I work in a craft store.

Customer: “Where can I find the glitter markers?”

Me: “The kids’ section probably has some by Crayola.”

Customer: *Seeming unhappy* “Hmm… I’m not sure those are what I want.”

Me: “Do you want glitter gel pens instead?”

Customer: “Yes!”

I pointed to an aisle we could see from where we were standing.

Me: “They should be in the aisle behind that one.”

She left and came back a few minutes later with no pens.

Customer: “Someone should’ve personally escorted me to the pens. You shouldn’t just point! Some people are bad with directions!”

A client was not happy with the colours on his new website. He ordered a bunch of design changes to make it look “right.” He was convinced that we were going out of our way to misunderstand him. Discussions and arguments about the changes gave way to simply doing what the client wanted. 

A few days after applying the changes…

Client: “Looks like the contrast settings were out of whack on my monitor.”

Me: “Happens to the best of us.”

Client: “Exactly! Anyway, let’s revert all the changes you made. I expect all this to be gratis, naturally, as I did most of the recent ‘designing’ for free.”

CONTENT WARNING: Missing Child

When I was a kid, sixty years ago, my parents took us swimming at a pond where you had to pay to get in. I have no clue where it was other than in Connecticut.

Besides the pond, there was a playground. For some reason, this was not adjacent to the swimming area; you had to cross the parking lot and it was surrounded by woods. My parents stayed in the swimming area with my baby sister, while my brothers and I went to the playground.  

We had a great time, playing with kids, making friends, and just having fun. Eventually, my brothers and I tired of this and returned to our parents.

Unfortunately, everyone was out of the pond while it was “being cleaned.” They were using equipment I had never seen before, but it looked unpleasant. I had not heard of anyone cleaning a pond before, and certainly not while it was open. But I was maybe in second or third grade. What did I know about pond maintenance?

Eventually, they let everyone back in the water.

What had happened was a kid went missing and was presumed drowned. They were dredging the pond for his remains.

He showed up maybe half an hour after we had returned to the pond area.

He had been one of our playmates at the playground, and apparently, it was easier to dredge the pond than it was to check for him there.

His poor mom!

I work in a pharmacy that closes from 1:30 to 2:00 every day for lunch. In our state, if the pharmacist is not in the pharmacy, then prescriptions cannot be sold. It was 1:53, I was finishing up lunch and decided to leave the safety of my breakroom and run to the little cat’s room.

On my way, I saw some of my senior patients making their way to the pharmacy. I thought to myself, “They’ll probably just have a seat until the pharmacy opens. There is a large sign explaining clearly that we will return at 2:00.”

I did my business in the restroom. As I was washing my hands, the restroom door swung open, and in came my patient’s wife.

Woman: *Demanding* “I followed you in here. Why can’t we pick up our script?”

This woman was a bit past seventy-five, and I’m built like an Amazon. I didn’t feel physically intimidated, but I honestly could not believe the gall.

Me: *Shortly* “We go to lunch from 1:30 to 2:00.”

Woman: “I understand that, but why can’t I pick up my script?”

Me: “Because the pharmacist is not on duty. We cannot sell scripts when the pharmacist is not there.”

Woman: *Getting sassier* “Well, where is he?”

Me: “She is at lunch and will be back at 2:00 — when you can pick up your script.”

Woman: “Ohhhh, I misunderstood.”

Then, she had the nerve to smile at me as I told her I needed to dry my hands.

This was not the first time I’d been accosted in the restroom, but this was the first time I had been followed into it. I’m just glad I wasn’t on the toilet this time.

I had this email exchange with a client, verbatim.

Me: “The articles supplied by the vet association are password-protected. I can’t simply copy the text out of them; they have to be retyped. I have someone who does that sort of thing. She’s fast, accurate, and inexpensive. I estimate that it’ll cost about $80 for her to retype all four sheets. Do you want me to get her to do it, or would you prefer to handle it yourself?”

Client: “Sure.”

Me: “Haha! That was an ‘either/or’ question. I’m not sure which option you’re agreeing to.”

Client: “Both.”