In November, I attended a convention in Tucson, Arizona. Back in October, just before the cutoff date, I reserved two nights at the hotel and gave the code for the convention rate. They didn’t need a card number for the reservation, which I thought was odd, but oh, well.

I went up to the desk during the convention and told the clerk I had a reservation.

Clerk: “I don’t see anything here.”

Then, he poked around for a minute.

Clerk: “Here it is. The tenth and eleventh of October, not November.”

Me: “What? I specifically gave the TUSCON50 code to get the cheaper rate.”

Clerk: “Yup, I see that here, and at the convention rate. I don’t know what they were thinking.”

Luckily, they were only about a third filled, even with the convention, so I got a room — even at the convention rate.

I was on the phone with a particularly difficult client, trying to assist them with our CMS (Content Management System). Merely choosing colors was agony with this person, as they couldn’t tell the difference between orange and purple, yet they insisted they were not color blind by any measure.

Today was something else, though.

Me: “In order to access the content management system, I need you to open your web browser. Once it’s open, you can type the address into the URL bar.”

Client: “Okay, it’s open… but where is this bar?”

Me: “There should be a blank bar at the top of your browser window where you can input a web address.”

Client: “I know that. But where is this bar? I opened my browser and there is no bar.”

Me: “There should be a section below your ‘File’, ‘Edit’, ‘View’, and ‘Window’ options bar on your browser that allows you to type in addresses and surf the web.”

Client: “Listen. I have no idea what you are talking about! There is no bar on my screen. I don’t see any place for a web address.”

Me: “What options are at the top of your browser?”

Client: “‘File’, ‘Edit’, ‘Format’, ‘Table’, a copy and paste button, my fonts… None of this URL business!”

Me: “Wait, are you in Microsoft Word?”

Client: “Yeah, why?”

A father is in the store with his young son, maybe five or six. The father is engrossed with something on his phone while his son, bored out of his mind by the looks of things, starts trying to climb the shelves.

As soon as I realize the father is not about to notice, I head on over. I’m about forty feet away, so I start shouting as I make my way. 

Me: “Sir… Sir, your son!”

Father: *Looking at his phone* “He’s fine.”

Me: “Sir, that’s dangerous! He could injure himself.”

He looks at me and then back at his phone, but he’s still not looking at his son.

Father: “He’s fine. He’s right next to me.”

Me: “Technically correct, and about a foot above you.” 

The father snaps out of his doom-scrolling and looks down to where his son was, then over at the shelves, and then eventually… up.

Son: “Dad, look! I’m Spider-Man!”

The father leaps forward and grabs his son, safely carrying him down to the ground in time for my arrival.

Father: *Looking at me* “Shut up. No need to say it.” *To his son* “We’re going.”

He grabs his son and starts storming out of the store.

Son: “That was so cool! Mom never lets me play Spider-Man!”

I used to have a coworker who was a nice lady but a little naïve and sometimes slow on the uptake. One morning, I came into work yawning.

Me: “I didn’t sleep well last night. [Husband] was snoring, and it kept me awake.”

Coworker: “Was he lying on his back? That often causes snoring.”

Me: “Yes.”

Coworker: “Then there’s a simple solution to that. Just attach something to the back of his pyjamas, like a tennis ball. That way, when he tries to flip onto his back, it’ll be uncomfortable.”

Me: “Uh… thanks, [Coworker].”

She noticed my hesitation and got a little defensive.

Coworker: “Seriously! My mum did that to my dad. Problem solved! Why don’t you want to try it?”

Me: “It won’t work for my husband.”

Coworker: “Why not?”

I was thinking, “Why did I start this conversation?”

Me: “He, um, doesn’t wear pyjamas.”

Coworker: “Huh? Everyone wears pyjamas!”

Me: “He doesn’t.”

Neither do I, but I wasn’t about to say that.

Coworker: *Uncomprehending* “I don’t understand. If he doesn’t wear pyjamas to bed, what does he wear?”

Me: “…”

Comprehension finally dawned. She went beet-red and changed the subject.

One week later:

Coworker: “You seem tired today.”

Me: “Yeah, my husband was snoring again.”

Coworker: “I bet he was sleeping on his back. You know what you should do? Attach something to the back of his pyjamas, like a tennis ball!”

Me: *Sighs*

I work at a car dealership as a porter. We close at 9:00 pm. Thirty minutes before closing, I see a dude pull up in a Porsche. He gets out of his car, takes two steps, turns around, and throws his hands up in frustration. 

Me: *To myself* “He’s locked his keys in the car.”

He comes into the dealership looking agitated and marches up to another porter.

Customer: “Get me a slim Jim.”

Porter: “We can’t lend those out by law.”

Customer: “Get me a slim Jim! I don’t care!”

Me: *Intervening* “Sign a waiver that you won’t hold us responsible for any damage you make to your car, and you got a deal.” 

He does so, and we watch him go at his car for forty minutes with no luck. Ten minutes after closing, I head on out.

Me: “We need that slim Jim back.”

Customer: “But I need to get back into my car!” 

I took a look at the situation up close for the first time. I obliged him by reaching into the open moonroof and handing his keys to him.