I get a phone call.

Automated Message: “This is Amazon shopping, and an order starting with AMZ for $1,100 for an iPhone has been charged to your account. We suspect fraud. Press one to speak to an agent.”

I press one.

Agent: “How can I help you?”

Me: “You called me.”

Agent: “Oh, yes. We show your account was charged $1,100 for an iPhone.”

Me: “Oh, yeah? What’s my name?”

Agent: “What?”

Me: “If my account has been compromised, what’s my name?”

Agent: *Click*

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I once had a math professor who was very invested in the “whole package” philosophy of teaching — so much so that his students were required to write essays and give presentations on things related to math, and we were strictly graded on things like punctuation and grammar, not just content. Many of us learned to be very careful and double- and triple-check anything we turned in because we didn’t want to have points taken off. We would often trade papers for proofreading if it wasn’t an exam situation.

One day, I was taking one of this professor’s exams and noticed a misspelling in a word problem. He had misspelled balloon as ‘baloon,’ and because our exam was handwritten on mimeograph paper and not printed from a word processor, there was no spell check to save him. Because I was hyper-aware of those types of mistakes in his class, I reflexively circled the misspelling while reading the problem and continued on with the exam.

To his credit, when returning the exams to us, he confessed that he had indeed made a spelling error on the exam and that he felt it was only fair that he award extra credit to everyone who pointed it out. It turned out that more than half the class had done as I had and marked the misspelling because he had instilled that attention to detail into us so thoroughly.

I take a job across the country. As luck would have it, my new boss, three other employees, and I all live close together so we can share the costs of traveling. That works out well for nine months and goes downhill from there. We have arguments every morning and get told off every evening. What really annoys me is that the boss is never on time! Waiting in the dark and rain dreading the car journey is a nightmare.

Eventually, I have enough and get one of the guys to one side.

Me: “Listen, the car share is a nightmare.”

Coworker: “I know, but I don’t want to drive myself.”

Me: “How about you and I car share. I drive one week, you drive the next? That way, it’s half the miles we are putting on the car. He lays into you the worst. You can’t be happy.”

The first week is great. I drive every day and am on time each morning. We don’t talk about work, and we make sure to leave on time in the afternoon. The next week, [Coworker] has some car problems, apparently, which means I have to drive. The third week is apparently “my turn,” so I drive again. The Friday before [Coworker] is supposed to drive, I speak to him.

Me: “Listen, the whole point of us taking turns driving was so that we didn’t put as many miles on our cars. Are you going to drive or not?”

Coworker: “I don’t want to. I could pay you for petrol?”

Me: “No, the whole agreement was to take turns driving. If you’re not going to do your bit, you can carpool with [Boss].”

Coworker: “Well, maybe I will!”

I drove myself for another six months. I saw [Coworker] in tears many mornings, but he refused to just drive with me. He quit six months after that.

Years ago, I worked at a busy, corporate sit-down burger restaurant. One day, I’m hustling through the lunch rush, and I have six college guys sit down. One guy flags me over right away.

Customer: *Loudly* “We’re ready to order!”

Me: “What are you guys having?”

Customer: *Smirking* “Guys? Guys? That doesn’t sound like a very professional greeting to me. I work at a restaurant, too, and if I walked up to a table and asked, ‘What are you guys having?’ my manager would definitely let me know that was inappropriate.”

The other guys at the table look kind of uncomfortable at this exchange and just silently sit there. The main guy looks around at all of them and keeps going.

Customer: “Why don’t you come up to us again and do it right?”

I’m looking around at my massive section of tables and getting the distinct feeling I’m going to be at this table forever. I’m trying not to lose my cool, so I smile.

Me: “Sure.”

I take several steps back and walk up again.

Me: “Gentlemen, how are you all doing? Ready to order?”

The main guy smirks and nods. I look directly at him.

Me: “How about you, chief? What are you having today?”

Some of the other guys laugh. He looks angrily at me but orders his burger and a drink. I get everyone’s order and hustle off.

I return with drinks a little while later. I set everyone’s drinks down and do the main guy last.

Me: “Here you go, boss.”

I leave before he can say anything. Through the course of their meal, I call him a different nickname every time.

Me: “You need a refill, pal?”

Me: “How’s your burger, buddy?”

Me: “Need more ketchup, bro?”

Me: “Can I get that plate out of your way, dude?”

Me: “Any dessert for you, amigo?”

Me: “Need me to split your check, brother?”

Me: “Make sure to leave me one signed copy, muchacho.”

By this time, this guy is boiling. His friends are loving it, though. As time has gone on, the rest of them keep looking at me expectantly. What nickname next?

Finally, they all get up to leave. The lunch rush has ended and I’m chilling at this point. I casually walk up to them.

Me: “Thank you, gentlemen, for coming in.”

The rest of the group is smiling. I look at the main guy.

Me: “And you… you have a fantastic day… hoss.”

The rest of the guys cheered. They all headed out. I grabbed all their receipts on the table. Surprise, surprise, the main guy left me zero for a tip. I didn’t care. It was all worth it.

A customer has come in who I refer to as the “freebie guy.” He basically comes in once a month during matinee hours, spends $5 on a ticket, and then demands you give him free food at the concession stand because he’s “spending so much of [his] money on tickets.” We tell him every time that he can’t have free concessions, but it doesn’t stop him.

I decide to have a little fun with him one day. We offer free jalapenos for our nachos at the concession stand.

Freebie Guy: “Give me something for free! What can you give me for free? I just spent a lot of money on my ticket!”

Me: *With a giant smile* “You know, we actually do have something I can give you today for free! Do you want it?”

His eyes widen in excitement, as this is the first time his ruse appears to have worked.

Freebie Guy: “Yes! Absolutely!”

I run into the back and come back with a big bowl full of jalapeños.

Me: “Here you go!”

Immediately, his excitement fades.

Freebie Guy: “What the h*** is that?”

Me: “Jalapeños! It’s the only thing we have for free now.”

Freebie Guy: “Just jalapeños?”

Me: “Yup! Jalapeños! We finally found something we could give you for free!”

He seems to have some sort of internal debate with himself. Finally, he picks up the bowl.

Freebie Guy: “Um… do you have a spoon?”

Me: “Nope!”

He slowly walked away from the stand looking utterly confused. A few minutes later, I saw him throwing away the bowl of jalapeños, and he stormed up to the concession stand and bought a drink because his mouth was burning from actually trying to eat them. I consider this to be a big win, and he hasn’t tried his “Give me free stuff!” schtick ever since.