I am preparing to close for the evening when a customer arrives.

Me: “Hi there! How you goin’?”

The customer silently stares at me, holding out a $50 note.

Me: “Pump three, $15.60 change. Have a good one!”

I hand him the change and go back to counting the float. I don’t hear the door so I look up again. He is STILL mutely holding out his hand. I print out a receipt and hand it to him.

Customer: “Won’t be coming back here again. Horrible service.”

Me: “With all due respect, sir, I spoke to you three times. You have not spoken until that moment. And folks your age say that my generation has no manners. As well as that, you’re from over 1,000 kilometres away; I doubt I would see you again either way. You have a good night.”

I have just gotten a call for a new job, which I have been looking for. However, training starts in less than a week, and having just received this call, I only have about five days until I start my new job. I write up my notice of resignation to my current employer and bring it in the following morning. I do feel bad about not being able to give a proper two weeks of notice, but training starts soon and the next training group is in a future of “nobody knows.”

Me: *Handing in the letter* “Hi. I’m here to hand in my letter of resignation. I do apologize but it’s not a full two weeks of notice. I was given very short notice myself.”

Manager: “Wait, what do you mean?”

Me: “Well, unfortunately, I was given the call just last night and my first day will be Tuesday, so Monday will be my last day here.”

Manager: “You need to give at least two weeks of notice though.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but like I said, I don’t have a full two weeks of notice to give. I’m just trying to give as much notice as I can.”

Manager: “Yeah, but how am I supposed to handle the situation with nobody else to close?”

I am one of three people in my workplace that know how to close, one of them being my manager; however, she works at another place during night so she never actually closes.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t have the ability to give a proper two weeks of notice.”

Manager: “Well, how about working Tuesday?”

Me: “I can’t. Monday is my last day here. I can’t let this job opportunity slip past me.”

Manager: “That’s why you’re supposed to give two weeks of notice!”

Me: “I already explained that I literally cannot do that. I just received the call and handed you the first chance I got. I got caught off guard, but I can’t start any other day due to the fact that that’s when training starts.”

Manager: “You agreed to give two weeks of notice when you eventually leave, though.”

Me: “I planned to, but I already have explained why I literally cannot. I’m willing to help through my last days here, but Monday will be my last day, as my new job starts Tuesday. I’m sorry.”

Manager: *Pause* “Fine.” *Huffs off*

Customer: “Excuse me, sir, can you help me move my groceries into my car?”

Me: “Yeah, sure, I can do that for ya.”

I move the bags into her car.

Customer: “Thank you.”

Five minutes pass, and the same previous customer calls me over.

Customer: “Excuse me, could you help me move my groceries in my car? The person before you—” *Me* “—apparently doesn’t know how to fill a car with groceries.”

Me: “Um… sure.”

A very old lady pulls up to the auto parts store.

Customer: “Hi. I wanted to see if you could run one of your diagnostic tests on my truck to see what’s wrong with it.”

Me: “Sure, ma’am, let me grab my scanner real fast.”

We walk up to her 2002 Ford Ranger.

Me: “Is it unlocked, ma’am?”

Customer: “…”

I just open her door and plug in to the OBD2 — on-board diagnostic port. I quickly realise the port is not communicating with the scanner.

Me: “Ma’am, does your cigarette lighter work? Or has it stopped working?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “Yes, it works? Or yes, it has stopped working?”

Customer: “I don’t know. I push it in and it won’t pop back out! What’s that got to do with any of this?!”

Me: “Ma’am, generally the OBD2 port runs on the same fuse that the cigarette lighter is on.”

I open the fuse panel and realise that fuses are numbered and not labeled.

Me: “Ma’am, do you have the owner’s manual? I’ll check the cigarette lighter fuse if you do.”

Customer: “I live on social security! I don’t have the money to buy a d*** fuse!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not telling you to buy a fuse. I’m saying that I need to check it or I won’t be able to pull your trouble codes.”

Customer: “Stop trying to upsell to me and just tell me what’s wrong with my truck!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not trying to sell you a fuse. If your fuse is bad, I can switch it with another one temporarily just long enough to pull trouble codes. I understand money is tight right now for everyone. I’m just trying to pull codes, but I can’t do it if the scanner can’t communicate with the engine computer.”

We eventually get a hold of her owner’s manual and I find that spot seventeen is the cigarette lighter fuse.

Me: “Okay, ma’am, the cigarette lighter fuse is blown. I’m going to put another fuse in there so I can pull codes, and then I will replace your blown fuse back where it was before.”

I make sure to do everything in plain view where she can see. In all reality, it’s against policy to mess with fuses, but I am trying to do the right thing and help the old woman.

Me: “Okay, ma’am, it’s working now. You have three error codes: P1000, P0171, and P0174. I’ll get you a printout inside with all the info on it.”

Customer: “Well, it took long enough!”

I replace the blown fuse exactly where it was in space seventeen and walk inside with her, making sure to hold the heavy door for her.

Me: “All right, ma’am, here are the printouts. These codes point toward a bad mass airflow sensor, but your mechanic can decide that.”

Customer: “What the f*** does that mean?! Like I know what you’re talking about!”

I’m biting my lip so hard. I am thinking, “Why the heck did you have me pull your codes if you’re not even listening to me? Why isn’t your mechanic pulling your codes?!”

Me: “All right, ma’am, thank you. Have a good day.”

Approximately thirty minutes later, she called back screaming that some [disabled slur] couldn’t pull codes on her truck and her mechanic told her never to trust [Company], and that we have no idea what we’re talking about. You try to help someone and they hate you for it.

There is a convenience store that I pass every day during my commute. I’ve never gone inside it before, but I develop a hankering for a soda on the way home one day, so I decide to give it a shot. There is nobody inside except for one cashier, whom I presume to be the owner.

I go over and pick out my soda. While the shelf advertises them at two for $3, I only want one. I don’t mind paying the regular price, but it is nowhere to be seen. I take my soda up to the counter to pay.

Cashier: “You have to buy two of these sodas if you want the deal.”

Me: “I know. I only want the one, though.”

Cashier: “You can’t buy only one. You have to buy two.”

Me: “I understand. I don’t mind paying the normal price; I just want to know what the normal price is.”

Cashier: “You have to buy two! You can’t buy one!”

Me: “I understand! I just—”

Cashier: “No, you do not understand! Get out of my store or I’ll call the cops!”

I gave up at this point and left empty-handed. I got my soda fix at a fast-food place just up the street. If anything, at least I now have a partial explanation for why that convenience store’s parking lot is almost always empty whenever I pass it on my commute.