(I work at a pet store that also provides training classes for dogs. The day before, the trainer got into an accident and went to the hospital. He then had a bad reaction to some antibiotics he was given and had to rush back to the emergency room the next morning. He calls and tells the manager on duty that he can’t come in, so she agrees to call his students and let them know class is canceled and will resume next week as scheduled. Unfortunately, his paperwork is messed up and the manager does not know he has a seven pm class, so she doesn’t call them. The four families arrive and ask me when class is starting. Since I got there at four pm I have no idea what is going on so I ask the manager and she tells me to relay what happened to the class, since she is busy.)

Me: *addressing all four families* “I have just been informed that the trainer had a bad reaction to his antibiotics and had to be rushed to the hospital, so he had to cancel class. We were told that the manager earlier called all his students to let them know but I think she missed your class. I am terribly sorry, you guys. Class will start next week.

Customer #1: “Oh, okay, no problem. Thank you!” *happily walks off to go shopping*

Customer #2: “Things happen. We’ll see you all next week!” *leaves store*

Customer #3: *suddenly intensely irate* “THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS! WHY WE WERE NOT CALLED?! HUH?!”

Me: *calmly but slightly taken aback by her sudden shift in tone* “I apologize, but I do not know anything about training. I do not work that department; all I know is I was told the morning manager called the classes b—“

Customer #3: “WELL, CLEARLY NO ONE GOT CALLED BECAUSE WE’RE ALL HERE! I WANT TO TALK TO THE MANAGER, NOW!”

Me: “Of course. She’s the blonde one over there helping the customer with fish.”

Customer #3: “THE ONE WITH HER BACK TO US?! HORRIBLE CUSTOMER SERVICE!” *stomps off towards the other end of the store*

(Customer #4 was standing off to the side during this entire exchange and now looks over at me and approaches. I prepare for the worst.)

Me: “I am terribly sorry about this inconvenience. I thought the manager called this morning.”

Customer #4: “Oh, honey, it is not your fault. I don’t know what that lady’s problem is but she needs to pull out whatever died up her butt. It’s not an inconvenience; I literally live five minutes away and I bet you she lives about that far, too. Some people think that just because you work at a store you don’t have a life outside of this and you need to cater to them.”

Me: *relieved* “Thank you for understanding! So many people just don’t get it.”

Customer #4: “Well, she obviously never worked retail! I worked retail for ten years and it gives you a whole new perspective on life. Don’t let her get you down. This ain’t a big deal. Have a good night. We’ll see you next week. And tell the trainer I hope he is feeling better!” *leaves the store*

(My faith in humanity has been restored.)

(A customer service supervisor and I are working the front desk on a busy Saturday morning. A woman walks in to the store followed closely by a boy, who looks to be about 10-11, who is riding a bicycle. The woman goes to get a cart and the boy starts riding circles in our front area.)

Supervisor: “Excuse me, ma’am, he can’t ride his bike in here.”

Woman: *waving him off* “Oh, don’t worry about him. He will be fine.”

Supervisor: I’m sorry, he can’t ride a bike in here; someone might get hurt. He will have to leave the bike outside.”

Woman: *getting angry* “We can’t leave the bike outside! IT WILL GET STOLEN!”

(Meanwhile, the child is still riding circles and essentially blocking the entire front area. Other customers are trying to get through but can’t because they run the risk of getting hit by the kid.)

Supervisor: “Fine, leave the bike up here and we will keep an eye on it, while you shop. He cannot ride it through the store. We can’t have anyone getting hurt.”

Woman: “Are you kidding me? Do you see how busy it is? If you take your eyes off of it for a second someone will snatch it. He will be f—“

(The woman can’t finish her sentence as the child crashes into a display of grape jelly. The display is about four feet tall and the jars are glass. We watch as the kid crashes to the floor and then the display topples over, sending jars, glass, and grape jelly all over the floor. None of the debris hits the kid, but he is lying on the floor in shock.)

Woman: “I am not cleaning that up!”

Supervisor: “No, but you are going to pay for all the damaged merchandise.”

Woman: “I will not! That display was flimsy. I will sue if he is hurt.”

Supervisor: “I’m calling the police.” *goes to grab the phone*

Woman: *wide eyed* “No, no, no, don’t do that!”

(She grabbed the child and the bike and ran out the door. The supervisor and I started asking the other customers in the vicinity if they were okay. Fortunately, nobody was hurt. The supervisor ran outside to try to catch the woman, but she had disappeared. Two of my coworkers and I spent over two hours cleaning the big mess.)

(My little brother doesn’t want to go to bed.)

Mom: “Time for bed!”

Brother: “You’re not my dad! You can’t tell me what to do!”

Dad: “I am your dad and I say go to bed!”

Brother: “Yeah… but you aren’t Mario. I only take orders from Mario.”

(My family is full of nerds, so we have a Mario hat. I happen to know where it is. I run to get it, put it on, and come back.)

Me: “IT’S A-MEEE!”

Brother: *sighs dramatically and walks out of the room*

My sister and I were deeply in love with Michael Jackson and the Jackson 5 from the first time we saw them on the Ed Sullivan Show, Thanksgiving, 1969. She was six and I was nine.

Fast forward to Christmas, 1971. Our parents give us a portable record player. Our parents had a couple of Jackson 5 records and we played them over and over, ad nauseam.

In August, 1972, Michael Jackson released the album Ben. Oh, we wanted that album so badly; oh, so badly. So we started saving; all of our Sunday school money, all of our candy money, any money we found anywhere went into the Ben Bank. After about two months we had enough for the album. We hounded our mother unmercifully to please take us to the department store so that we could buy the album.

Finally, late on a Sunday, she takes us there, does her shopping, and then she leads us around to where the albums are sold. Now mind you this is a Sunday in the 1970s. All stores close at 5:00 pm and it’s 4:45. My sister is the keeper of the bank, so she is walking in front.

We walk to the counter and politely ask the young lady working there if there is a copy of Michael Jackson’s Ben. She goes and gets it. Oh, my, we are so happy, practically vibrating with excitement. The young lady is smiling, too; she can see we are so happy.

She says that will be $5.45. My sister puts the paper bag that holds all the money we saved for this album on the counter and upends it. Five dollars and fifty cents worth of dimes, nickels, and pennies roll out and we start counting. My mom walks away at that point. After about 10 minutes of us going 1,2,3,4,5, because by that time we have given her all the silver and we are into the 300 pennies that are included, the young lady just starts sweeping it off the counter and throwing them into the register.

My sister and I say, “But we didn’t count it for you.” The young lady says, “That’s okay; I can see that it’s enough.”

That happened 45 years ago and yet I can still see that young lady’s face fall as all those coins rolled across the counter. To the young lady I wish to say, “I’m so so sorry we did that to you. Thank you for being a kind soul to two little girls ten minutes before closing.”

(My friend is texting another friend, and because I’m driving, is reading the text to me as she types.)

Friend: “Okay, so… we’re… going to… have lunch… and… then… after… we’re going… to… Plato’s— f***, not perjury… Plato’s– s***, not plates… PLATO’S— d*** it, NOT PIRATES… PLATO’S! F***! PLATO’S!… Okay, there we go… Plato’s… Closet. Stupid phone.”