(I’m a cashier at a fast food place. If our registers sit idle for too long, they turn off and you have to go through the sign-in process again, which can be lengthy sometimes. To get around this, we pull up a menu of recent transactions, which keeps the register on. Today, our corporate rep — my boss’s boss — is in the building. Right before she leaves, she walks past my register and sees the menu open.)

Rep: “What’s this on the screen?”

Manager: “Oh, that’s the recent transactions list. We pull it up in between orders because the system shuts off after being left alone for too long, and as long as that menu’s open it stays on.”

Rep: “Well, you should be placing orders so often that it doesn’t need to be open at all.”

(With that, she smiles and leaves. I look at our empty restaurant and then notice the timestamp on the most recent order: about 20 minutes ago.)

Me: *to my manager* “Did she really just say that?”

Manager: “I try to tune her out. A few minutes ago she was saying something about being out of [an item we have literally never sold]. We tried to tell her we don’t sell that but she wouldn’t listen to us. She’s coming back tomorrow to make sure we have it, which won’t do any good, anyway, because we don’t get a delivery for four more days.”

Me: “…”

Manager: “I’m going for a smoke break.”

I’m a preschool teacher working at a screening. This means we are testing preschool-age children to see if they qualify for our public preschool program.

Part of the testing asks the children to stand on one leg. I’m working with a little girl and tell her, “Now, stand on one foot, please,” while also demonstrating for her.

She gives me a confused face. Then, she slowly walks toward me and stands on my foot. I guess I needed to be more specific about which foot to stand on!

(I’m driving on the interstate early in the morning with my wife, and our two children are in the backseat. We see a sign for a fast food restaurant which serves breakfast a few miles ahead. My wife and I decide we each want a sausage biscuit with coffee and the kids just want an orange juice each. I pull off the highway to the drive-thru intercom which has an order display to “ensure accuracy.”)

Intercom: “Good morning. What would you like?”

Me: “I’ll have two sausage biscuits, two coffees, and two orange juices, please.”

(The order display correctly shows my order until I order the two orange juices; the display then removes the two coffees from the order and adds the two orange juices.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but the coffees were dropped off the order. Could you put those back?

Intercom: “Yes, sir.”

(The order display shows the two orange juices dropped off and two coffees added.)

Me: “The orange juices dropped off the order! Please put those back!”

Intercom: “You want the orange juices with the order?”

Me: “Yes!”

(The order display shows the two coffees dropped off and two orange juices added.)

Me: “I still want the coffees. Could I have those with my order?”

Intercom: “You want the coffees with the order?”

Me: “YES!”

(The order display shows the two orange juices dropped off and two coffees added.)

Me: “Don’t remove the orange juices! I want those on the order!”

Intercom: “The orange juices cost more, sir.”

Me: “I understand that; put them back on the order!”

(The order display shows the two coffees dropped off and two orange juices added.)

Me: “Keep the coffees on the order, please!”

(The order display shows the two orange juices dropped off and two coffees added.)

Me: “Please put the orange juices back on the order!”

Intercom: “But the orange juices cost more, sir.”

Me: “I know! Please put the orange juices back on the order!”

Intercom: “Sir, please drive forward and my manager will explain it to you.”

Wife: “Please just pay for whatever they give us and leave!”

(I pulled up to the window and, sure enough, the manager was also at the window to “explain it to me.” I paid without saying a word; if I had opened my mouth at that point, I’m sure I would have screamed some things the kids should not hear at their ages.)

(It’s the day after my eighteenth birthday. I’m out with a friend when I remember I have to go to the ATM, so we stop at a gas station. My friend, who is nineteen, asks me if I’ll grab him a pack of cigarettes and he’ll pay me back later. I agree, and I walk in and get my money from the ATM, then grab a drink and a bag of chips. I approach the counter, ID in hand.)

Me: “Just this and a pack of [Brand].”

Cashier: “ID, please?”

Me: “Of course. Here you are.”

(He examines my ID for a second, looks at his watch, looks at the calendar, and then looks at me before looking at his watch again. He hands me my ID, then puts my drink and chips behind the counter.)

Cashier: “Get out. You can come back next week.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Cashier: “Next week, man.”

Me: “I’m of legal age to buy those.”

Cashier: “Next week.”

Me: “What? No. I’m eighteen; I turned eighteen yesterday.”

Cashier: “Next week, buddy.”

Me: “Okay, well, can I at least buy my chips?”

Cashier: “Next week.”

Me: “But—”

Cashier: “Next week.”

(I walk out, kind of pissed off about the whole situation.)

Friend: “Did you get my smokes?”

Me: “Uh, no. The guy told me to leave.”

Friend: “You showed him your license, right?”

Me: “Yeah, but he just kept saying to come back next week.”

Friend: “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll get them eventually.”

(Same day, different gas station, I bought the cigarettes no problem. I’d stop going to that gas station if it wasn’t the closest to my house.)

(While I used to live with my parents, they moved away a couple of years ago. My husband and I remain in the house. The phone rings, and the caller ID shows a local number. I answer on the off chance it isn’t a scammer.)

Me: “Hello?”

Scammer: “Hi, this is [Scammer] calling from Medicare.”

Me: “No one here qualifies for Medicare.”

Scammer: “Oh, no, no, no. I’m calling for [Mother]!”

(This is still fairly common, even though it’s been almost three years since my mother has lived here. However, my mother doesn’t qualify for Medicare yet, either. I throw out the line that usually ends these spam calls.)

Me: “She no longer lives here.”

Scammer: *yelling* “You mean she died?!”

Me: “Uh, no. She moved. Like, to a different place?”

Scammer: “Oh! Yes, that’s right!”

Me: “Yeah, so this is the wrong—“

Scammer: “I’m good friends with her!”

(I’m shocked at how far from normal this is, and frankly, more than a bit amused. I decide to humor the guy a bit.)

Me: “Oh, you are?”

Scammer: “Yes, we’ve been friends for fifteen years. I was just pranking you.”

Me: “Is that so?”

Scammer: “I knew she wasn’t dead. It was a prank when I asked you if she died.”

Me: “Well, that’s… different.”

Scammer: “Yes, we are very, very close friends.”

Me: “Good, that’s nice to hear.”

Scammer: “Sooo… do you have her new number?”

Me: “Nope!”

Scammer: “Oh. Well, bye!”

(I texted my mom to let her know that her very good friend [Scammer] from Medicare called to check on her. She didn’t find it as amusing as I did.)