Reading this story reminded me a lot of what I went through when I still lived in the US, left my last full-time job, and went on disability, which entitled me to Medicare. (Until Medicare kicked in, I was on my wife’s insurance.) My wife and I worked for the same company, and when I was there, I had full-freight medical insurance; she only had bare-bones. Once I left, she signed up for full-freight insurance and listed me as her spouse/dependent.

For TWO YEARS afterward, anytime I went to a doctor’s appointment, they’d take my insurance card, scan it… and then come back and tell me:

Receptionist: “Your insurance is no longer active. You’ll have to pay full price.”

Me: “Did you look under my Social Security number or my wife’s?”

Receptionist: *Looking at me like I’m an idiot* “Yours…”

Me: “Nope. I no longer have my own insurance with [Company]; I’m the spouse/dependent on my wife’s policy. Try looking under her Social Security number.”

Receptionist: *Looking completely astonished* “Oh! There you are!”

And suddenly, I didn’t “have to pay full price” anymore. Funny how that works…

Related:
When It Comes To Insurance, It’s Never “The End Of It”

Customer: “I was here this morning and saw you had a two-for-one on my favorite dark chocolate bars! But now they’re all gone!”

We walk to where the bars should be, but unfortunately, there is a noticeable gap in the shelves where they should be.

Me: “It looks like they’ve all been sold, ma’am.”

Customer: “No! I was only here this morning! They can’t have all sold!”

Me: “When we have two-for-one deals, they can go pretty quickly, I’m afraid.”

As I am talking, I can see that another section of our candy aisle has been messed around a little, and a big box is peeking out from behind some display items. I normally wouldn’t have noticed, but the box is the exact same color as the dark chocolate the customer is after. I slide the display candy out of the way and am shocked to find our entire stock of the dark chocolate hiding there.

Me: “Oh, my goodness! Ma’am, you won’t believe it, but I have found the dark chocolate. I think another customer must have hidden them back here.”

Customer: *Dawning realization* “Oh, I think it was me that must have done that!”

Me: “You… hid all the dark chocolate?”

Customer: “Yes! I wanted to get as many as I could, but I needed to go home and get my better-quality bag! I remember now!”

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t do that. You’re denying the sale to other customers.”

She picks up the entire box of fifty or so candy bars.

Customer: “What’s the big deal? You’re still selling them all, aren’t you?”

I am under eighteen, so I am not allowed to sell alcohol. There is a sign at almost every stage of my lane that states this, but we all know customers and signs! I am checking out a customer when I see the next customer in the lane with some alcohol in their cart. I take the opportunity to save them some time.

Me: “Excuse me, sir! Excuse me! Hi. Just to let you know, I am not allowed to sell you alcohol because—”

Before I can continue, the next customer starts shouting at me, almost spitting at the mouth.

Next Customer: “Why?! Are you one of them Muslims?! If it’s soooooo against your precious religion to touch alcohol, then they shouldn’t let you be working here!”

Me: “No, sir, it’s bec—”

Next Customer: “Go back to your own country if you don’t like the way it is here!”

The customer I am currently serving turns to the raving next customer and shouts over them.

Customer: “Oh, my God, shut up! Read the f****** sign! She’s sixteen! She can’t serve you alcohol because it’s the law!”

The next customer finally sees the sign and glares at us both.

Next Customer: “Well, you should have told me!”

Customer: “She tried to, but then your bigotry started showing. Now shut up and let me check out in peace!”

The next customer was quiet and sheepish for their whole transaction. Thank goodness some customers can say what we can’t!

One of the hospitals my mom worked at was notorious for calling her on her day off to ask her to come in. The standard response at home for anyone asking for her was finding out who was calling, telling them, “Let me see if she’s here. Hold on,” and then quietly asking my mom if she wanted to speak with them.

A few years later, I’m working my first job at a fast food place, and the phone rings. It’s the owner calling for our manager. Without missing a beat, I say:

Me: “Let me see if she’s here. Hold on.”

My manager was maybe ten feet away and gave me the weirdest look, but it wasn’t until after she finished the call that I found out why.

Manager “Do you know what you said to [Owner]?”

Me: “No.”

Manager: “‘Let me see if she’s here. Hold on.’”

Me: “Oh, crap.”

I explained myself.

Manager: *Shaking her head with amusement* “Well, [Owner] told me said to her husband, ‘She had better be there!’ before I picked up. Don’t do that again.”

Lesson learned; after that, I was careful about what I said on the phone at work.

Related:
This Is Your Brain On Autopilot, Part 5
This Is Your Brain On Autopilot, Part 4
This Is Your Brain On Autopilot, Part 3
This Is Your Brain On Autopilot, Part 2
This Is Your Brain On Autopilot

I recently had to call my primary care office to schedule an appointment.

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name]. I need to schedule a four-week follow-up with [Doctor].”

After the usual checks and some typing…

Scheduler: “She has a 9:00 on Friday, August 18th.”

I don’t really want a doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning.

Me: “Does she have anything else? A tele-visit is fine.”

Scheduler: “Do you have a preference for another day or time?”

Me: “No, just not… then.”

I hear more typing.

Scheduler: “What about 2:30 on Monday the 24th?”

Me: “Um, that’s this Monday? No, it needs to be a month out.”

Scheduler: *Suddenly huffy* “Well, that’s why I asked!

I’m not sure if she forgot that she was scheduling a four-week follow-up but it still seems strange that my rejection of the Friday 9:00 am slot sent her looking days rather than weeks out. We ended up arranging it for an appropriate Tuesday afternoon.