain start date.)

Me: “We’ve had these signs up since May.”

(The mom looks at it and immediately turns red, but she isn’t backing down without a fight.)

Mom: “Well, if I saw this, I wouldn’t think it applied to private lessons.”

(I could’ve asked for her receipt and pointed out the start date, but in the end, we ended up making it work for her. One of the guards was about to go on break and had taught the woman’s daughter before, so she offered to teach them for the day, and I helped with the little one’s first lesson. While she was extremely thankful and I’ve had only positive interactions with her since, she still never admitted she was wrong.)

(I’m at a large home and garden store with my mom, buying a wedding gift for a friend. We head up to the cashier, an attractive guy around my own age. Please note that between my Asperger’s and personal issues, I have some difficulty picking up on certain social cues and whatnot.)

Sales Guy: *smiling widely* “Your total is [amount lower than I expected].”

Me: “Huh? That’s odd. I’m sorry, but are you certain that’s right? I thought it’d be closer to [actual price] with some tax.”

Mom: “Shhh!”

Me: “What? I don’t want him to get in trouble for an oversight.”

Sales Guy: *still smiling* “Nope, it’s fine; your total’s still [lower amount].”

Me: “If you’re sure…” *pays and leaves, totally baffled by the discrepancy*

(As we’re walking to our car, my mom turns to me.)

Mom: “I think that guy was flirting with you.”

Me: “Wait, seriously?!”

(I’ve never been back to that location, but whether he was just being nice or flirting, I wish I could say, “Thank you,” for the extra discount, sir, and sorry for the obliviousness!)

(I’m the goof in this story. Earlier this year, my brother died. He had lived on the other side of the state. The rest of the family made plans to come to town a few weeks later for a memorial service. My kids and I planned to drive over and meet them. Since it is over a three-hour drive away, we plan to stay the night and then go to a park nearby the next day. I make hotel arrangements that actually include park entry. Since they are discounted, they are nonrefundable. My family also texts me with different information to pass on to the funeral home. On the day of the service, I go to pick up my daughter early from school. My other daughter is already with me. Unfortunately, one daughter misjudges a step and falls badly on her knee, causing clear and serious damage. We drive straight to the hospital. While in the waiting room, I make a flurry of phone calls to let people know we’ll miss the service. My last call is to the hotel. I scroll through my phone and press the number with the proper area code, assuming it is the hotel. It is a bit noisy in the waiting room, so I do not hear what is said when they answer.)

Me: “Hello. I have reservations for today, but we’ve had a bit of an emergency. Is there any way I can reschedule for next month?”

Voice On Phone: “What?”

Me: “My daughter has dislocated her kneecap, so won’t be able to walk. Can we reschedule?”

Voice On Phone: “Who are you calling?”

Me: “[Hotel]?”

Voice On Phone: “You’ve reached the funeral home.”

Me: “Oops! Rescheduling with you would be a bad idea.”

(I did laugh, which caused a lot of odd stares in the waiting room. What must the funeral home have thought?! I should post on Not Always Hopeless that once I did call the right number, the hotel was incredibly kind and moved our reservation for us at no additional cost. We got there for my daughter’s birthday, and with her knee brace on, she played all day.)

(My husband and I are visiting an ear-nose-throat doctor for the first time because we’re having allergy problems after moving to a new area. For convenience’s sake, we’ve scheduled ourselves back-to-back and we go in together. I have kept my own last name. It is now the end of our appointments.)

Doctor: “[Last Name]… What nationality is that?”

Me: “It’s Ukrainian.”

Doctor: “Oh, man, you Ukrainians are having a rough time, huh?”

Me: “Oh, yeah, I suppose. But really I’m American.”

Doctor: “So full of strife for so long!”

Me: “Um, yeah, well, we’ve been in America for a very long time — at least three generations, probably longer. I’m really not sure.”

Doctor: “You poor Ukrainians. Tell you what; I’ll only charge you for one appointment today.”

(It was super awkward but hey, free money.)