(I’m in the IT department. We’ve recently switched to a new, notoriously incompetent ISP as a result of some ridiculous bureaucracy, and the first day of being switched over has resulted in a county-wide Internet outage. The staff has access to an emergency Internet connection to continue working, but the entire lab — the library’s most widely-used feature — is out of commission. When I arrive at work that morning, right as the library is opening, there is a sign stating this on the front door. There is also a sign on all the stairwell doors, and one in the elevator as I ride up.)

Supervisor: “Hey, [My Name], the Internet—”

Me: “Yep, saw the signs.”

Supervisor: “Yeah. Come on down to the reference desk so we can get them on the emergency network, at least.”

Me: “You got it.”

(The reference desk is where patrons can check out computers in the lab. We head down through the staff elevator. There’s another sign announcing the lab’s closure on a stand near the main elevator, and two more posted on both doors leading to the lab. The self-checkout station also has a sign posted on it.)

Me: *jokingly* “Wonder how many people are going to ask if the lab’s open today.”

Supervisor: “What? We’ve got like thirty signs posted.”

Me: “Mm, well…”

(We quickly get the reference librarians back online. As I’m standing up from where I’ve been kneeling under the desk, a notepad catches my eye, and I crack up.)

Me: “[Supervisor], check this out.”

(The page has the title, “People who ignored the signs,” with a running tally below it.)

Supervisor: “You must be kidding me. How many are on there?”

Me: “Upwards of fifteen.”

(We hadn’t even been open a full hour yet.)

In the late 1990s to early 2000s, I was a tech at a small computer store. A woman brought in her malfunctioning computer and paid a rush charge to have it looked at right away. While I was checking her machine in, she was going on and on about being an attorney and needing the computer fixed quickly to be able to serve her clients. I handed her our standard disclaimer about data loss, etc., and asked her to sign.

Before I could finish explaining what it was, she grabbed my pen, signed the form without looking at it, and walked off.

I made note of her name in case I ever needed an attorney, so I could remember not to use her.

(The library where I work has a high turnover of pages, as it’s a pretty thankless job. It’s not unusual for them to work a few shifts and then quit. We have recently hired a new page, a young man. I see him pushing a cart by the desk.)

Me: “Hi, Brandon!”

Page: “Hi!”

(A few days later…)

Me: “Hi, Brandon!”

Page: “Hi!”

(A few more days later…)

Me: “Hi, Brandon!”

Page: “Hi!”

(A week or so later I’m at the desk with a colleague.)

Coworker: “Oh, did you hear? David quit.”

Me: “Who is David?”

Coworker: “The new page. He just started like two weeks ago.”

Me: “Huh, I don’t think I even met him.”

Coworker: “Are you sure?”

(She starts describing him, and to my horror I realize she’s describing the page I’ve been calling “Brandon.”)

Me: “Oh, my God, I thought his name was Brandon! I called him Brandon like six times to his face and he never corrected me!”

Coworker: *laughing*

Me: “I feel terrible! Oh, my God.”

(I really did feel awful. I wish he would have told me his name was David! The worst part is that we all wear name tags, so if I’d taken two seconds to look at his name tag I would have realized my mistake. I’m more careful now about learning the new pages’ names.)

(Wandering around the supermarket, I come across a young woman wearing a shirt that has the same off-green colour as the employees’ shirts. She’s stopped with a trolley and typing steadily on her phone.)

Me: “Excuse me, miss?”

Woman: *doesn’t respond*

Me: “Ma’am, can you please–”

Woman: “Don’t work here. Go away.”

Me: “But–”

Woman: *raising her voice to a shout* “What is wrong with all you people? Are you r*****ed? I said I don’t f****** work here!”

Me: “Awesome, but you’re blocking the [Cereal].”

(The woman actually looked up from her phone, looked behind her, and forcefully pushed her trolley a few meters to the side. She folded her arms and glared at me.)

(I used to live in a small town and worked as a cashier at the only supermarket in the town. Three years ago I moved away from that town to the big city, which is roughly a five-hour drive. I recently went back to the small town for a family reunion and went to the store I used to work at to say hello to all my former colleagues, and to do some shopping. That is when this takes place.)

Customer: *grabbing me on the shoulder and turning me around* “It was him! He’s the one I’ve been telling you about! You need to fire him!”

Me: “Huh?”

(A manager approaches, not the one from when I worked here.)

Manager: “I can assure you, ma’am, that he doesn’t work here.”

Customer: “He does so! Stop lying and fire the little S.O.B!”

Me: “He’s right; I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Yes, you do! But not for much longer!”

Manager: “What is your issue with him?”

Customer: “Around three and a half years ago, I lost my debit card in here; I told this little S.O.B about it when he was on the service kiosk, and he took down my details, but he never called me back to tell me about my card! Fire him now!”

Me: “I haven’t worked for the company for three and a half years; they can’t fire someone who left a while ago.”

Customer: “You listen to me. I am the customer, so I am right! You are fired! Get out of my sight.”

Me: *to the manager, who is gobsmacked* “The one thing I don’t miss about this job is the angry rude customers with bad B.O. I’m sorry she has ruined your shift, buddy.”

Customer: “How dare you?!”

Me: “Don’t worry. I don’t work here anymore, so you won’t have to be served by me again!”

Customer: “Are you going to fire him?!”

Manager: “Considering he doesn’t work for the company, I can’t fire him.”

Customer: “I shall be shopping elsewhere, then!”

(After she left, the manager and I did have a good laugh about that.)