My doctor writes me [Prescription #1] in late June, which I fill at [Pharmacy #1]. [Prescription #1] has zero pre-approved refills. I’m also referred to a specialist to get [Prescription #2]. My doctor later sends an email passing my care entirely on to the specialist (which I’m okay with).

I have my first appointment with the specialist in mid-September, where we discuss her taking over [Prescription #1]. She does ask, but I’m not due for a refill at the time so we don’t do one. Due to convenience and a tight schedule that day, I fill [Prescription #2] at [Pharmacy #2], another branch of the same chain as [Pharmacy #1]. [Prescription #2] has three pre-approved refills.

About six weeks later, I’m due for the refill on [Prescription #1]. I call the specialist’s office to ask about the process. I’m told to just have [Pharmacy #1] fax over the request.

I call [Pharmacy #1] and give them the fax number for the specialist. It slips my mind for a couple of weeks until I get an alert saying it’s delayed.

I don’t want to panic, so I wait a few days to see if it will un-delay itself. I’m still good for meds. After a week with no change, I call [Pharmacy #1]. It’s now three weeks since I put in the refill request.

[Pharmacy #1] simply hasn’t heard back from the specialist, despite sending multiple faxes. I explain the whole situation about the doctor switch, and they confirm that they sent the faxes to the correct specialist. They send another fax while we’re on the call.

The next day, I call the specialist’s office to see if they have any information on the delay. I explain the multiple faxes and the doctor switch, and they inform me they’ve only received the fax from yesterday.

I’m told it’s a two-week turnaround. After the fortnight is up, [Pharmacy #1] still hasn’t heard from the specialist. I call the specialist, and I’m told again to just have [Pharmacy #1] fax it over. I tell them I won’t have any meds left to keep waiting like this. I’m brushed off and told that the pharmacy can extend it at their own discretion 

I call [Pharmacy #1] and have them extend the prescription. I’m told the extension will be for one month, which will get me to my next specialist visit with a few days to spare

I pick up the extension, and it’s only for two weeks. I call the specialist one more time, and I now learn that they returned the paperwork two days after receiving that lone fax weeks prior.

I get into another fortnight of musical faxes and another pharmacy extension. In the midst of this chaos, I now need to refill [Prescription #2].

I call [Pharmacy #2], and the refill on [Prescription #2] is ready in two days. I stop in to pick it up.

Me: “Hi. I’m here to pick up [Prescription #2] for [My Name], please.”

The pharmacist confirms my information.

Pharmacist: “Okay… It looks like there’s a second one for you here, as well.” 

Guess where [Prescription #1] ended up?

In the end, I got my meds, and having them at the same pharmacy makes sense, but I don’t know how nobody — me included — thought to check which pharmacy the specialist’s office sent the paperwork to.

It’s an election year in Sweden. For the previous elections, the library where I work has been an early voting station. Due to an increase in early voters, the station has outgrown the library space. The new early voting station is in the same building as the library, right next door to us. There are numerous signs and arrows and election workers in bright vests present to show the way. Still…

Someone walks up to my library information desk.

Patron: “Hi, I’m here to vote.”

Me: “Early voting is next door this year. Just follow the signs outside or ask someone wearing a vest and they will help you.”

Patron: “But I’ve always voted in the library before.”

Me: “We don’t have enough space anymore. Go next door and they will help you.”

Patron: “Are you sure? Last election, I came here to vote.”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure. Turn around, go out the door, and turn left. You will find the early voting station right next to us.”

The person looks doubtful but eventually leaves. The next person in line steps up to the counter.

Next Patron: “Hi, I want to vote.”

This is going to be a loooong three weeks.

I am the manager of a grooming salon within a pet store. Because we are short-staffed, the salon is closed on Mondays.

On Tuesday morning, I arrive to an email from the corporate office informing me that I need to contact an irate customer. She claims that she had an appointment scheduled for that Monday and the salon was empty when she arrived. This is impossible as Mondays are blocked off and scheduling simply isn’t available when no employees are on the books.

