I am shopping at a local grocery store and I’m in the canned food aisle grabbing a couple of cans of corned beef hash. A woman who appears to be in her mid-seventies stops and stares at me as I put the cans in my basket.

Woman: “Ugh. How can you eat that stuff?”

I look her right in the eye.

Me: “Usually with a fork, but if all my forks are in the dishwasher, a spoon works just fine.”

She goes from disgusted to offended in a split second and starts to sputter out something, but I interrupt her.

Me: “Ask a stupid question, get a smarta** answer.”

I am a volunteer vaccine marshall. My colleagues work hard to make sure as many people are vaccinated as quickly and smoothly as possible. We do almost every part of the process except check the patients in when they arrive and actually inject the vaccine.

Today, we have both of the vaccines currently offered by the NHS. One is preferred by most of those who have read about it. I agree it’s the superior vaccine, as do most experts, but either will keep you safe. My job today is to take people from the waiting room to a vaccination room, so I actually get to decide who gets which vaccine. But I have been told that individuals don’t get to choose; they should take whichever vaccine they are offered.

Because I want to be fair, I decide on a rule of how to direct the patients into the two vaccination rooms, so I am not actually making that decision; it’s random depending on when you come to the front of the queue. People go to whichever room has a space. If both rooms have a space, then I direct the patients to the “better” vaccine room until it’s full again, and then the next patients go to the other room. 

While both rooms are fully occupied, I hear a man go to the doctor working check-in and have an increasingly animated discussion with him about why he should get the “better” vaccine. The doctor is stoic, never admitting there are two being offered today, and not allowing him to choose. Meanwhile, as the argument continues, spaces open in his preferred vaccine room. I fill them according to my rules. When the argumentative man finally gives up arguing and joins those in the waiting area, I pick him out when his turn comes up and send him to the only room that is accepting patients at that moment, which is not the vaccine he wanted. 

If I hadn’t spent so long arguing for the other vaccine, he would have got it!

My well-to-do aunt has ended up in the hospital. I’m the only family member who lives in the same city as her, so I step in to help her in every way I can. She has given me $500 to buy anything she needs, so I’m in a high-end clothing store holding a pair of men’s pyjamas pants — the only thing that will fit over the cast she has on her foot.

There is a man at the counter being served with a very complicated order. The woman helping him has to open a mountain of packages individually and scan the contents. Another man is standing in line and a woman comes off the floor to help him. He pays quickly and leaves, but so does the woman who helped him. I had taken his spot next in line, and it’s late at night so the man at the counter and I are the only two customers in the store, so it’s obvious that I’m ready to pay and go.

The floor woman floats back and forth from the floor to behind the counter, very careful to not make eye contact with me. I wait for far too long, and the sixth time she goes behind the counter and walks away again, I drop the pyjamas, making her look over at the sudden movement. When she looks over at me, I scoop up my planned purchase, lock eyes with her, and take two big steps to stand in front of the counter where she’d helped the other man.

With a rather discreet eye roll, she steps back behind the counter and takes the pants to scan them, but I walk away — past the first woman still working on the complicated order, who looks so apologetic, even though none of the events were her fault.

I go across the road to a lower-end store and buy a similar pair, pulling off the tagging and “losing” the receipt so my aunt doesn’t know it is a cheaper brand.

To be honest, I came from work, so I wasn’t dressed to the level that might be expected in that store, but I make some decent cash myself and have been known to shop there for my needs. I find it amusing to Pretty Woman them sometimes, standing in jeans and a band shirt and dropping $5,000 for some stuff I want, but I was stressed with my aunt’s injuries and wasn’t going to put up with their attitude this time.

This is before cell phones were a thing. It’s before email, as well, so a lot of business is done over the phone. Call waiting exists but is expensive, so two phones for one desk are not unusual.

Me: “Hello, can I speak to [Employee], please?”

[Supplier] on the phone speaks with a strange intonation, which I later make out to be between seething and laughing.

Supplier: “[Employee] is no longer working for [Company].”

Me: “Oh, did she leave? I spoke to her yesterday and she didn’t mention it.”

Supplier: “That is because she didn’t know it then.”

Yep, definitely an edge in her voice.

Me: “Oh. Well, I…”

Supplier: “Yeah, you see, she has a boyfriend, and I suspect he is married, and she calls him at the office. It is the first call she makes every day and the last, and in between again a few times. They are long as well, which means I have to do her job on top of mine while she has sickening dialogs with her boyfriend.”

Me: “Not nice, indeed.”

Supplier: “So, yesterday, I got fed up with it. I had a phone call and another on the second extension, and then her phone started ringing which she ignored whilst continuing to exchange sweet talk with her sweetheart, and it became too much, so I jumped up and disconnected the call. She became mad, jumped up, as well, and slapped me in the face.”

Me: “Oops.”

Supplier: “The best part was that one of the higher-ups just passed by and wanted to know what happened. So, we were called to the office, we told our side of things, I got a faint slap on the wrist, and she was sent packing.”

Me: “But now you need to do all the work.”

Supplier: “Not a problem. I am used to it anyway, and now, as a bonus, I don’t need to listen to her phone sex anymore. And they are going to replace her! So, what can I do for you today?”

One day at our Tribal Casino, an Idiot Guest discovered he had to go visit the restroom. In a stroke of absolute brilliance, he flagged down a lady to watch his machine. [Idiot Guest] is so named because instead of asking staff, who wear a very obvious staff uniform, he asked a complete stranger to watch a machine that had $600 of his own money on it.

Can you guess what happened? If you guessed that she cashed it out onto a ticket and left, you get a cookie!

There was a whole fiasco. The floor manager told him that he was an idiot. Security told him that he was an idiot. The cage girl told him that he was an idiot. Thus, his name was coined.

They reprinted his ticket after checking the cameras to verify that it was stolen, he got his money, and all was well. Personally, I think they should have let [Idiot Guest] learn the expensive lesson the hard way… but wishful thinking is wishful.

In any case, the plot spun on its axis. Guess what happened next?! If you guessed that our Thieving Lady came back, here’s another cookie!

Not even four freaking hours later, she sauntered in with the ticket to cash it out! That’s right! She took the ticket out but left without cashing out the money right away! So now she had a paid out ticket, with staff still on duty who remember the fiasco that came from this.

In short, the cage girl realized that the ticket had already been paid out and realized who [Thieving Lady] was. The Tribal Police were promptly called.

This woman’s picture is now up in every casino owned by the nation, and she is no longer a “valued guest.” Simple terms? She’s banned from our casinos for life!