(I’m a thirty-year-old woman who has always looked young for my age. I’ve recently moved to a small town and am enjoying the more personal, casual service at local businesses. I go to make a deposit at the bank and simply give them my name.)

Teller: “Sure thing. Will that be all today?”

Me: “Yep, thank you.” *turns to go*

Teller: *after I’ve taken three steps away* “By the way, do you want that to go in your parents’ account?”

Me: *deer-in-the-headlights look* “My… parents live overseas.”

(And that’s how I learned that I share a name with a local teenager. I always gave my account number after that.)

(We have had our cat, Fritz, since he was a tiny kitten, and he’s always seen the same vet. One day, when Fritz is around eight years old, he starts spraying urine against furniture instead of going in his box. Knowing that this could be a symptom of something serious – besides being annoying and gross – I promptly make an appointment for him to see his vet.)

Vet: “Well, we’ve examined his urine for crystals, and he doesn’t have any. That can mean only one thing.” *stares at me accusingly*

Me: *after an expectant pause* “Yes?”

Vet: “You need to get him neutered. Honestly, I don’t know why you haven’t done so yet. He’s eight years old; he should have been neutered years ago.”

Me: “But–”

Vet: “No, I’m serious. This sort of spraying activity is very common in an unneutered male, and–”

Me: “But he is neutered.”

Vet: “What?”

Me: “In fact, you’re the one who did it. We had it done right after we got him from the Humane Society. It should be in his file.”

Vet: *looks at the start of the file* “Oh.”

Me: “So, something else must be causing this behaviour, right?”

Vet: *still processing the fact that he was wrong about Fritz not being fixed* “Well… are there any new cats in the neighbourhood?”

Me: “Come to think of it, yes. Our neighbour across the back lane just got a new cat. Fritz sometimes sees him through the window and hisses at him.”

Vet: “Well, there you go.” *looks at me triumphantly*

Me: “Um, what do you mean?”

Vet: “Fritz is antagonized by that new cat. He’s spraying to assert his dominance in his own home.”

Me: “Okay, so… What do I do?”

Vet: “Do? There’s nothing you can do. Apart from moving, that is!” *laughs*

(Very helpful. I started looking for a new vet after that.)

(Professors are often absent-minded, but this one is exceptional. I am working in the math office when he comes in and yells at the secretary.)

Professor: “[Secretary], where’s my package? It was supposed to be here yesterday.”

Secretary: “I’m not sure, Dr. [Professor]. Let me call and trace it.”

Professor: “Do it immediately. I need that at once.”

(She called the company and the shipper. It took a few calls, but finally, she found that it had been delivered a day early and had been sitting on his desk. Since this was not the first time he had yelled and complained for no reason, she took some shipping tape and hung the package across his office doorway at eye level and covered it with orange and yellow feathers. That afternoon, he returned, ducked under the package, sat at his desk, and called the secretary to ask if she found his package yet.)

(When I go to start my shift, we are out of the food item literally in the name of the restaurant, so we put a sign on the door. As most people don’t read signs, we also tell everyone about it at the hostess stand. I have many interactions with incredulous people throughout the shift, but this one restores my faith in humanity. A family with two kids about ten to twelve comes in.)

Me: “Hi! Just so you guys know we’re out of [food item], as well as some other stuff…”

Parent: “Whaaaaat? Really?”

Kid: “Yeah, didn’t you read the sign, Mom?”

Me: *internally* “OH, MY GOD! NEVER CHANGE, CHILD! NEVER, EVER CHANGE!”

(They left, like most people, but it’s amazing that a kid had a better ability to read signs than most of the adults who came through that evening!)

A few months after finishing my degree, I decide to apply to some seasonal retail positions to help pay the bills while looking for more permanent work. One well-known department store invites me for a phone interview. It goes very well, and the employee offers me a 20- to 25-hour-per-week sales position on the spot.

When we talk about availability, she tells me that the regional store I’ll be working in isn’t asking seasonal workers in this role to come in on Thanksgiving or Christmas Day; as long as I can come in on Black Friday and December 26, that’s fine. In fact, if I’ll be traveling, she can even make a note on my file that I want to work later shifts on those days! I was hoping to visit family a few hours away on Thanksgiving, so I say that’s perfect, and she puts me down as available anytime between ten am and midnight on Black Friday. I also tell her that, for religious reasons, I would prefer not to work Saturday mornings but can work every Sunday and Saturday afternoons if needed, and she assures me that is fine and she will make a note of that, too.

The training itself consists of six hours of watching instructional videos, 50 minutes of silently watching a busy cashier handle transactions without talking to me, and 10 minutes of the cashier actually training me. I am a little nervous that I won’t be prepared for the job, but as it turns out, I don’t have to worry.

Schedules are handled in an online system. When I am getting set up, I notice that Saturdays are listed as a “must work” with no option for me to make myself unavailable, even for a few hours. I ask one of the office managers and she says not to worry, and that once I am assigned to a manager, they will be able to alter it. I will “definitely” have shifts on the schedule before Thanksgiving — about three weeks away, at this point — and when I arrive for my shifts I will be assigned a manager.

A week goes by. The website says that all employees should now be scheduled for their entire holiday season, but my calendar is still blank. I call the office manager and she says the website was wrong; schedules would be up by Tuesday, and the schedule will only cover the next two weeks. On Thursday, the schedule goes up. I am scheduled for only one shift in two weeks, and it starts at four pm Thanksgiving Day. There is supposed to be an option for me to advertise the shift for other employees to pick up, but it isn’t working. I call the office manager again and explain the mixup. She says, again, that more shifts will definitely be added to my schedule, and that the option to swap shifts only comes up one week before the date.

The Friday before Thanksgiving, I still can’t swap that shift and my “20- to 25-hour-a-week” job still has me scheduled for only eight hours in two weeks. Annoyed, I call the office and tell the second office manager — the one who answers the call — that I would like to quit effective immediately. She asks for my name, which I give, and the name of my manager. I tell her I never got one, and she says, “Okay, thank you,” and hangs up.

Five weeks later, I get a call from the original office manager. She says, “Hi, [My Name]. Are you available to pick up a shift this week?” When I tell her that I quit over a month ago, she asks if I signed any paperwork. I tell her no one ever asked me to. She says, “Okay, thank you,” and hangs up.

But hey, I made $48 from my training shifts that they never asked me to pay back, so I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time?