A customer comes in to collect an order they made online, but I am having trouble finding it. They are getting frustrated with me.

Customer: “I knew I should have gone to Domino’s, instead!”

Me: “Sir, this is Domino’s.”

Customer: “Oh, so you’re not Pizza Hut?”

I point to the massive Domino’s poster behind me.

Customer: “Oh… well… can you make my pizza for me anyway?”

Me: “I think we can try to match it, but if it’s a customized pizza, it might cost more than what you ordered at Pizza Hut.”

Customer: “Oh… you’d still charge me?”

Me: “Well, yes, sir. We need to charge for the pizzas we sell.”

Customer: “But I already paid Pizza Hut. Can’t you just… get it from them?”

Me: “That’s not how it works, sir.”

Customer: “I don’t understand.”

Me: “I’m not surprised, sir.”

A customer comes in, in quite a tizzy.

Customer: “I need a printer right away!”

I walk him over to the printers and go through the sales process. After a lot of hemming and hawing, he finally decides on a low-end laser printer. I sell him the printer, a power strip, a printer cable (this was before USB… wow!), and a toner as he states that he has a lot of printing to do.

I feel pretty good about this sale thinking I’ve done my job as a good employee and gotten him what he needs.

About three to four hours later, he calls the store, all irate.

Customer: *Yelling* “The printer isn’t doing what I need it to do!”

Me: “Is it plugged in and powered on? And did you install the set-up disk like I talked about with you before you left?”

Customer: “Yes! I even printed the test page, and that worked fine. When I try to print my résumé, it doesn’t work!”

Me: “You said you are using MS Word, right? Does your résumé show up in the print preview correctly?”

Customer: “What does Word have to do with it? I keep pushing the résumé and it won’t print!”

It takes a few beats for me to make the realization and another few before I can compose myself to ask him:

Me: “You mean the ‘resume’ button?”

Customer: “Uh… wha… re…” *Click*

I was unemployed and had to get on state-funded medical insurance. Not long after I signed up, I found a full-time job. The catch was that I had to work for them for a year before I could get their insurance, which meant I had to stay on the state insurance.

The year passed, and I started asking the higher-ups when I would get their insurance. I was told “soon.”

A couple of months pass, and now it’s December. They once again tell me “soon”, but this time, they give me a stack of forms to fill out. I tell them I need an exact date so I’ll know when to cancel my current insurance. They say they’ll let me know when they know. 

Christmas is on a weekend that year. The Friday before, I’m told that my new insurance will start on January 1st. I call my current insurance, and they tell me I can’t cancel online or on the phone; I have to go in person. The office will be closed the Monday after Christmas. AND they fail to mention that I can make an appointment.

On Tuesday, I go to the local office and wait for two hours. A lady calls me back to her office. I have to explain three times why I’m there. Either she doesn’t understand, or she thinks I don’t understand. She finally gets it.

Insurance Lady #1: “Oh! Your new insurance starts on January 1st.”

Me: “Yes.”

Insurance Lady #1: “So, you need to cancel this insurance as of December 31st.”

Me: “Yes. December 31st will be the last day.”

I sign a few forms, and that should be it.

In late January, I have a doctor’s appointment. Fortunately, I’m able to keep going to the same practice. I give my new insurance card to the receptionist, and she scans it and starts typing on her computer.

Receptionist: “You still have [Former Insurance].”

Me: “No. I canceled that.”

Receptionist: “This shows that it’s still active. You have to cancel in person.”

Me: “I did go in person.”

Then, she tries to argue about what insurance to use. I finally convince her to bill the correct one.

I call and make an appointment at [Former Insurance]’s office. I see a different lady. And again, I have to explain three times why I’m there.

Insurance Lady #2: “If you canceled, then you should be canceled.”

Me: “Yes. But the receptionist at my doctor’s office said it was still active.”

She takes a minute to look up my information.

Insurance Lady #2: “Huh.”

Me: “What?”

Insurance Lady #2: “It shows you were here on [date]. Insurance was canceled. But it also shows that it’s active.”

