(While my enormously large mountain dog looks like an actual teddy bear and is extremely gentle and well-behaved, he likes his personal space and doesn’t care for strangers’ attention. Therefore, I never take him to public places if I can avoid it. On this day, however, I am forced to take a two-hour train ride with him. In an effort to get strangers to keep their distance, I dress my dog in his custom yellow harness that has the words, “DO NOT TOUCH,” written on it in large black letters. Besides that, he has a yellow ribbon – international symbol for “I need space” – tied to his leash. At the train station, we wait calmly in the furthest corner of the platform until the coast is clear. As we make our way toward the pet car, I see faces in a different car pressed against the window, staring at us. I ignore it, get in, and find our designated seats: a normal aisle seat for me, and a low platform where the window seat would normally be for the dog. I spread the dog’s blanket on his seat, and he settles down with his head on my lap. I casually stroke his ears, and as I wait for the ticket inspector, I rest my eyes for a moment. Out of nowhere, I feel air move around me, and the warm weight of my dog’s head on my lap is suddenly gone. I open my eyes to see a mother with two young children, one of who is eagerly trying to reach the dog over my lap.)

Me: *blocking the access to the dog much as I can with my body* “Whoa, hey! Don’t do that.”

Strange Mother: “My kids want to pet the dog.”

Me: “Sorry, he doesn’t like to be touched by str—”

Strange Mother: *scoffs* “That’s not true. I saw you petting him just now.”

Me: “As I was saying, he doesn’t like to be approached or touched by strangers. I’m sure you can see the large text on his harness and that he has pulled as far away from you as possible.”

Strange Mother: “Nonsense. All dogs like to be petted. I don’t understand why you’re being like this. My kids have a long trip ahead of them! Just let them pet the dog already!”

Me: *thinking to myself, “Are you for real?!” but trying to avoid a conflict and making a scene* “He does not want strangers to touch him. Many dogs don’t. I’m afraid you’ll need to find something else to do to pass the time.”

Strange Child: “Muuuuum, I want to cuddle the doggy!”

Me: “Sorry, sweetie, you can’t.”

Strange Mother: ”Yes, you can. Just call for the dog like this.”

(The mother suddenly lunges at my dog, almost punching me in the process, and starts going, “Here, doggy, doggy,” aggressively at him. The dog lets out a startled growl. The mother shrieks and jumps back. Her children start crying. Everyone is now staring at us.)

Me: *in complete disbelief* “What the h*** are you doing?”

Strange Mother: “The dog tried to bite me!”

Me: “He certainly did not.”

Strange Mother: “Liar! That dog is vicious! How could you bring such a beast on public transport?!”

Me: *getting mad despite myself* “Are you kidding me? The dog was minding his own business when you came here, all entitled, acting like he is some toy for your kids to play with. I asked you way more nicely than you deserved to leave him be. You basically assaulted us both, and now you think you’re the victim because you got growled at? Most other dogs would have taken a bite out of you for doing something that stupid!”

Strange Mother: “You can’t talk to me like that!”

Me: “I can, and I will. You need to leave.”

(The mother threw a few insults at me, and then finally grabbed her wailing children and left the car. It took a good ten minutes of distractions and several treats for my dog to stop panting anxiously and to calm down, but thankfully the rest of our journey was uneventful. I’d had my share of people overly eager to pet my dog before, but never someone who wouldn’t take a polite no for an answer. Even though my dog seems unscarred by the incident, these days I am even more reluctant to take him out in public. The thing that gets me the most about the whole thing, though, is the idea that a mother would insist on letting her small children approach a large, unfamiliar dog when specifically warned the dog was not friendly.)

(At the store where I work, a few of the PIN-pad readers have broken and won’t show the asterisks when debit-users type in their PINs, but the PINs still go through. I have just explained this to a woman when this happens.)

Me: “Will that be debit or credit?”

Customer: “Debit.”

Me: “All right. Just go ahead and type in your PIN; the symbols won’t show up, but it is going through.”

(The customer starts typing in her PIN and then gets a very confused look on her face.)

Customer: “It’s not working.”

Me: “Oh, no, the symbols just aren’t showing it up, but it is working. I’ll just erase what you typed and—”

(The customer proceeds to cancel the transaction, so I run it through again.)

Me: “Okay, just go ahead and enter your PIN normally.”

(The customer starts typing in her PIN again and then starts to look upset again.)

Customer: “It’s not working!”

(I explained it to her again and restarted the process. This time, she picked up the pen used for signatures, and actually started trying to draw the numbers on the screen. Sadly, that wasn’t even the worst transaction of the day.)

