I’m allergic to banana, which is a common thickener in a lot of cold, blended drinks. I happen to frequent an ice cream shop that also makes smoothies. I love one smoothie in particular, but I hate ordering it. 

Employee: “Good afternoon! What can I get for you?”

Me: “Can I get a large Sunrise Smoothie, please? Also, I’m allergic to bananas, so I need the blender cup washed before you make it.”

The employee nods and picks up a blender cup from the storage sink with running water where they store the cups between customers to rinse them out. I think he’s about to go wash it in the larger sink with soap, but he just dries it off with a clean towel and heads toward the blending station.

Me: “Excuse me, I really need that washed with soap, not just rinsed off. You use fresh banana in all your smoothies except the Sunrise, and I can not have banana.”

Employee: “It’s all good. This one’s been sitting in the rinser for like, half an hour. “

Me: “It’s really not okay. I don’t want to go to the emergency room today. Either wash the blender or cancel my order.”

He just stood there looking like I was an idiot, so I left. I never went back to that location, and I haven’t had a smoothie since. What is it with people and thinking they know your body better than you?

I work in a hotel and handle the night auditing. I recently had a rather irritating situation, though that has thankfully resolved itself.

I have only been working at this particular hotel for approximately three months, and since I work from 11:00 pm to 7:00 am, I am on shift when the [Breakfast Bar Girl] arrives. 

It’s 1:00 am when the phone rings, which is a little unusual.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel], this is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Breakfast Bar Girl: *Slurring* “Hey, it’s [Breakfast Bar Girl].” *Giggles* “I’m really sick and won’t be in in the morning, but you should be able to cover the breakfast, right?” *Giggles some more*

Me: “No, I can’t. You’re supposed to notify the manager. Do you have a pen so you can take down her number?”

Breakfast Bar Girl: “Nooooo.” *Laughs and then pauses for a long time* “Why do I have to call her?”

Me: “Uh, because she has to come in and cover your shift or approve the overtime for me to wait until another manager comes in.”

Breakfast Bar Girl: “Well, can’t you call her? I can’t call her. You have to.”

She giggled again and hung up.

I was ready to jump through the phone and shake her. Her shift started at 5:30, and she was clearly drunk, and, by the sounds of it, having a good time with someone. I messaged the manager about her calling out, and he confirmed it.

Well, apparently, after calling out with the giggle illness, she came in to work anyway. The poor guy at the desk who had to replace me also reported to the manager that she was swaying and falling over a lot. 

The breakfast food was 90% gone before he realized he hadn’t seen her restock in a while and went to check. She had swayed her way into the pantry, shut the door behind her, and promptly passed out on the floor, where the front desk guy found her.

She mumbled refusals to wake up and slapped drunkenly at people who tried to shake her, and it took a glass of ice water to the face to bring her shrieking to awareness. She found herself looking at the front desk guy and a scowling manager with the empty glass in hand.

She slurred, “I kwuh… I quite… I, um, I quit,” and walked out.

An anonymous call to the police was made about a drunken driver on the road the instant her car started moving.

I just started a new job in a lab and picked up the work quickly. After a few months, I’m introduced to [Coworker], an old guy who has been with the company for decades. I’ve never had much to do with [Coworker]; he does whatever he has to do, away in the corner.

It turns out much of the work in the lab has changed dramatically in the last ten years, and [Coworker] just can’t keep up. They keep him on to work some of the older machines and that’s all he does. [Coworker] is taking a holiday and they ask me to try to learn how to do the basics of his work before he leaves.

It turns out that [Coworker] is a bitter old technophobe. Any discussion or any mention of anything new in the past twenty years is met with derision. He has nothing good to say about anyone or anything. Whenever his PC throws up an error message (by his doing), he complains and mocks “how great modern technology is.”

The training is painfully slow. I sit in silence for most of the week. Eventually, it is over and [Coworker] goes on holiday.

Boss: “If you need any help on [Coworker’s machine], let me know and we can go through it together.”

Me: “Oh, thanks. But I’m finished.”

Boss: “Already? Well, you can make a start on the work pending after your break.”

Me: “I did that, too. I was going to ask, is there much more for today? I can go back to my normal job, otherwise.”

Boss: *Pauses* “No, that was the work for the week.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Slow week, I guess.”

Boss: “Can you show me how you did it? Not that I don’t believe you.”

Me: “Err… sure.”

I show him how I used the machine, just like I was trained. He runs a few through tasks himself and gets the same results.

Boss: “Keep this between you and me, but this work normally takes a full week, and you did it in a few hours. But [Coworker] only has two more months at the company. “

Me: “Okay, I get it.”

[Coworker] came back, and the first thing he asked was if I’d broken the machine; the youth of today don’t listen so he would have to recheck everything. My boss stopped him there and let him know that I had done a great job and would be taking over full-time after he retired.

More negativity and derision.

