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.

I’m in an unfamiliar town and I’m trying to grab a coffee before I have to get back to the car. I walk past three busy coffee shops, all with queues stretching out the door. I carry on down the road and spot a little independent shop down a side road, and no queue! I head inside and it looks really quaint, but it’s nearly empty save one seated customer and the cashier, currently on her phone. 

Me: “Could I have a large—”

She puts her hand up to silence me. I wait and wait.

Me: “Can I have a large mocha, please?”

Cashier: *Sighs* “We’re out.”

Me: “Okay, err, a large cappuccino.”

Cashier: *Sighs* “Fine.”

I wasn’t finished ordering, but frankly, I am done with her. She makes the coffee and slams it down on the table, spilling it. She looks at me with a mix of expectation and attitude.

Me: “Are you going to tell me my total? The price isn’t listed.”

Cashier: “It’s [total].”

I pay cash and grab my coffee, and then she stops me.

Cashier: “Oh, yeah, fill this out. You can win a cake or [something].”

She gives me a feedback form.

Me: “Yeah, I will, actually, and don’t think I won’t make a comment about your crappy attitude.”

Cashier: “They don’t pay me to care.”

The shop wasn’t there the next time I visited. Such a shame so many independent places are disappearing, but in this case, I can’t blame the big corporate chains.

[Acquaintance] works at a school part-time; it’s not an easy job and not for everyone. But the problem is that [Acquaintance] has been told for so long by so many people how hard her job must be. Not only does she believe it, but she thinks no one has a harder job than she does. Half of her day is spent stood in a classroom not teaching but there just in case.

I’m at a gathering with several friends and acquaintances. The subject of jobs has come up, and we have all listened to her preach about what she does and how hard it is for some time.

One of [Acquaintance]’s friends tries to steer the conversation away.

Friend: *To me* “Didn’t you start a new job recently?”

Me: “Yes, actually, thanks for asking. It’s pretty cool. I’m working for a military contractor. Big budget, really small deadline. It’s stressful but I’m really enjoying it.”

Acquaintance: “Ha, stress. If you want stress, try teaching.”

Again [Acquaintance] isn’t a teacher.

Friend: “Well, I think a lot of jobs are stressful for different reasons. Wouldn’t you say, [My Name]?”

Me: “Sure, I mean my job can be stressful just by what’s at stake.”

Acquaintance: “Yeah, well, okay, but we are talking about the next generation, shaping future minds.”

Friend: “Look. I love you, but seriously, it’s not all about you. And besides, you help out, not teach, and by what you’ve been saying for the last half-hour, it’s mostly playing games.”

Acquaintance: “I can’t believe this.”

She looks around for validation but finds none.

Acquaintance: “Fine! I can’t believe you lot. No respect for us hard-working, underpaid teachers.”

She storms off. A guy I’ve not met before chimes in.

Guy: “We are underpaid and undervalued, but she is completely nuts.”

Turned out the guy was a teacher, working with children with additional needs. Super guy, really humble and down to earth. We stayed in touch for years after.

I saw a pair of shorts in a shop window for dirt cheap, but it was Sunday, so the shop was closed. When I went back the next day, I found the owners, an old couple, standing right by the door, which I thought was perfect because I didn’t have to go in and could just point at the item. I stood near the door and called out, and the male owner came up to me.

Me: “Hi, this pair of shorts you have here?” *Pointing* “What size are they?”

Male Owner: “It’s [price]. It’s for a double bed.”

Realising he thinks I mean the bed sheet that is currently placed in front of the window, obscuring the view of the pair of shorts, I try again.

Me: “No, no, the shorts!”

I gesture with my hands near my knees where the shorts would normally end.

Female Owner: “Shorts, [Male Owner]! He wants shorts!”

Me: “Yeah, shorts — these ones behind here. What size are they?”

Male Owner: “No.”

Thinking he’s maybe hard of hearing and having trouble understanding me because of the mask I’m wearing, I go a little slower and a little clearer.

Me: “What size are they? Are they a small, medium, large?”

Male Owner: “No!”

Me: *Now baffled* “No?”