Me: “Oookay. How do we fix it?”

She leaves the room for a few minutes. When she comes back, she does something on the computer.

Insurance Lady #2: “It should be fixed now.”

“Should”?! I don’t have a lot of faith in “should”.

Me: “Can I get that in writing?”

She rolls her eyes but prints out an official letter. I carry it in my purse for a year just to be on the safe side. And that should be the end of it.

Fast forward a few years. I’ve been diagnosed with stage two breast cancer. I’ve had two surgeries. My oncologist has ordered a few tests and procedures before I start chemotherapy. First up is genetic testing. He wants to know if I have the breast cancer gene. Spoiler alert: I don’t.

I’m at the cancer center talking to the lady responsible for getting approval from insurance.

Approval Lady: “I’m sorry this is taking so long. [Former Insurance] can drag their heels with this stuff.”

Me: “I don’t have [Former Insurance]. I have [Current Insurance]. The receptionist scanned my card when I came for my first appointment.”

She checks her computer.

Approval Lady: “Oh, my gosh! You’re right. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that happened.”

She fixes (?) something in the system. I get approval for the genetic testing the next day. And that should be the end of it.

A few months later, I’ve finished chemo and I’m about to start radiation. My oncologist wants to check on my heart. He orders an echocardiogram. This will be the second one since my diagnosis. I’m talking to the approval lady again.

Approval Lady: “I’m sorry this is taking so long. [Former Insurance] can drag their heels with this stuff.”

Again? Seriously?!

Me: “I don’t have [Former Insurance]; I have [Current Insurance].”

Approval Lady: “Oh, my gosh! That’s right. Didn’t this happen to you before?”

Me: “Yes. Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”

Approval Lady: “No.”

I am dropping off my car at a nearby shop to get some cosmetic work done on it. I have asked my grandma, who lives next to me, if she can pick me up at the shop — a twenty-minute drive — and drop me off at the car rental place that’s on the way back. She agreed, and I texted her the address and told her I would call her when she should leave as I didn’t know how long we would have to go over the details before handing off my keys. 

Me: “Hey, I’m almost to the shop; now should be a good time for you to leave.”

Grandma: “I’m already here.”

Me: “Why? I told you I would call you.”

Grandma: “I had to go shopping this morning and figured I would drive straight here, so I’ve been waiting for you for an hour.”

I don’t say anything because I have long given up on her level of crazy and just drive to the shop. I pull in, and… she’s nowhere to be seen. I call her again.

Me: “Where are you?”

Grandma: “I’m at the shop. Where are you?”

Me: “You’re at the wrong address. I’m standing by a sign advertising the business name, so don’t even bother trying to say I’m at the wrong place.”

Grandma: “Well, where is it, then?”

Me: “When you turned onto the road, it was the first turn on the left. I’m right across from the cemetery.”

Five minutes later, she calls me back.

Grandma: “You told me wrong. I drove past the cemetery and didn’t see anything.”

Me: “No, I said across from the cemetery. I’m staring at it now. I’m standing in the middle of the driveway, and you can see me from the road.”

Finally, she pulls in.

Grandma: “You gave me the wrong address. You said it’s 426, but this is 428.”

Me: “No, I didn’t. Google Maps says 426, the mailbox says 426, and the business says 426. You think they all got it wrong, but you somehow know better?”

Grandma: “No, you gave me the wrong address.”

I am running for the bus and just miss it. As I’m cursing my bad timing, a car pulls up and I hear my name.

Driver: “Hey, [My Name]! Get in! I’ll get you to the next stop before the bus does!”

Amazing! I jump in and am buckling my seat belt when I look over to the driver, who is now looking at me with growing concern.

Driver: “You’re not [My Name].”

Me: “I am, but I don’t think I am your [My Name].”

And that’s how I just jumped into the car of a random stranger, who happened to look like my friend and drive the same make and colour of car, and how I looked like one of the driver’s friends, also called [My Name].

Next time, I will aim to be more aware when jumping into a car!