(My coworker is taking orders for the drive-thru and a customer comes through.)

Coworker: “Welcome to [Coffee Shop]. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “I want a chicken wrap.”

Coworker: “What wrap would you like?”

Customer: “A chicken wrap.”

Coworker: “What type of wrap would you like?”

Customer: “Chipotle chicken wrap.”

Coworker: “With the crispy chicken or the grilled?”

Customer: “Chipotle wrap.”

Coworker: *getting annoyed* “With the grilled or the crispy chicken?”

Customer: *mumbles something about potato wedges*

Coworker: *getting louder and more annoyed, though still maintaining a chipper customer service voice* “Would you like the grilled chicken or the crispy? I need to know what kind of chicken you would like to continue the order.”

Customer: “Also potato wedges.”

Coworker: *snapping* “Do you want the grilled or the crispy chicken, or I can decide for you?!”

Customer: *mumbles something* “Crispy.”

Coworker: *back to chipper voice* “Great! Crispy chicken. Would you like anything else?”

(The customer finishes their order without incident.)

Coworker: “All right, that will be [total] at the window.” *turns around to face me* “Oh, my God! Did anybody hear that?”

Me: “I just heard you kept talking about what chicken they wanted.”

Coworker: “That was infuriating.”

(I’m going into the pizza place to pick up the pizza my mother ordered for carryout. I have the money to pay for it in my hand.)

Employee: “Hello. You picking up?”

Me: “Hi. Yes, I am.”

Employee: “All right. Name, please?”

Me: “[My Name].”

(The employee goes and picks up the pizza, which HAS the receipt poking out of the box, and hands it to me.)

Employee: “Okay, have a nice weekend!”

Me: *confused as I hold the cash up* “Uh, don’t you want me to pay for this?”

Employee: *deer in headlights look* “Oh, my God. You have no idea how glad I am that you pointed that out.”

Me: *hands him the money* “Heh. Yeah, and I had the receipt, too.”

Employee: “Yeah, thanks for pointing that out to me. I really appreciate that. Have a nice night!”

Me: “Thanks. You, too!”

(I legit could’ve walked out of there with free pizza with a receipt as legal “proof” saying I’d paid. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t at least think about it, I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t want free pizza? That said, I figured he might get in trouble for it.)

(I am a third-grade teacher on recess duty monitoring the students when I notice one of my “behavior problem” students walk in front of a little girl swinging on the swings and almost get hit. I go to stand directly in front of him for the following interaction.)

Me: “[Student], please come here.”

Student: *walks up to me but stops a few feet away*

Me: “I need you to be careful and watch where you are going. You almost–”

(During this, he begins to wander off, and he wanders in front of the little girl swinging and gets creamed. She laid him out flat on the ground.)

Little Girl: *continues swinging*

Me: *watching student lay on the ground, rolling a bit* “Well, I told you to watch where you are going. I don’t really feel sorry for you. Shake it off; you’re okay.”

Student: *gets up and limps for a few minutes before going back to play*

(I think the little girl might have knocked some sense into him because after that incident he hasn’t disrupted my class once.)

(I’m just having one of those “glitch in the Matrix” weeks, where weird things keep happening out of the blue. This is just one example. I work in a vet clinic. It’s Tuesday evening. I’m the only staff member still at work, and we’re less than an hour from closing. The vet has gone to her other office for the evening, and we’re only still open for pickup — meds, patients, etc. The door opens and a woman walks in.)

Me: “Hi. How can I help you?”

Woman: *smiles confidently at me* “Oh, hello. I am here with my chicken.”

Me: *sure I heard wrong since we don’t treat livestock* “I’m sorry, your chicken?”

Woman: “Yes. She is sick.”

Me: “I apologize, but we don’t see livestock here. And the vet is not here currently. But you may want to try [Larger Emergency Vet Hospital]; I believe they see livestock. I can give you their information if you need it—”

Woman: *suddenly enraged, her face turning violently red* “NO! I was told you see chickens!”

Me: “Ma’am, I apologize, but we, unfortunately, do not have a vet who treats livestock here. I recommend trying to see if [Larger Emergency Vet Hospital] is able to see her.”

(Getting redder by the moment, she shoves the basket with her chicken in it in my face; she’d had it under the raised counter where I couldn’t see it.)

Woman: “YOU NEED TO SEE MY CHICKEN NOW! SHE IS SICK!”

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing I can do. Even if my vet was here — unfortunately, she isn’t right now — she doesn’t treat chickens. Other than referring you elsewhere, I can’t help you.”

(She shoves her chicken in my face again. It is getting increasingly upset each time the owner violently swings her basket into my face.)

Woman: “YOU ARE WRONG! I WAS TOLD YOU CAN SEE CHICKENS!”

(I open my mouth to repeat everything again when the woman abruptly makes a frustrated screech to cut me off. Clearly aware she’s not going to get her way, she stomps out. Then, from the hallway, I hear:)

Woman: “THIS PLACE HATES CHICKENS!”

(I throw my back out at work. I am a female in my 20s. My line manager, who is male and around my age, gives me a ride to the ER and helps me in as I am in too much pain to walk. We are both in uniform. We speak to a doctor and explain exactly what happened, and he orders an x-ray. Afterward, my manager helps me into a cubicle and the doctor comes back in. I am still in a hospital gown from the x-ray.)

Doctor: “You’ve torn some ligaments. You’ll need to rest for two weeks to let them start to heal. I’ll get you some pain relief, and then you can go home.”

(He leaves and comes back a few minutes later.)

Doctor: “I know you’ve had an x-ray, but I have to ask. Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

Me: “No, none.”

Doctor: “Are you sure?”

(My manager looks away uncomfortably.)

Me: “I’m certain I’m not pregnant.”

Doctor: “Okay, this will help for a few hours, and I’ll also give you a prescription for some painkillers.” *whips out a syringe*

Me: “Okaaay…”

Doctor: *reaching for my gown* “This needs to go in your buttock, so if you’ll turn around…”

Manager: “I’ll just be outside!” *turns bright red and literally leaps through the curtains*

Doctor: “Isn’t that your husband?”

Me: “No, that’s my boss!”

Doctor: “Maybe I should have asked that first…”