Male Owner: “No.”

Me: “Okay.” *Walks off*

I wonder how much they normally sell at that shop.

At my high school, all juniors — sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds for non-Americans — have to take Physics. Both the honors and regular courses have the exact same final project: build a working model roller coaster and do your best to “sell it” to your classmates during your presentation.

For this project, we are supposed to make our own groups of either three or four people. No more, no less. Of course, I immediately partner up with the one close friend I have in my class period, but we still need a third. That third ends up being a girl we are somewhat acquainted with that no one else seems to want in their group. This should be our first red flag regarding her, but we don’t have a choice regardless.

Initially, things go fairly well as we’re given class time here and there to plan out our schematic and theme. It’s at this point that we get our second red flag: we both notice that our third member isn’t super engaged. This is especially true with the math-based parts of the schematic that we have to include as part of our grade, but we shrug it off because the two of us are doing well in the class and it isn’t especially hard.

Fast forward until about two weeks before everything is due. We start planning out-of-school meetings to gather supplies and start building. After we section off who’s buying what, we struggle to figure out where we can meet that’ll have the room we need.

Groupmate: “Hey, maybe I can ask my Grandma if we can go to hers on Saturday? She lives just around the corner from here.”

Friend: “Works for me.”

Me: “Yeah, same.”

However, that Friday evening, she shoots us a text.

Groupmate: “Sorry, my gram’s in the hospital and we’ll all be there with her all day tomorrow so we can’t meet.”

Me: “Oh, heck. That’s fine. Hope she’s all right!”

I immediately call my friend because we can really only meet on weekends due to conflicting extracurriculars, and we only have two of those weekends left. After she manages to pull some strings to get a back room reserved for us at her family’s church, we ultimately decide to just bite the bullet and have the two of us meet anyway to at least start on the model.

While we’re building up our base, we take a small break and my friend checks her phone. After a few minutes, she starts scowling before turning to me.

Friend: “Holy s***, [My Name], check [Groupmate]’s Snapchat story.”

Apparently, our groupmate forgot she had us both added on social media because she has posted several pictures of her looking as happy as can be in a brand new car that was apparently a belated birthday present from her parents. Of course, we’re both fuming, but there isn’t much we can do at this point. 

We eventually decide to just work through the day to get as much of the model done as possible. We debate having our third member create the presentation on her own time, but we decide it isn’t worth the risk since we know she has pretty abysmal knowledge of what we are doing at this point.

Monday morning, the two of us hunt down our Physics teacher. We both explain to her what’s going on and show her both the text our groupmate sent, as well as the proof of what she was actually up to that day. 

Teacher: “Hm, unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do right now. Y’all aren’t finished with your coaster yet, right?”

Me: “No, we were going to try and finish it up Friday, and we still have the whole presentation to make.”

Teacher: “Okay, let me know if she doesn’t help out then. We’re also going to do group member evaluations after presentations are over, so make sure you’re both honest on those and I’ll keep them in mind when grading. I’ll make sure you two don’t suffer if she doesn’t end up doing anything because I absolutely remember exactly how crappy that felt when I was in school.”

And, what do you know, she ends up flaking on us again by not only completely ignoring our texts but also by not even coming to school Friday. We end up finishing the project on our own that evening.

Friend: “I’m going to be honest: I hope she skips again the day we present. She’s going to ruin the whole f****** presentation if she has to do it with us.”

Me: “No kidding. She literally doesn’t know s***. I might actually ask [Teacher] about that if she does show up.”

The day finally came to present and we did just that. We were informed that our third member would, unfortunately, have to present with us; however, by the grace of the gods, she did end up skipping that day, probably knowing just how screwed she’d be if she did show up. 

Despite our two-man show, we ended up not only killing our presentation but also winning the first round of voting for the competition the Physics teachers set up for bonus points. We were also brutally honest on our group member evaluations about our third member. When it was all said and done, my friend and I got scores in the high nineties. Neither of us know exactly what score the other girl ended up getting, but we did find out later from a mutual friend that she failed the class and had to go to credit recovery that following summer.