I am an artist and I post my work online. In the early days, I only added my signature, next to the image. Then, my art got stolen, signature edited out. I posted my signature next to the image and added a digital signature over the bottom. My art got stolen, the digital signature cropped off. I added the digital signature halfway down the image, and it still got cropped off. Tired of all the theft, I created a large watermark. You can still see the image, but if you wish to crop it out, you’d only have like half a face. 

Two days after releasing my work with a huge watermark, I get a message from someone who has been following my work for a while, but always complained I was in it for the money, should do more freebies, and that I should think of the fans more; they are the base of my success!

“I don’t understand why you’d want to ruin your art like this. Please don’t use that ugly watermark any more. Now I can no longer print it out and hang it on my wall. You are losing fans, starting with me!”

I didn’t listen to him and am now bankru– Oh, wait, nothing happened. Still in the business, but the art theft decreased significantly!

(I am extremely socially anxious, as well as autistic. I also live on benefits due to not being able to work, and money is something I’m constantly stressed about. I’m sending a package out and I’m certain it’s the day I get paid and I have money on my bank account. However, my card gets declined.)

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry! Can you hold it for, like, five minutes? My partner is around here nearby, so I can ask for her to come to pay.”

(I’m really embarrassed, but I still try to be as polite as possible.)

Clerk #1: “Sure!”

(I step out of the line and go a little way away, calling my partner. I expect her to come there, but she transfers money to my bank account, instead, so I’m good to go in a couple of minutes. I take a number from the machine for the line and wait. [Clerk #1] is now in another area and doesn’t see me, while [Clerk #2] is in serving desk.)

Clerk #2: *to [Clerk #1]* “What is this transaction?” *looking at the computer*

Clerk #1: “Oh, the customer didn’t have enough money for the package; they’re coming back.”

Clerk #2: “Do you know if they’re paying in cash or card?”

Clerk #1: “No.”

Clerk #2: *sighing and rolling her eyes, looking visibly pissed off*

(I am only a few meters away, waiting for her to call my number, and I feel absolutely humiliated. I find myself constantly low on funds, even when I try to save and not use much of it. This feels like a dagger to my heart. I decide to step up.)

Me: “Excuse me?”

Clerk #2: *looking up* “Yes?”

Me: “That’s actually mine.”

Clerk #2: “The—”

Me: “The package. I came here to pay for it.” *smiles friendly*

(A look of absolute alarm and embarrassment crossed [Clerk #2]’s face. She realized I must’ve heard everything. She didn’t say anything, however, and she was professional the whole time. I was friendly to her, even though I still felt mortified.)

Around mid-October, I begin to feel pain on the upper side in the back of my jaw. I didn’t have my wisdom teeth out as a teen, so I know I’ve waited too long to have them removed. At this point in my life, I’m on state Medicaid; I find a dentist who takes my insurance and see them in early November. The dentist confirms it’s my wisdom teeth coming in and refers me to an oral surgeon, as the X-rays indicate that all four are bone-impacted. 

I call the oral surgeon’s office and get an appointment for December 28th. It goes well; they take another set of X-rays that informs us that the roots of my top wisdom teeth have grown into my sinus cavity. The bottom two are close enough to my nerve that he wants all four extracted, I will have to be anesthetized for it, and they need to come out ASAP. He assures they’ll submit the paperwork and the insurance will get back to me within two weeks. 

I leave satisfied. 

Two weeks roll around, nothing. I give calling the insurance an extra day, due to Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. They inform me that they have no record of any submission at all. They call the oral surgeon’s office and assure me that the office will resubmit the paperwork. I ask her how long it will take — by this point, one wisdom tooth has partially erupted; the other side of that tooth is pushing on my last molar — and am informed if the office submits online, it will take two days. 

I then call the oral surgeon to find out how they might be submitting the paperwork, so I can find out how long I’m going to be in pain. I speak with a lovely woman who, in response to my question, replies, “I don’t know,” and hangs up on me. I call back immediately; it goes straight to the office message.

I call the insurance company back and ask if anything can be done. At this point, I can only wait for them to submit the paperwork, but I am urged that if they don’t, to contact state Medicaid and make a complaint. 

I wait 24 hours and call the surgeon again. This time I get another woman, who is actually helpful. Surprise, surprise, no one submitted my paperwork. They also can only submit by mail, so there is at least a two-week wait. [Employee #2] assures me that she’ll submit the paperwork. She apologizes for her coworker with an exasperated sigh that tells me this isn’t the first problem [Employee #1] has caused. 

