(I work in IT. I am on a call with an intern who needs a laptop sent down to her. She is giving me the address of her office, as it is not classed as a head office, and therefore is not on our directory.)

Intern: *giving address* “It’s [Number], [Street], the town of Reading.”

(She pronounces it as though you were “reading” a book. I repeat the address back, saying Reading as you are meant to say it, with the “read” being pronounced like “red.”)

Intern: “Uh, no, it’s ‘reading.’ Get it right or it won’t get here.”

Me: “I know it’s spelt, ‘reading,’ but it is pronounced with a ‘red’ instead of ‘read.’ It won’t really matter, as the postcode should tell the courier where it needs to go.”

Intern: “JUST GET IT RIGHT. I’M NOT BEING PUNISHED FOR YOUR STUPIDITY!” *slams the phone down*

(Ignoring the outburst, I send the laptop down. I included Reading in the address, and I received confirmation that it was received and signed for. The intern left six months later and the laptop was returned. When I opened the laptop, I found an entire Wikipedia article printed out and squished between the monitor and keyboard. The article was for a city in California called Redding, with a sticky note telling me to “learn my geography.” I had a good laugh over it with the rest of the department.)

At my younger sister’s elementary school, the library books were divided up by grade. Theoretically, a sound idea. Practically… not so much. My sister was a pretty advanced reader for her age, and so she wanted to read books ahead of her grade level.

The librarian refused.

My mother wrote a note giving her permission, and talked to my sister’s teacher, who spoke to the librarian in hopes of convincing her… to no avail. In her mind, third graders read third-grade books, second graders read second, so on and so forth.

The thing was, though… the librarian had control over what books my sister could take off the shelf or check out. What books she read during library time? Nothing she could do.

My third-grade little sister would very deliberately check out books from the public library that were fifth grade level or higher… and then serenely sit right in front of the fifth-grade bookshelf, reading her book without a care in the world.

I’m pretty sure she’s one of the reasons that librarian only lasted another year.

(I am ordering a coffee. The barista has asked for a name to put on the cup. I use my nickname, Jim. I then take my place with the other customers waiting.)

Barista: *after several minutes* “GERM!”

(No one responds.)

Barista: “GERM! J-I-M, GERM!”

(I walk up to him, slightly discombobulated. He pushes the coffee into my hands.)

Barista: “Why the h*** didn’t you answer when I called the first time?”

Me: “I’ve never heard anyone say my name like that.”

Barista: “Well, how am I supposed to know how you say it?!”

Me: “You took my order, though. You heard me say it.”

Barista: “So?”

Me: “And you spelled it right on the cup.”

Barista: “So?!”

Me: “What did I say my name was?”

Barista: “Jim.”

Me: “And somehow, in the space of a few minutes, you forgot how to pronounce it?”

Barista: “It’s not my problem if you have an unpronounceable name.” *turns and works on the next order*

(I would have just ignored it and gotten on with my life, but I’m sure the guy was playing a game with me, as I’ve also used my full first name, to which he shouted, “Janine!” and when I gave him “Bob,” he shouted, “Burp!” I don’t go in there anymore, and the place looks a lot less crowded than it used to.)

(It is a Saturday night, and really quiet. A lady comes in five minutes before closing time on her cell phone. My manager and I are the only ones in, and my manager is preparing for our nine o’clock sales calls to all the stores in the district, so I go up to the customer.)

Me: *a little quietly, since the lady is on her phone* “Excuse me. I just wanted to let you know we’re closing in five minutes.”

Lady: “Oh, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

(She walks around for several minutes before finally getting off her phone.)

Me: “Can I help you find what you’re looking for?”

Lady: “Yes. My dog is really small and low to the ground, and I need a jacket for her, but I don’t want it to get wet with the dew on the grass.”

Me: “Oh, I know the perfect jackets. You’ll want something with this–” *I hold up a rain-jacket-type material* “–kind of material, so it won’t absorb the dew.”

Lady: “Oh, well, what about this one?”

(Holds up a woolen jacket that would absorb any moisture from the grass.)

Me: “Well, that will keep your dog warm, but you said her belly brushes against the grass, so that jacket will pick up the moisture and could become cold.”

(After showing her several more jackets, she finally picks one. My manager is watching as she does the sales calls and points to her watch. I nod, knowing that it’s past closing.)

Lady: “How can I make sure that this will fit my dog?”

Me: *giving the normal spiel for this question* “You can always take it home and try it on, and if it doesn’t fit, you can bring it back with the receipt and exchange it. We normally recommend bringing your dog in so we can try it on, and you don’t have to deal with coming back in multiple times and having to do many exchanges. We are open at ten am tomorrow morning, if you wish to wait and bring your dog in.”

(The lady then proceeded to take twenty minutes looking at the jackets. Every time I got her to pick one, she saw another and asked about it. We only had two or three styles that wouldn’t pick up moisture, so I was constantly repeating what I said about the material. Finally, my manager saw that I was beginning to grow impatient and stepped in while I finished the sales calls. The lady ended up making us half an hour late for closing for a $5.99 sale.)

(I am on my meal break. I get in line to buy my few lunch items behind an awesome coworker. Unfortunately, the lines are long. Soon, a customer begins to edge their way between my coworker and me.)

Customer: “I was already in line. I just left to look at something. The line hasn’t even moved.”

(I feel this is a breach of line etiquette, but, wearing my work uniform, I step aside to avoid seeming rude.)

Awesome Coworker: *to me* “Are you on your lunch?”

Me: “Yes.”

Awesome Coworker: “You can trade spots with me.”

(My awesome coworker then explains to the customer what every hourly worker knows: break time is limited and precious.)

Customer: *belatedly seeming embarrassed* “But wait. Are you on break, too? You can go ahead of me.”

Awesome Coworker: *passive-aggressively, though outwardly perfectly polite* “No, no, it’s fine.”

Customer: *muttering* “I wish someone had told me.”

Awesome Coworker: *a few minutes later in the break room, to me* “Ugh, that customer was terrible!”

Me: “Thank you so much! I didn’t realize you were on break, too. I assumed you traded with me because you were off!”

Awesome Coworker: “Nah, I just wanted to teach that customer good manners.”

Me: “You’re awesome.”