Related:
PIN-Headed, Part 4
PIN-Headed, Part 3
PIN-Headed, Part 2

(My store offers “instant savings,” which are discounts automatically applied to certain items at the end of their transaction. Some people, however, bring in their instant savings booklet thinking its a coupon they need to show us.)

Me: “All right, ma’am, the till is processing your instant savings, and I’ll give you your total.”

Customer: “Oh! I want to use this coupon!”

(She hands me her instant savings booklet.)

Me: “Don’t worry, ma’am. Those coupons are applied automatically.”

Customer: “Okay, but I’d also like to use this coupon.”

(She hands me a raffle ticket with, “Keep this coupon,” and a string of numbers printed on it.)

Me: “Uh, ma’am, this is a raffle ticket.”

Customer: “No, it says, ‘coupon.’”

Me: “It’s not a coupon, I assure you. It doesn’t show a product to offer a discount on, or an amount to take off.”

Customer: *getting upset* “The lady back there—” *gestures to sales floor* “—said to hold onto that, and I want my money off.”

(I realize I’m not getting anywhere.)

Me: “Oh, you know what? These actually expired yesterday.”

Customer: *dejectedly* “Oh, all right.”

(I’m teaching certain classes in my department to fund the final year of my PhD. I go to the department administrator to ask her how many students are in a class so I can fill in equipment request forms for a practical. When I get to her office, our admin is standing in the middle of it looking upset.)

Me: “[Admin], are you okay?”

Admin: “I’ve scratched my new watch.”

(She shows me a smartwatch, and since it was her birthday a week or so earlier I assume it was a gift.)

Admin: “I stood up, and I must have been a bit dizzy because I stumbled into the door and scratched it on the lock. It’s brand new, and I really don’t want to pay over £100 to get the screen fixed. I don’t know if it will be waterproof any more.”

Me: “If you get a screen protector–“

(Before I can say anything else, she shouts, “I have one!” and immediately starts picking at the screen of her watch. A few moments later, she’s picked the protector off to reveal an undamaged screen underneath. Before I can do or say anything, she throws herself at me and hugs me so hard I am knocked back a few steps, since she is a little taller than I am. Finally, she lets me go.)

Admin: “So what did you need?”

Me: “How many student are in [module]?”

(She sits down at her desk and opens the page she needs to tell me that.)

Admin: “You don’t mind hugs, do you?”

Me: “A bit late if I did.”

(I’m not actually fond of hugs from anyone except family and close friends, but she was so happy I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. She gave me the class size and I went to fill in my paperwork.)

(I’ve chipped a tooth. My regular dentist puts a filling in, but recommends a crown as a more stable, long-term repair. Since I already have a rather large cavity and filling in that tooth, they also refer me to an endodontist to see if I’ll need a root canal first. I call their office to set up a consult.)

Receptionist: “Good morning. Thank you for calling [Office].”

Me: “Good morning. I’ve been referred to you by [My Dentist]. I need a consultation to see if a root canal is necessary.”

Receptionist: “Okay, are you a patient of ours?”

Me: “No, I’d be a new patient.”

Receptionist: “Can I have your name?”

(I give my first and last name. My last name is somewhat unusual, and has a lot of letters that sound like other letters, so I always go the extra mile and spell it out using the phonetic alphabet.)

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Me: *spells it again, still phonetically*

Receptionist: *spells it back, inverting the last two letters*

Me: “No, no.” *spells it out again*

Receptionist: “Oh, okay, no R.” *spells it back incorrectly*

Me: “No, there is an R.” *spells it AGAIN* “It’s like [word], but with an A at the end.”

Receptionist: *finally gets it right* “I’m not finding you in our system.”

Me: “Right, no, I’m a new patient; I’ve just been referred for a consultation.”

Receptionist: “Oh, I’m sorry, okay. I’ll need more information from you, then.”

(We very slowly and carefully go through the rest of my details.)

Receptionist: “And what do you need done?”

Me: “Just a consultation right now. I’m getting a crown, but my dentist would like to see if I should get a root canal first.”

Receptionist: “You need a root canal?”

Me: “No! Just a consultation.”

Receptionist: “Okay, a consultation. When would you like to come in?”

Me: “Anytime Monday is good.”

Receptionist: “We have 3:30 on Monday?”

Me: “Yes, that would be fine.”

Receptionist: “Okay, there’s also 1:50?”

Me: “Um, either one, I guess? 3:30 or 1:50, whichever is more convenient for you.”

Receptionist: “Okay, 1:30 on Monday, then.”

Me: “I’m sorry, 1:30 or 1:50?”

Receptionist: “Yes, 1:50.”

Me: “Great, thank you.”

(I think I’ll show up before 1:30, just to be safe!)