I was shopping in a grocery store when I heard this.

Woman’s Voice: “Hannah? Hannah? HANNAH!”

She sounded panic-stricken. I was about to approach her when I saw the store’s manager walking up to her, so I backed off and eavesdropped.

Manager: “What’s the matter, ma’am?”

Woman: “My little girl! She was right beside me, and now she’s missing! Please help me!”

Manager: “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll do everything we can to find her.”

Shortly afterward, the store’s doors were locked, and an announcement came over the PA to be on the lookout for a six-year-old girl matching [description]. The mother grew increasingly hysterical, sobbing that her daughter must have been kidnapped. Then, five minutes later…

Woman: “HANNAH! OH, THANK GOD!”

She hugged her daughter, and all was well… until five minutes after THAT:

Woman: “HANNAH! WHERE ARE YOU? SOMEONE HELP ME! MY DAUGHTER’S GONE!” *More hysterical sobbing*

I’m a mother myself, and I know how difficult it can be to keep an eye on small kids, but losing your little girl twice in one hour?

My company sells blankets, and employees can buy them at a discounted price. I’ve decided to treat myself to one of the more expensive ones.

Coworker: “Ooh, that’s nice. Is it wool?”

Me: “No. I wouldn’t buy a wool blanket; I’m allergic.”

Coworker: “Are you sure? It looks like wool to me.”

Me: *Checks the label* “There we are: ‘100% Faux Wool.’”

Coworker: “You’re screwed, then. You’d better return it.”

Me: “Why?”

Coworker: “Because it’s wool, duh.”

Me: “Faux wool.”

Coworker: “Exactly!”

I give up.

Me: “I’ll take my chances.”

Coworker: “Fine. Don’t complain to me when you get hives.”

My supervisor, who was the most nitpicky person ever, was about to start her maternity leave. This took place when Canada offered six months of maternity leave.

Me: “Well, good luck! I can’t believe I won’t see you for six months.”

Supervisor: “For God’s sake, it’s twenty-six weeks, not six months! I’m so tired of correcting you people!”

Me: “…”

I would’ve put it down to “pregnancy brain,” but she was always like that.

A former acquaintance of mine was always very hard up for cash, despite earning a good living. He was constantly trying to get me to lend him money until payday, promising that he’d pay me back with “10% interest”. I always politely refused, saying (with complete honesty) that I never lend people money.

One day, he was in very good spirits. Our city was going to host the Grey Cup (Canada’s version of the Super Bowl), and getting tickets to this event was like finding gold dust. His workplace had a free draw for two tickets to the game, and he’d won! 

Me: “Wow, that’s so lucky! I hope you have a great time.”

Acquaintance: “Oh, I’m not going to go. I don’t even like football.”

Me: “Huh?”

Acquaintance: “I only entered the draw on the off chance that I’d win free tickets. Do you have any idea how much I can get for these? I’ll make bank!”

Me: “That’s kinda shabby, dude. There are probably people in your company who’d hoped to win so that they could, y’know, attend the game.”

Acquaintance: “Yeah, so? They can still attend the game if they offer me the highest bid.”

Me: “You’re going to auction the tickets to your colleagues? Don’t you think they’ll resent you for that?”

Acquaintance: “Hey, they’re my tickets. I can do whatever I want with them.”

And off he went, convinced that he was going to make a fortune. Two days later, I ran into him again, and this time he was very glum.

Acquaintance: “Turns out you were right. My coworkers were really pissed that I was auctioning off the tickets.”

Me: “So, what are you going to do?”

Acquaintance: “They pretty much shamed me into giving them back, and they did a redraw. It’s not fair.”

Me: “I think you did the right thing, though.”

Acquaintance: “Whatever. Say, payday isn’t for a couple more days… any chance that you could—?”

Me: “Gotta go.”

This story is part of our Super Bowl roundup!

Read the next Super Bowl roundup story!

Read the Super Bowl roundup!

Our daughters moved out in 2017 to share an apartment together. My husband and I helped as much as we could, including renting a truck for all their stuff. Because they had several large pieces of furniture, we selected a mid-size truck.

On moving day, we headed over to the place from which we’d rented the truck. It turned out to be a tiny convenience store, which seemed a bit odd, but whatever. I found my confirmation email and gave the clerk all of my information. He looked a bit confused and then he led us outside and pointed to a very small truck.

Clerk: “You can have that one.”

Husband: “Um, no, we rented a mid-size.”

Clerk: “We don’t have any mid-sizes left. We only have that small one.”

Me: “What about that mid-size over there?”

The clerk spoke slowly, as if to a not-bright person.

Clerk: “You can’t have that one. It’s already been rented to someone else.”

At that point, I was starting to get very upset. There was no way we’d be able to fit some of the larger pieces of furniture into the small truck.

Husband: “This isn’t right. We rented a mid-size. We’re at the right place on the right date; I checked. Why don’t you have one?”

Clerk: “We only have one mid-size, and it’s already rented to—” *checks his system* “—[Badly Mispronounced Version Of My Name].”

Me: “That’s me!”

Clerk: “No, you said your name was— Oh.”

We finally got the truck we’d rented. The rest of the day was extremely stressful, and we were so glad when it was over!