I am a patrol police officer. I am with my partner patrolling a busy party street on Halloween, so it’s pretty crazy. So far, despite a couple of people drinking way too much, most people have been in a good mood and wearing amazing costumes, but we’re always on the lookout for things to get ugly.

A drunk and loud Marge Simpson comes running up to us.

Marge Simpson: “Help! I’ve been mugged!”

Me: “Are you injured, ma’am?”

Marge Simpson: “No! But I’ve been mugged! Follow me!”

She frantically runs down the road, and we quickly follow. She approaches the outside of a bar, where a bunch of people are smoking.

Marge Simpson: “There! They stole my bag!”

She is pointing to a literal group of pirates.

Me: “Which one, ma’am?”

Marge Simpson: “Jack Sparrow!”

There are about four reasonable impersonations of Jack Sparrow among the group, but thankfully, one of them walks up to us.

Jack Sparrow: “We told you, lady, we don’t have your d*** bag! Someone else must have taken it!”

Me: “What does your bag look like, ma’am?”

Marge Simpson: “It’s an expensive blue leather bag! It’s Gucci! Gucci!“

Just then, Jack Sparrow and I see the same thing at the same time and lock eyes.

Jack Sparrow: “Your bag is in your hair, you stupid woman!”

Marge Simpson: “What?!”

Me: “There is a bag fitting your description… uh… currently positioned securely inside your wig.”

She reaches above her head and grabs the bag, and her eyes widen with shock. She then turns around and starts screeching at a group of costumed women.

Marge Simpson: “Which one of you b****es put my bag in my hair?!”

She storms off and I am left standing there with Jack Sparrow.

Me: “Has she been bothering you tonight?”

Jack Sparrow: “A little, nothing too bad. She just saw a bunch of pirates and assumed.”

Me: “Well… you take care, then.”

Jack Sparrow: “This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Gotta love Halloween!

I recently had an issue with my phone and Internet. The phone was operational but garbled with static, which in turn tricked my voicemail into thinking callers were leaving messages. As for my Internet, my speed was down considerably, and, according to the lights on my modem, the DSL connection would disappear every dozen minutes or so.

Once I convinced my ISP to send a technician, I got the basic line:

ISP: “Please ensure that someone is home between [Appointment Times] so our technician can have access to the property.”

Despite this warning, the technician never actually came to the door. Whoever it was worked outside on the lines the entire time and never even approached the door or picked up the phone to call us, effectively meaning I wasted a whole day for a meeting this person decided was unnecessary. I find this particularly egregious because at one point the technician packed up and left despite my having lost what little service I had. I gave the benefit of the doubt, and I was rewarded with a return; evidently, there was something related to the job that had to be done elsewhere. And since I got an email for a survey, I made sure to tell the ISP exactly how I felt. Thankfully, the problem was solved. For a month.

One month later, the phone was nothing but static with no hidden dial tone. Though the Internet’s speed was unaffected, the modem still said the DSL connection was dropping every dozen or so minutes. Once again, I got someone out after much manipulation. Once again, I got the line:

ISP: “Please ensure someone is home between [Appointment Times] so our technician can have access to the property.”

Once again, the technician never came to the door or called us. Once again, the technician packed up and left when nothing worked. Once again, I made sure the ISP understood that this was unacceptable. Once again, though, it was fixed. And once again, it only lasted a month.

This third time, nothing worked. At all. The phone didn’t even have static; it was just dead air. And the DSL connection was now so bad that it couldn’t be retained for more than a few seconds out of a dozen minutes. So, for the third time, I had to call my ISP. For the third time, I got the line:

ISP: “Please ensure someone is home between [Appointment Times] so our technician can have access to the property.”

However, due to how bad the situation had gotten, this time I turned my modem off and unplugged it from everything — the electrical socket, the phone line, and the computer. Also different this time, the technician actually came to the door and asked me to explain the situation.

Technician: “If the service is that bad, the lines are probably shorted out. The weather or an animal might be messing up the wiring. And since it’s been a recurring problem, I’m going replace the whole line and see if we need to get an exterminate out here.”

Later on, he came back to the door.

Technician: “I think I’ve got it set up. I just need to head back to the station to reset it, and then I’ll be back to check the connection strength. It’ll probably be an hour.”

True to his word, he came back within the hour.

Technician: “The outside lines say the connection’s strong — about what we can get in the area. I just need to check the inside.”

The phone worked again, with no sound effects. Then, we got to the modem. Once it was hooked back up, I powered it up. It took considerably longer than normal for my modem to power up and attempt to make a DSL connection. I made sure to mention this, just in case it was important.

Technician: “Wait. ‘Never that slow’? You’re sure?”

Me: “Absolutely. It normally tries to establish a DSL connection within three seconds.”

This was easily three times that.

Technician: “Hang on a minute.”

While my connection established, he pulled out his phone and called (I assume) his supervisor.

Technician: “This is [Technician], ID [number]. Can I have a work history for [my address] under account [My Name]?” *Pauses* “Okay, thank you.” *Hangs up* “Unplug your modem.”