Thankfully, a few months later, he retired, but not before one last act of pettiness: he took the books and notes for the old machines. Luckily, my notes were more than enough, and the machines were replaced a year later, anyway.

I need the medical history of my vaccinations for education reasons. For a variety of other reasons, I do not have access to this yellow card that already has my history, so I call my doctor’s office. 

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name]. I’m a patient of [Doctor]. I’m just calling to ask if I could get a copy of my vaccination history.”

Receptionist #1: “Your what?”

Me: “Oh, uh, my medical history?”

Receptionist #1: “Why do you need that?”

Me: “I began going to university and I need that information to prove I’ve been vaccinated. Can you guys possibly email it, or do I have to come down?”

Receptionist #1: “Uhhh, hold on.”

Eight minutes later:

Receptionist #1: “Do you have a fax machine?”

Me: “Unfortunately, no.”

Receptionist #1: “Then you have to come down to the office. It should be a quick visit.”

I make the appointment and go to their office. My mom and I already visited within the last few weeks. It was the start of a new year and insurance updating was already done. My mom got a misprint of her insurance card and went through a big hassle of getting their office to understand that the number on her card was right but the doctor’s name was wrong. I’m under her insurance as a dependent. After this confusion and debacle, the insurance company didn’t want to give my mom more than one properly fixed card, so she gave me the misprint.

I get to the office and they give me the usual forms to fill out and then ask for the card. I’m dealing with the person who I KNOW my mom dealt with last time, because he’s the only male receptionist among the other three women.

Me: “Just a reminder, the info on that card is inaccurate. The doctor’s name is [Doctor] but the number is right.”

Receptionist #2: “Uh-huh.”

Approximately ten minutes later:

Receptionist #2: “Miss! Your information is wrong!”

Me: “Yes, I know. I told you that already. It’s [proper information].”

He only looks from me to the card without even glancing at the computer.

Receptionist #2: “No, I don’t think so. This is wrong. Do you have another card?”

Me: “No, I do not. Is it possible for you to just pull up my file or my mom’s?”

Receptionist #2: “No. That’ll be $45 for today’s visit.”

Me: “What? I’m here to ask for my own medical history. Why is it so high?”

Receptionist #2: “Because you don’t have insurance.”

I was literally in this office a few weeks ago.

Me: “You know what? Can you please just pull up my mom’s file? Her name is [Mom]. We have the same insurance information and hers is the correct one; it’s the same number.”

The receptionist makes a weird face at me and then flicks his hand in an indication for me to go sit down.

About fifteen minutes later:

Receptionist #2: “Okay, fine. Your copay is just $15 dollars.”

I pay it and then go sit down to wait. Twenty minutes pass. I’m finally called in and they insist I be weighed. Disclaimer, I’m fat, and my weight hasn’t been under 180 pounds for years, and this office uses the old fashioned scale that has a weight and a balance slidey thing. As I’m being weighed, the nurse, who I’ve also seen for years, starts off on 160 before slowly moving the slider higher. Every time she does, she goes, “Oh, wow,” over and over again until we get to my actual weight. She then refuses to measure my height, despite that being the usual thing I’ve done for the last fifteen-plus years coming to this office.

I’m finally taken to a room and told to wait for the doctor. Ten or fifteen minutes later, someone finally comes in.

Nurse: “So, you’re here today to get your vaccine shots?”

Me: “What? No. I’m here for my vaccination history.”

Nurse: “Huh? Why didn’t you just call us?”

Me: “I did. You guys told me that because I don’t have a fax machine that I had to come down.”

The nurse looks back and forth from her chart to me before eyeing me suspiciously.

Nurse: “And what do you need this information for?”

Me: “I got into university and they want my vaccine history.”

Nurse: “Oooookay… Wait here.”

She leaves and I wait another ten minutes or so before she returns.

Nurse: “Can you email us the form you have to fill out?”

Me: “Uhh, it’s not a proper form? I just log into the school’s website, and on my profile, it gives me a prompt to fill it out. I took pictures of all the questions on my phone here.”

I show her the pictures.

Nurse: “Hmm… Are you sure there’s no other form?”

Me: “Absolutely.”

This time, she doesn’t say anything before she leaves the room and then comes back a few minutes later.

Nurse: “Okay, can you email us these pictures?”

I get that done and wait another ten minutes. 

Nurse: “All right, so do you have the yellow card?”

Me: “No, I don’t have access to it.” 

Nurse: “What?!”

I’m surprised at the suddenly loud and very shocked tone of her voice. She’s been monotone and suspicious this whole time.

Me: “I don’t have access to it. Things are complicated at home and I don’t have access to it.”

Nurse: “Well, can’t you just… ask for it?”

Me: “No, I can’t. That’s why I’m here: because I already tried my other options.”

Nurse: “All right, well, that yellow card has your medical history on it that you need. Unless you have that card, we can’t let you see your file.”