Two weeks pass. I finally get a response from the insurance company in the mail: the extraction is approved, but general anesthesia is not. According to the paperwork, whoever submitted used the wrong code for the new year and it needs to be resubmitted, again. 

It’s now Mid-February and I have been dealing with wisdom tooth pain since October. I can barely eat or sleep because of the pain. 

I call state Medicaid and make a complaint about the way I was treated and how the situation was handled. I am told that my complaint is not valid because I did not receive services from the surgeon. They also will not approve the general anesthesia because I do not have any medical reason for it, i.e., fear of needles, anxiety, etc. To have all four bone-impacted wisdom teeth removed. At one time. No need. At all. 

I find another dentist farther from my area and make the earliest appointment they have. They recommend me to another surgeon, even farther than the first surgeon. I get an appointment with the second surgeon within the week. He apologizes for the first surgeon and assures me that they’ll handle it properly.

It’s now the beginning of March. I get the paperwork from the insurance regarding the new surgeon’s submission; everything’s perfect. I have the surgery on March 27th, half a year after the pain started. It takes longer than expected, as my mouth is small; the surgeon has to take my bottom wisdom teeth in pieces to work around the nerves. I am advised to stay on bed-rest for the next five days. 

Everything works out just fine — months pass and my jaw has healed completely. I end up getting a full-time job and dental insurance — different from state Medicaid — through them. 

Sometime around August, I get a letter in the mail from my insurance, denying payment for an appointment from the very first dentist I saw about a referral to an oral surgeon. 

I call that dentist and have my files transferred as quickly as I can.

(I work at a clothing store that sells used clothes, allowing us to constantly have sales with the high amount of clothes in stock. This weekend we are having a sale where you can get 20% off whatever you can fit into a bag. Some customers don’t manage to pick up a bag when they first walk in, so at the register, the cashiers are allowed to give them bags to still receive the discount.)

Me: “Hello! Would you like to use a free bag to get 20% off your purchase?”

Customer: “Oh, no, thank you. I don’t even need a bag.”

Me: *confused by her not wanting a free discount* “Okay, well, your total is [total].”

Customer: “Oh, actually, I do have this flyer you guys gave me last time I was here!”

(This flyer mentions the 20% discount bag, but also doubles as a raffle ticket to get a gift card for the store.)

Me: “Oh, sweet! Sounds good; I’ll put it in the raffle bucket!”

(She pays and leaves the store. About ten minutes later, the woman comes back into the store. There is a long line now and I am helping another customer who also didn’t want a bag. The woman cuts the line to ask a different cashier why she didn’t receive the 20% discount.)

Customer: “I was just in here and—” *makes eye contact with me* “SHE didn’t give me my 20% discount!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, that’s because you said you didn’t want the bag. You need the bag to get the discount.”

Customer: *stutters* “Well, I gave you the flyer! I should’ve gotten the discount with that!”

Me: *shows her the flyer* “Well, actually, this was so that you knew the discount was this weekend. It also had a raffle ticket for you that I put you in for.”

Customer: “I SWEAR! Okay, fine. Y’know what? Fine.” *stomps out the door*

Me: *to my current customer* “Now, are you sure you don’t want to use a bag to get the discount?”

Other Cashier: *turns to me* “I bet she’s going to cuss you out when she gets back in her car.”

(It’s early in the day and fairly slow. I’m manning the till while my coworker is preparing trays of pizza dough just a few feet away. A man dressed in business attire walks into the shop and approaches my till, endlessly jabbering on his phone. He thrusts a coupon for a free one-topping slice at me, but says nothing apart from continuing his phone conversation.)

Me: *quietly, turning to my coworker* “It’s a policy of mine to ignore customers if they’re on their phone.”

Coworker: “Yeah, me, too.”

(I remain at the till but say nothing to the man, waiting for him to, at the very least, swivel his phone from his face for the half a second it would take to say whatever topping he wants on his slice. But alas, he continues his phone conversation like we’re not even there. I continue to stand in silence, just waiting, for a good three minutes at least, still holding the coupon, and I haven’t touched the order screen at all.)

Me: *turning to my coworker* “Dude, this is getting awkward.”

Coworker: *nods*

(Finally, the man takes a moment away from his super important phone call.)

Customer: “Are we about ready to go here, or what?”

Coworker: “Yeah, we’re just waiting on you.”

Me: “Whenever you’re ready.”

Customer: “Oh, uh, I’ll have pepperoni.” *returns to phone call*

(We made him his pepperoni slice, but we took our time and made sure to put it in the oven that cooks slower.)