I’m at a coffee shop ordering coffee. Knowing that they add cream and sugar as a standard, I order this:
Me: “Hi, one large hazelnut iced coffee with no sugar, please.”
Cashier: *With unnecessary attitude* “You can just say, ‘only cream.’ No need to say, ‘no sugar’!”
I just brushed it off and paid, but is it just me, or is that exactly the same thing?
In the office kitchen, bright and early, I am pouring myself a mug of coffee. There are three others in the kitchen with me.
Coworker #1: “I smell lavender. Do you?”
All agree but me as I put the pot back on the warming plate.
Coworker #1: “Do you smell it?”
The question is now directed at me and I turn, shrugging.
Me: “I don’t know. I can’t smell.”
Coworker #2: “What?!”
Me: “Yeah. I’ve never had taste or smell my whole life.”
I move to leave but [Coworker #2] shrieks.
Coworker #2: “YOU CAN’T TASTE?”
Me: “Nope. I’ve never tasted anything ever.”
Coworker #2: “You could have [rapidly spreading illness]!”
Me: *Pause* “No. I’ve never had the sense. I didn’t lose it. I don’t have [illness].”
Coworker #2: “You’re hiding symptoms.”
Me: “Wait. What? No.”
[Coworker #2] staggered away from me in fear (everyone was wearing a mask in the kitchen and in the workplace) and disappeared down the hall. Within minutes, an [illness] trace was started by our Compliance Officer until the other coworkers who’d heard the kitchen conversation quickly stepped in to tell about what had happened and about my disability.
It took a bit for the hysteria to die down and gossip flew around the office for days afterward. [Coworker #2] avoided me to protect herself from [illness] and I just did my best to keep working.
The lavender turned out to be a box of cupcakes, hidden for an afternoon birthday celebration.
I work at a resort in a tourist town. For the holidays, we have set up special outdoor tents for dining. We only have twelve, and they book for all of December and January within two weeks. Our waitlist is monstrous, and people are usually understanding of this.
We get the occasional interesting call, but this one sticks out. I inform the guest that the tents are fully booked, but that we can add her to our waitlist.
Caller: “Okay, can you put me on the waitlist?”
Me: “Certainly! I will need your name, phone number, and the date you are interested in.”
Caller: “Which date would be the best?”
Me: “Well, whichever date you like! Which date would work best for you?”
Caller: “No, no. Which date would I be most likely to get a call back about?”
Me: “I am terribly sorry, ma’am, but I don’t understand. We have a waitlist for every day that the tents are available, so no one day is better than another. If you would like, I can put you on the list for every single day so you have a better chance?”
Caller: *Deep sigh* “I don’t want to be put on every day. I just want to be put on the list for the day that I will get a call back for. You’re the employee. You should know which day is most likely to open up for me.”
Me: “I am very sorry, but I do not have that information. It would depend on each individual reservation. A day with two people on the waitlist might have no one cancel, and a day with ten people might have twenty cancellations. There is no way for me to know. The best option would be for me to add you to the waitlist for every day.”
Caller: “I do not want every day. There are only certain days I can do. I want you to tell me the days that will have cancellations so that I can tell you if that works for me or not. Why is this so hard for you to understand?! You’re the employee! This should be easy for you!”
We go round and round for fifteen minutes, repeating the same things back and forth. I offer a manager a few times, and she refuses, so my manager gives me the signal to end the call however I can.
Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I am not psychic. I have no way of knowing who will or will not cancel. You can either give me your information so I can add you to our waitlist for every day, for certain days of your choosing, or for none at all. Those are your options. Nothing else.”
She hung up on me without ever providing her information. Some people.
This takes place in a relatively popular Minecraft server for my area, where everyone is challenged to build the biggest, best build they can. I personally love modern-looking mansions, so I decide to build a huge one, and since I’m gay, I put a rainbow beacon set on the roof. It is huge, and it takes me weeks of logging on during every spare moment I have to finish just the outside. I start on the inside, but I have to log off for the night.
When I log back in the next morning, I can’t see the rainbow beacons. There are hundreds of other modern mansions that are just as big and spectacular as mine, so it will take me at least thirty minutes to look, but I have to be somewhere in thirty-five minutes. I decide to take the fast route and just chat [Moderator #1] to see what happened. I am also acquainted with [Moderator #1] in real life, so I have an idea of what happened.
Me: “Hey, [Moderator #1], do you know what happened to my rainbow beacons that were on top of my mansion? I can’t find it otherwise, because it looks so similar to everyone else’s.”
Moderator #1: “Oh, those? Yeah, the person that lives in your mansion now took them off.”
Me: “In my mansion?! I didn’t give anyone permission to be in my mansion!”
Moderator #1: “Oh, well, you gave me permission to sell one of your other mansions, so I figured you wouldn’t care if I sold this one.”
Me: “I only gave you permission to sell that mansion because it was small and crappy! This one I’m not even done with yet, and it’s the hardest build I’ve ever made!”
Moderator #1: “Whatever. It’s not my problem that you didn’t clarify it was just the one mansion. If you want to complain further, here’s the gamertag of the person that lives in your mansion now. [Moderator #2].”
[Moderator #1] then logs off, leaving me to talk to [Moderator #2] alone.
Me: *Fuming* “Hey, [Moderator #2], I need to talk to you.”
[Moderator #2] reads all the chats.
Moderator #2: “Yeah, [My Gamertag], I kind of figured that out. I’m so sorry and I had no idea he didn’t have permission from you to sell the mansion. I also thought I got scammed since the inside wasn’t even finished.”
I’m relieved that [Moderator #2] isn’t an a**hole like [Moderator #1].
Me: “Yeah, the reason it wasn’t finished is that I didn’t know he was going to sell it. I’ll get him to give you a refund.”
Moderator #2: “He’d better give me a refund! I spent four emeralds and three wither skeleton skulls on this house!”
Me: “Oh, also can you put the rainbow beacons back up? I have to leave now, but that’s the only way I’ll be able to see it when I log back in.”
Moderator #2: “No problem. Also, after he gives me my refund, [Moderator #1] is getting banned!”
[Moderator #1] did end up paying back [Moderator #2] in full, he gave me an apology, and then he got banned for selling property without permission from the owner. I finally finished my house, and I also never saw [Moderator #1] in person or on Minecraft again.
I work in the fitting room at my store five days a week. We always have to count the clothing items coming in and out. Usually, customers are annoyed at this, especially when I tell them they have to bring all their clothes out. Some even try to rush out to skip the process.
A woman tries to enter while passing me, and I do my usual thing of letting her know that she has to be counted in. She holds up her items.
Customer: “I only have two things.”
Another one of our policies is that you ALWAYS have to touch the customer’s items just to make sure they’re not hiding anything. I reach out and touch her two shirts.
Customer: “What are you doing?”
Me: “Just double-checking the amount.”
Customer: “What, you think I’m stealing? How dare you?!”
Me: “It’s just store policy, ma’am. I have to count the clothes.”
Customer: “You can see my two shirts here. That should be enough.”
Me: “You’re all good.”
I hand her a number.
Customer: “So disrespectful.”
I walked into the fitting room. I went on break after that so I didn’t have to deal with her again, but management told me later that she complained about the fitting room girl who tried to accuse her of stealing. I told my manager what ACTUALLY happened, who thankfully understood that customers are rude as h***.