Me: “You— Wait, what? I’m asking for my history, and you’re telling me you can’t give me my own history… unless I have my history.”

Nurse: “Yes, because you need that card.”

Me: “I. Don’t. Have. It. That’s why I’m here to ask you guys — my doctor’s office — for my history.”

Nurse: “We can’t do that.”

Me: “Well, if I can’t see it, then can you at least just tell me the information that I need? I sent you the pictures.”

Nurse: “Hmmm, no, I don’t think so. Well, thank you for visiting.”

She gestures for me to leave the room.

Me: “No. Absolutely not. You guys tried to make me pay a ridiculous amount for copay I’ve never paid before, you guys did make me pay for copay anyway, and you are trying to turn me away without helping me. I haven’t even seen the doctor yet. I’m not leaving until I see the doctor.”

The nurse suddenly looks panicked and tells me to wait longer before leaving. It’s about another ten or fifteen minutes before the doctor actually shows up. 

He basically sits in the office with me, holding my file, while I show and ask him the questions necessary and he tells me the dates. I’m still not allowed to see or hold my file. It comes to light there’s a vaccine shot that I actually need a renewal of, so that can also be done to get out of the way. He thanks me for coming into the office and tells me a nurse will help me with the vaccine.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for her to show up, and it’s the same nurse I’ve been dealing with this whole time. The shot gets done and over with rather quickly, and then she just leaves the room. She hasn’t uttered a single word to me the whole time. I sit there a bit confused, waiting for further instructions. The nurse then pops her head through the doorway. 

Nurse: “Ummm, you can leave now, y’know.”

I was honestly a bit more surprised at the sudden attitude change than I was angry. When I got to the car, the surprised feeling was gone and I was definitely more than dissatisfied with the supposed “quick visit” that lasted from 9:30 am to 11:50 am.

I’m a cleaner in a school and our morning shift is 5:00 to 7:45. It’s not too bad, as I live two houses away. [Cleaner #1] and I usually help out in other areas when we’re done. Normally, only one other area needs it and only in the afternoon. [Cleaner #1], on top of her own work, has to do the supervisor’s small bit as he’s really lazy.

[Cleaner #1] and I are taking out our many rubbish bags when the supervisor joins us. He’s got not even HALF of a bag of rubbish. It turns out he’s done a single toilet set. On the way back in, he’s b****ing about the area manager.

Supervisor: “Oh, yeah, I’m supposed to send you off to help out in other areas if it’s 7:40 am. But that’s ridiculous; you guys do too much already, so I’m not going to do that.”

We get inside. The majority of the coworkers are sat there together, and the only ones missing are those in the area that generates more mess. We are supposed to wait until everyone arrives, but the supervisor immediately tells us to leave. [Cleaner #1] and I usually wait, but [Cleaner #1] has to leave today. The supervisor complains that the others are taking too long but doesn’t head down to see if they’re okay. Instead, he heads down to his area. I decide to see if the others need help, and then they round the corner.

Me: “Sorry, guys. Normally, you’re all right in the mornings, so I didn’t think to head straight over there after taking the bins out.”

Cleaner #2: “You’re fine. You usually help.”

Cleaner #3: “At least you waited. Where is everyone?”

Me: “They left — places they needed to be. [Supervisor] has gone down that way.”

Cleaner #4: “Reckon he’s gone to make sure [Cleaner #1] has also done his workload?”

Cleaner #2: “Probably.”

We see he’s heading back.

Cleaner #3: “Hey, I thought people were supposed to wait and see if other areas need help when they’re finished?”

Supervisor: “Oh, I know. I told them that they needed to go help or at least wait, but they all had places to be, apparently! Not sure where [My Name] had to be; she only lives a minute away!”

Cleaner #4: “She’s here. Literally next to me.”

He clocks me and gets an “oh, crud” expression on his face.

Supervisor: “Oh. Oh, I mean [Cleaner #1]! She lives nearby, too, and you two are usually together!”

I give my fake retail-learnt smile. [Supervisor] leaves even though he’s supposed to wait until the rest of us are gone.

Cleaner #2: “So, what actually happened?”

Me: “Oh, he’s supposed to tell us to help other areas if it’s 7:40, but that’s ridiculous because we work too hard so he’s not gonna. And he told them to leave. [Cleaner #1] was gonna stay, but her grandson is being dropped off at 8:00 so she had to get back.”

Cleaner #3: “Why didn’t he just say he told them to leave? He could have just pretended he hadn’t realised we needed help rather than try to throw them under the bus”

Cleaner #4: “Because he didn’t know [My Name] was still here. Just saw a group of female cleaners and didn’t think much more other than, ‘Hey, I can paint myself in a good light!'”

Cleaner #2: “He’s a d**k!”

Cleaner #3: “Not to be crass, but d**ks have a purpose and a use. He doesn’t.”