Me: *Doing so* “What’s up?”

Technician: “The two guys who were here before also replaced your lines. From that and seeing your modem power up, I think the short is in your modem. The short’s taking the electricity from the outlet and sending it across the phone lines and frying them, which is also why it’s so slow to power up. If we replace the modem, the problem should disappear.”

Since I got my modem from the ISP, I gave it to the technician and he gave me a fresh one from his van. The new one powered up much more quickly, like my old one did before. After he confirmed that my Internet connection was back and up to speed, he marked my job done and went to his next one. And when that survey came in, I gave him a glowing review.

It’s been three months since that last technician came to fix my problems, and my lines haven’t yet shorted out. As such, I must conclude that his theory was correct. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why the companies ask you to stay home to greet their employees, and why it is so important for their employees to actually communicate with the clients.

A woman comes in after closing by a few minutes. I run the shop myself in the evenings and close up.

Customer: “I only need some copies and a fax. It shouldn’t take too long.”

I go to make her some copies, but she pushes me out of the way.

Customer: “You’re doing it wrong. You need to let me do it because I’ve done this all my life.”

I point out our sign that reads, “Please let the employees make your copies. You will be charged for any mistakes you make.”

Customer: “I want to do it my way.”

I step back and let her make her copies. I bring her copied papers to the fax machine behind the desk to be faxed. Even though we have a sign that asks customers not to come behind the desk, she follows me and decides to be a helicopter for a few minutes.

The fax line is busy, so I let her know and wait for the line to clear. I place the papers on the desk during this time while I wait.

Once I decide to try sending the fax again, I turn around and the papers are gone.

Me: “Do you have the papers?”

Customer: “I didn’t touch them.”

I look through all the papers on the back desk and the shelves, even though they have no reason to be in there. I am TEARING THE PLACE APART looking for these d*** papers.

Customer: *Freaking out* “Those papers have credit card numbers, bank account numbers, and my social security number on them! I’m going to have to close all of my accounts, and my identity has probably already been stolen!”

I am freaking out because I will for sure get fired over this. I am ready to cry.

Customer: “I’ll check my purse just in case, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t pick them up.”

She pulls out some folded-up papers. It’s those g**d*** papers! She promptly apologizes profusely, and I fax her papers. I total her up to $2.73. She hands over her card.

Me: “We don’t take cards for amounts under $5.”

She went to her car to get some change and came back with a box. The box was full of pennies. She grabbed a few handfuls, more than what she needed, and put them in a box out of which we sold chocolate for a fundraiser. She didn’t even put them in my hands.

She gave me 302 pennies! My boss let me know the next day that a lady had called and complained about my poor behavior toward her. I told him that she was the reason the pennies were taking up three sections in the register.

Related:
A Penny Dreadful, Part 3
A Penny Dreadful, Part 2
A Penny Dreadful

I have arrived in the emergency room via ambulance. After I’m registered and a nurse hooks me up to monitoring equipment, the doctor comes in, sits down, and pulls up my chart on a computer. He does not look at me or my wife.

Doctor: “So, we’re in for some wonky vitals today? Your blood pressure and heart rate are elevated.”

Me: “Yes. It happens sometimes—”

Doctor: “Uh-huh. And I see here you’re diagnosed with anxiety?”

Me: “Yes, but—”

Doctor: “Sounds like you’re having a panic attack. But don’t worry; we’ll get you some anti-anxiety medication and that should help you feel much better.”

Me: “This has happened before and—”

Doctor: “It’s fairly common; don’t worry. Panic attacks can hit fast and feel awful, but you’ll feel better once we get you calmed down.”

Me: “One question.”

Doctor: “Yes?”

Me: “What are we going to do about the fact that I’m turning blue?”

Startled, the doctor FINALLY looked at me. Despite my oxygen levels being good, my lips and fingernails were quite literally blue and my heart rate was dangerously high, not simply “elevated”.

I know a high heart rate and a history of anxiety usually go together, but dismissing my symptoms without even looking at me or the notes from the EMTs was enough for me to ask for another doctor.

Luckily, the second doctor was more open to turning blue being a symptom of something other than anxiety and managed to get me back to the correct color and heart rate, and they even got me set up with a specialist to try and figure out the cause.

I work for a big pharmacist as a delivery driver for urgent medications. In front of the shop, only our working cars are allowed. At the moment, there is construction, so we have to drive further down the street where usually no cars are allowed.

I park in front of a shop and a lady who works there comes out.

Lady: “You cannot park here.”

Me: “I know, but because of the construction, we are allowed today.”

Lady: “But you cannot park your private car here. There is parking space down the street.”

Me: “It’s not my private car; I have a license for parking here.”

Lady: “Even I’m not allowed to park my private car here!”

Me: “That’s right, but I am working for the pharmacist right there, so we are allowed to park here.”

Lady: “Only the pharmacist is allowed to park here. Move your car or I’ll call the police!”

I point at the big-a** special parking license on my windshield.

Me: “That’s what I just said; I am working for the pharmacist.”

Lady: “So, this is not your private car? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?! You’re wasting my time!” *Storms off*