(I work customer service at a grocery store. One night, a girl who looks to be in her mid-20s comes up to the counter and asks for a job application. I hand it to her and have the following conversation.)

Girl: “Thanks. I really, really need to find a job. Can I borrow a pen and fill this out now? I really need to find a job right now, any job. I’m desperate.”

Me: “Well, I don’t know what to tell you about all departments, but I do know that the deli is hiring right now.”

Girl: *drops the pen in horror* “The deli?! I can’t work in the deli! No way!”

(She turns and runs out of the store. Behind me, the deli supervisor breaks out laughing.)

Me: “Guess she didn’t really, really need a job that badly, after all.”

(Coincidentally, a job in another department opened up next day, but since she hadn’t bothered to fill out the application, she never knew.)

(I work in a bulk grocery store that caters mostly to the foodservice and restaurant industry. Our company has recently undergone a “rebranding” and, as such, a lot of our product packaging has been changed. The following happens after a customer inquires about one of those items.)

Customer: “Excuse me, sir? Do you all still carry the already-made mashed potatoes in the six-pound tubs?”

Me: “Sure do! They’re right over here.”

(I escort her to the product and explain to her that it’s now packaged differently.)

Customer: “Oh, that’s not what I’m looking for. Do you have the ones in the tubs?”

Me: “No, ma’am. They’ve changed to a new packaging, so they’re now in these five-pound pouches instead of the tubs. It’s still the same product, though.”

Customer: *after looking the product over* “Hmm… Well, do you have any tubs left over in the back?”

Me: “I’m afraid not. The changeover happened about six months ago, so the tubs are long gone. The pouches are all we have anymore.”

Customer: *looks the product over even more before handing it back to me* “Well, thanks, but no. I’ll come back some other time and see if you have more tubs.”

Me: *face-palm*

(I call in to my job as a certified nursing assistant at a nursing home. It is 2009.)

Me: “Hey, I can’t come in today because I have a fever of 104 and other flu symptoms.”

Nurse #1: “I can’t let you call in unless you come here and have a nurse take your temperature.”

Me: “What? I live 15 miles away. My fever is really high and I have really bad cold chills.”

Nurse #1: “You’ll probably get fired if you don’t come and let us take your temperature.”

(I drive the 15 miles to let them take my temperature. At this point, I’m almost hallucinating from the fever.)

Nurse #1: “Oh, your fever is 105 now.” *to other nurse* “Should she go home? We are kind of short today.”

Nurse #2: “I don’t know. She could probably work.”

(I then collapse onto the chair, barely hearing them in a fever haze.)

Nurse #1: “Well, maybe she should go home?”

Nurse #2: “I guess so.” *to me* “You can go home, I guess. But get a doctor’s note.”

(I then drove home, barely coherent. After going to the doctor I found out that I had SWINE FLU, or H1N1. And they wanted me to come to work, endangering both myself and the elderly residents! I quit a few months later.)

(A customer is freaking out in the men’s bathroom, slamming the stall door, and I have to go tell him to leave since I am the only guy working.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: *spills his water* “Uh, sorry, what did you say?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir; you have to leave. You’re damaging property and you’re scaring the customers.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m schizophrenic and I… I just have these episodes.”

Me: “It’s fine, man; I understand, but you still have to leave.”

(The customer leaves, and I go back to the bathroom to see how big of a mess he made, but most of the water has evaporated. He left his phone charger and case on the floor, though, so I give them back to my manager and she holds onto them. The customer comes back in and bolts for the bathroom.)

Me: “Sir, you can’t go back in there. You need to leave now.”

Customer: “Yeah, I just, uh, forgot something in the bathroom.”

Manager: *brings him his stuff* “You have to leave now, sir, or I’m calling the cops.”

Customer: *very panicked* “Okay, okay. I’m leaving.”

(I head back into the bathroom, and I don’t know how I missed it, but there is a little baggie on the floor with some paper folded up in it. I unwrap it, and there is a brownish powder in it. I take it to my manager.)

Me: “So… I found this in the bathroom. What is it?”

Manager: “Well, that explains a lot. It’s meth.”

(An online order to pick up in store comes in. My manager goes to check it. Traffic is slow at the moment. I am 4’11” tall.)

Manager: *sighs* “That’s a heavy piece of furniture; I’m going to need help to get it to the loading bay door.”

Me: “I can give you a hand if you like.”

Manager: “Thanks, but I need something higher.”

(Later, I’m replacing a large basket on the top shelf of one of our displays.)

Me: “[Manager], help! I’m not high enough!”