When my son was in first grade, I got called to his school over “an incident in class.”

Me: “Can this wait until the end of the school day, when I am off work?”

Principal’s Secretary: *Adamant.* “You need to come in now.”

Me: “I would like to make a voice recording stating that you are claiming the principal said it is that urgent.”

She consents and restates it. I go to the school, and the secretary ushers me to the principal’s office, where I find my son looking annoyed and nervous while his teacher and the principal stand over him looking stern. After the greetings…

Teacher: “Tell your father what you said.”

Son: “I didn’t say anything!”

Teacher: “Tell the truth!”

Son: “I am!”

Me: “How about you tell me?”

Teacher: “He said [Student] has a pig face.”

Son: “No, I didn’t!”

Principal: “He also refuses to apologize.”

Son: “‘Cause I didn’t do anything!”

His teacher went to speak, but I intercepted her.

Me: “Did you hear him say it, or did someone tell you he said it?”

Teacher: “I heard him.”

Son: *Scoffs.* “‘Don’t tell lies’ my butt.”

Me: *To my son.* “Not helping.”

Teacher: “He’s got an attitude problem.”

Son: “And you have a lying problem.”

I intercept the teacher again.

Me: *To my son.* “What is she lying about?”

Son: “She didn’t hear it. [Student] just told her. Just like how [Student] told her, [Other Student #1] pushed him down during recess yesterday, and [Student] told her [Other Student #2] stole his potato chips, and [Student] told her—”

Me: *To the teacher.* “I’m noticing a pattern.”

Teacher: “He’s full of it!”

Me: “Did anyone else hear it?”

Teacher: “…I don’t know.”

Me: “So it’s just he said, she said, but you want [Son] to be blamed anyway?”

Teacher: “Because he said it!”

This time, I intercept my son.

Me: “Then find someone else who heard it.”

The four of us walk back to his class, and the teacher stands at the front.

Teacher: “Show of hands: who heard what [Son] said about [Student]?”

A single hand goes up, and my son later tells me that it is the student in question.

Teacher: *Still addressing the class.* “Stop lying for him! He said it!”

There is a long pause in which everyone looks around, confused and nervous. Then one girl raises her hand.

Girl: “Miss? [Student] pushed his nose and oinked while you were in the hall before school started. We were all talking about it because it was really realistic, and he used some of his stuff to look more like a pig. Then he said [Son] was making fun of him.”

Me: *To the principal.* “I think the only things left to discuss are apologies from the two of you, a new teacher for [Son], and who I talk to about the wages I lost to deal with this nothing that could have waited.”

Amazingly, despite their insistence that my son apologize, neither the teacher nor the principal had the backbone to muster up apologies of their own. Sadly, I did not hear that either one was fired. However, I was able to transfer my son to a different class for the rest of the year and enrolled him in a different school the following year. And the school board covered my lost wages and threw in a little extra for my silence after I filed a complaint with a copy of the recording… and threatened to involve a lawyer and the media.

I used to work at a Kinko’s (now FedEx), connected to a 24-hour pharmacy and grocery store, so we’re open 24 hours too.

I worked the late shift, which meant long machine runs, tedious finishing work, and at around 5 am, a bunch of very cranky people who “hadn’t had their coffee yet.”

One particular morning, I’m in the back doing a perfect binding job, which takes about fifteen to twenty seconds for the glue to melt. I hear the front door chime.

Me: *Calling out.* “I’ll be right out!”

Customer: “I’m in a hurry!”

I finish the binding, head up to the counter, and smile.

Me: “Sorry about the wait. What can I do for you?”

Customer: “Can I see your resume paper selection?”

The resume paper sample book is literally six inches from her on the counter, labeled in big bold letters: RESUME PAPER.

I slide it over and open it for her. She flips through it, loudly disapproving of every single paper.

Customer: “Ugh. This color’s weird. This one feels cheap. How much are they?”

Me: “Fifteen cents per copy. Seven cents extra for double-sided.”

Customer: “That’s expensive. Don’t you have better paper for that price?”

Me: “That’s our full selection. Otherwise, it’s plain white, neon, or card stock. Do you want it single or double-sided?”

She has a two-page resume. Most people go single-sided.

Customer: “Which is cheaper?”

Me: “Double-sided, but single-sided looks more professional.”

Customer: “Just give me fifty copies, double-sided, on the sandstone.”

I confirm her order and go run the job. As a quality check, I glance over the proof to make sure it printed cleanly, no streaks, fuser marks, or toner blobs.

That’s when I notice her most recent job title:

Job Title: “Copyweiter.”

I skim the description. She definitely meant copywriter.

Me: “Ma’am, I noticed your previous job title is—”

Customer: “—I’d appreciate it if you didn’t snoop on my personal information.”

