Due to the declining quality of our Internet service, coupled with the increasing prices, my dad decides to change providers. He shops around, finds a reputable company offering a good deal on broadband, landline, and TV combined, and commits to a contract.

The router arrives in the post with a notification that changeover day will officially be the twenty-third of the month. Dad has to go out, so I’m left waiting for the technician he’s informed me is coming to do the switch-over. I think this is unnecessary as we already have all the bits and we could plug it in ourselves, particularly given the current health crisis, but what do I know? I can’t even make use of my day off by doing my college work as this is all online at the moment.

Mid-morning, we get a call confirming that the landline is now switched. Mid-afternoon, Dad comes home.

Dad: “Still no technician?”

Me: “Not yet. Did they give you any idea what time they’d be here?”

Dad: “No, just some time up to midnight.”

This is an instant red flag; no company is going to send a technician out that late.

Me: “Who told you the technician would be coming?”

Dad: “I can’t remember.”

Me: “Was it possible someone from [Electronic Retailer] when you first made inquiries said that they might need to send a technician?”

Dad: “Maybe.”

Me: “Well, what information do you have actually from [New Internet Provider]?”

He showed me the letters that came with the router where it clearly stated in big letters, “You do not need to wait in. Our technicians can access the line remotely and will notify you when it is complete.”

To top it off, my manager had messaged me that morning saying they were slammed at work and asking if I could go in and give them a hand and get the time back another day. I would have gone if I hadn’t had to wait in for the technician who was never going to come!

Our mayor and our prefect decided to make masks compulsory in all the streets during the health crisis. The administrative court found the decree too restrictive and suspended it.

On Friday, I leave work at lunchtime with a friend because she comes to eat at my house and it is the day of the new, less restrictive decree.

Me: “Oh! Oh! We don’t need masks anymore for commuting! Our streets are no longer in the decree.”

I show the article on my phone.

Friend: “That’s good. I’m too hot; I’ll take it off!”

I decide to keep my mask on anyway.

On the way, we come across two policemen.

Policeman #1: *To my friend* “The absence of a mask is a 135-euro fine!”

Friend: “It’s no longer obligatory in this street!”

Policeman #2: “What do you mean?”

I still have my phone. I find the article and show it to him.

Policeman #1: “Yes, but you have it!”

Me: “Yes, but it’s no longer an obligation!”

Policeman #2: *Rereading the article* “And the mayor says that, even in the streets where it’s no longer compulsory, he still recommends wearing it!”

Friend: “And you’re going to fine me for not taking a simple recommendation?”

The policeman finally stopped trying to give my friend the fine.

I can understand that the police are not informed; the article was published ten minutes before this at the most, and it is possible that there are communication problems between the hierarchy and the police officers in the field, but it is better to recognize when you make a mistake, rather than justify it in any way.

I am a customer at a popular coffee chain. This exchange takes place while I am waiting for my drink.

Barista: “I have a venti iced chai!”

A middle-aged man walks up to the counter and picks up the drink.

Customer: *Puzzled* “This isn’t a grande caramel latte.”

Barista: “Um, no, that’s an iced chai.”

Customer: “But I ordered a caramel latte! And I ordered a grande… This is a venti!”

Barista: “Um, well, I’m making the caramel latte right now. The chai is for someone else.”

Customer: “But… this isn’t a grande caramel latte!”

Another customer came to the counter to pick up the iced chai. The first man eventually let go of it, but he was reluctant. He did eventually get his caramel latte.

Related:
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 8
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 7
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 6
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 5
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 4

At my fast food job, the owner will occasionally splurge on pizza for everyone. 

Coworker #1: *To the owner* “Hey, I was thinking we should have some pizza today.”

Owner: “Good idea. I’ll call them up. Can someone pick it up, though?”

Coworker #2: “I’ll pick it up; just let me know when I can leave to get it.”

Work gets really busy for a while. When it slows down…

Manager: “So, does anyone remember the pizza we ordered four hours ago?”

Needless to say, we did not get pizza today but will get some tomorrow, instead. The pizza place was able to sell our pizzas to someone else so they were not out the money and they understood that we got busy. Sorry to those poor workers that had to make our pizza and got stood up, though.

I’ve gone to visit my biological mother who lives in another state, because she has just given birth to twins. I moved out when I was fifteen to live with my father after a series of conflicts where my main complaint was that she didn’t pay attention to who I was. She denies this.

A few days after I get there, we have the following exchange.

Mother: “All my kids have blue eyes. I was really hoping that one of the twins would have brown eyes like me.”

Me: *Shocked* “Mom… I have brown eyes.”

Mother: “Really?” *Looks at my eyes* “Ooh, yeah, you do. You know how some mothers gaze lovingly into their kids’ eyes after they are born? I guess not me.” *Laughs*