I pull up all of her appointment information and give her a call.

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name] from [Pet Salon]. I had a message about an issue with your appointment?”

The next ten minutes are a profanity-laden barrage as she screams about how incompetent my employees and I are. How dare we schedule an appointment for her and not arrive to groom Fluffy?! And so on.

I allow her to continue uninterrupted until she tires herself out.

Me: “I see here we had Fluffy down for an appointment on the twenty-third.”

Client: “Yes, yesterday, Monday the twenty-third, you stupid b****!”

Me: “Ma’am, yesterday was the twenty-first. Wednesday is the twenty-third.”

Client: “Yesterday was the twenty-third, you stupid little…”

Her rant trails off as she clearly pulls her phone down from her face to check the calendar app on her phone. Then, suddenly, she hangs up, presumably as she realizes that the twenty-third is, in fact, this Wednesday and that she spent ten minutes screaming and cursing at me because of her own incompetence.

I call back.

Me: “Oh, no, it seems like we got disconnected!”

She immediately hung up again. I marked a note on the incident report from corporate that the issue remained unresolved, as the customer had ended the phone call. I checked back later that day to see that the district manager had also contacted her, only to be immediately hung up on, as well.

My son and I stop at a mostly-empty fast food place one morning to get food. He orders, and then it’s my turn. 

Me: “May I have a number nine, medium, with no meat, please?”

Cashier: “Ham, bacon, or sausage?”

Me: “No meat.”

Cashier: “Small, medium, or large?”

Me: “Medium.”

I’m thinking, “Seriously?”

She tells me the total and I pay it with my card. The machine asks if I want to leave a tip, and I hit the “no” button. 

Cashier: “I think you hit the wrong button by mistake. Do you want me to fix that?”

Me: “No. I didn’t. I’m good. May I have our drink cups, please?”

I am a female engineer with a fairly androgynous name; let’s call me “Sam”. After twenty years with the same company, I leave to work for a startup. Two years later, the startup fails. My old boss hears I’m looking for work and offers me a job.

My first day back is interesting. A recent hire comes to ask a question. We’ll call him [New Guy].

New Guy: “I don’t know why, but my boss told me to ask you if we have [obscure piece of equipment].”

Me: “We do. Let me show you. Don’t forget to dry your sample before running the instrument. It will catch fire if it runs with a wet sample.”

New Guy: “Wow! Thanks. I didn’t understand why he told me to ask you, but I guess it’s your name.”

Me: “My name?”

New Guy: “Yeah, before I started here, there was a guy named Sam. He knew everything because he had been here so long. For a long time, people kept saying how much they missed him. I heard he’s coming back, so we’ll have two Sams.”

Me: “I am Sam.”

New Guy: “Yeah, but this is Sam. He knows everything.”

Due to circumstances, my boss and I need to leave the building. That leaves [New Guy] alone, which should be fine.

I return to find the building filled with smoke, the doors open, alarms blaring, and [New Guy] standing in the parking lot with the local fire chief.

Me: “What happened?”

New Guy: “I started running my sample and it started to smoke. I unplugged it, but it was still burning, so I pulled the alarm and ran outside.”

I quickly confer with the chief, don the appropriate breathing apparatus, and run inside to grab the equipment. We drag it into the middle of the parking lot and disable the alarm.

New Guy: “Wow! When Sam gets here, he’s going to be impressed. That sounds like something he would do.”

Me: “Again, I am Sam. I used to work here and came back.”

New Guy: “No, this is a different Sam.”

I give up and deal with the fire chief. The engines arrive and begin to air out the building. My boss returns from his meeting as they are removing the fans.

Boss: “What happened?”

Me: “Looks like [New Guy] didn’t dry the sample enough, and the equipment overheated and caught fire.”

New Guy: “And this Sam dragged the equipment into the parking lot. Wait until the Sam hears.”

Boss: “This is Sam.”

New Guy: “But she’s a girl.”

And that’s how [New Guy] ended up talking to Human Resources and Safety at the same time.