Me: “Sorry, I just noticed a ty—”

Customer: “—Just print my order, please.”

Well. You got it.

I printed the full fifty copies. While squaring the stack for the bag, I spotted something else near the bottom of page two:

“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet…”

Placeholder text. Still in her resume.

I walked to the counter to gently flag it. Before I could speak:

Customer: “WILL YOU PLEASE NOT CRIMP THE PAGES? I NEED TO HAND THOSE OUT!”

I smiled, placed the pages delicately in the bag, rang her out, and sent her on her way with fifty flawless, typo-riddled resumes.

She did return later to complain. My manager listened patiently, then said:

Manager: “We don’t proofread customer documents. That’s your responsibility.”

I never saw her again. But I’m guessing it took a while to land a job as a ‘copyweiter’ with filler text in her qualifications.

There was one retail job I worked where this elderly lady would walk in about five minutes before closing, about once per week. It was never the same one twice, but there were at least five or six different ones taking turns. She would enter as we’re about to close the doors, and she would then wander up and down the aisles.

At about forty-five minutes past close, she would walk back out, as if everyone was doing this. Turning off the lights and the music didn’t work. Other people saw it as a signal that we’re closed, but the elderly woman there that day would just keep walking up and down the aisles like nothing happened.

One of my coworkers confronted her:

Coworker: “Ma’am, we’re about to close and lock the doors.”

Customer: *Angrily.* “Don’t speak to me!”

Any time any of us would try to speak to any of them, they would say this. Interaction with them was NOT welcome.

A few days later, we got word from corporate that we were no longer allowed to tell customers we’re closing, because it would upset them.

So now we knew they called corporate! 

Since we can’t lock the doors until closing time and, of course, we can’t lock them until everyone is out, there isn’t anything we can do but wait for them to leave. The alarm system is controlled by corporate; the manager has to call corporate to tell them we’re about to leave, and they will turn on the alarm.

Since we’re supposed to be done and call corporate to start the alarms within sixty minutes of closing, our only option was to clean up the store and other closing duties as the uninvited guest was ambling about.

Going over security footage and checking inventory, they never stole anything, so the whole time we worked there, no one could figure out why they were there. There is a store across the street open twenty-four hours if they want to wander around for a little under an hour.

Years later, I think it’s because they wanted to kill time at a place where there would be no one else around to bother them, and they chose us. That twenty-four-hour store may have had too many people for their liking (that is, any customers at all), and they knew our corporate would bend to their will.

I work in a specialty Funko Pop store.

Customer: *Holding out his phone.* “Do you have this one? It’s not on the wall.”

It’s the Mirror Universe Spock from ‘Star Trek: The Original Series.‘

Me: “Mirror Spock? No, sorry, we sold out last weekend. That one went quick.”

Customer: “Are you sure? Most of you retail people don’t actually check. You just say that.”

Me: “I track inventory through our POS system. We scan everything out, and it updates live.”

Customer: “Then maybe someone forgot to scan it. You got a stock room, right? Go look.”

I glance at the very obviously labeled “NO BACK STOCK” door behind me, then back at him.

Customer: “Go check anyway! Come on! Warp speed! Go!”

I sigh.

Me: “Sir, I’ll go check the back, but if it’s not there, you have to admit: this whole conversation could’ve been resolved with a mind meld.”

I walk in the back, respond to a couple of texts, and walk back out.

Me: “I’ve scanned the system and detected no signs of life.”

Customer: “Ugh! What about—”

Me: “—Sir, as I said, that sold out and we don’t have any more. Ordering online is now your best bet. I can show you how to do that.”

Customer: “I wanted it in my hands today.”

Me: “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Customer: “That’s it? That’s all you can say to me?”

Me: “Uh… boldly go? Oh wait…” *Does Vulcan hand salute.* “Live long and prosper!”

He does not respond well to my gesture and storms off. I shrugged, and the rest of my day was no tribble at all.

I work at a large multi-level gym that has a large climbing wall in the middle atrium. A visitor on a day pass walks up to me at the reception desk and points to it.

Customer: “So what’s the point?”

Me: “Of climbing?”

Customer: “Yeah. You get to the top and then… what, you come back down?”

Me: “Pretty much, yep.”

Customer: “That’s stupid. Why would I pay to go nowhere?”

Me: “Well, it’s like most things you do at this gym.” *I mimic a bicep curl.* “Things go up, things come back down.”

Customer: “It’s still going nowhere. Pointless.”

Manager: “We also sell memberships if you’d like to go nowhere more often.”

The customer scoffs and wanders off.

Me: “That probably ruined any chances of him becoming a member.”

Manager: “You want someone like that as a member?!”

Me: “Good point.”