My boyfriend and I have decided to stop for some fast food after a day of fishing. We are in the drive-thru. I’m driving while he is in the passenger seat. We order our food and pull forward to the first window.

Worker: “Hi! Your total is $10.82.”

I hand her $20.82.

Worker: “Um… this is too much money.”

Me: “Uhhhh… I’m trying to make change?”

Worker: *Snidely* “I don’t know what you’re doing. This is too much money; the total is only $10.82!” 

She proceeds to TOSS the 82¢ back onto my lap angrily, as well as the change from $20, and closes the window on me.

I pull forward to wait for our food. Then, I turn to my boyfriend.

Me: “Was I wrong? Did I somehow give her the wrong amount of money?”

Boyfriend: “No, she should have given you back $10. She was being weird.”

Also, I thought about it when I got home, and even if I had been wrong, that’s no way to speak and react to a customer for making a mistake.

After reading this story, I was reminded about my run-in with attempts to convert a math class onto a computer.

Back in the early 2000s, I was already a student running ahead in math, but this incident threw it into a sharp light. At the start of the school year, without warning, we were all trooped down to a set of computers in the basement of the building, sat at a program, and told to answer math questions. I started, and then I finished maybe twenty minutes later, having completed all the questions and wondering what to do next. The proctor didn’t know what to do, so they reset the test for me and had me do some more random math questions.

Two days later, we were informed what had been going on. The incident with the computers was about seeing how computer-aided learning might help the math class. Everyone was now assigned a day of the week when they would go down and engage with the program to “increase math literacy”. A schedule was called out… but I noticed that I was not on it. I was not a popular student with my classmates, so I waited until after class to ask the teacher. He made sure everyone was gone before answering.

Teacher: “The test graded people and assigned them ranks on how well they answered the test. The highest assignments it can handle are seventh-level.”

Me: “So…?”

Teacher: “You scored at level 7.5. You don’t have to take the computer class.”

While I do like messing around with computers, the idea of having to do the simple (to me) problems for an hour straight seemed like torture. That teacher gave me an advanced book to work from instead. I had a very happy year in math completing my work and then getting a head start on my algebra.

Customer: “What’s the difference between the eight-inch and ten-inch pizza?”

Me: “It’s two inches wider and five dollars more.”

Customer: “Haha, very funny, smarta**. But seriously, what’s the difference?”

Me: *Using the pizza boxes to indicate this* “The diameter is two inches longer.”

Customer: “You think you’re real smart, don’t ya? You’re working in a pizza place, and I’m driving a BMW, so who’s smart now?”

Me: “Well, if I was being real smart, I’d use pi-r-squared…”

I quickly write up the equation on the chalkboard where we write out our specials, and I calculate the exact increase in the area of pizza they will be getting if they go for a ten-inch over an eight-inch. I then tell them.

Customer: “Why are you using all that math?! And I don’t want pie! I want pizza!”

He drove away in his BMW without a pizza. Or a pi.

I’m a manager in a pharmacy. Sometime in 2021, half of our store floor is turned into a temporary vaccination facility. We explain this to some of our retail customers who ask why a wall of curtains is blocking their access to what used to be departments they would use. Most are fine with it — emphasis on “most”.

Customer: “You should all be ashamed of normalizing vaccines! You just don’t know what’s in them!”

Me: “Actually, we know exactly what’s in them.”

Customer: “You only know what they want you to know! They cause autism!”

Me: “That is simply not true.” *Looks around conspiratorially and leans in closer* “What if the vaccines caused cancer, though?”

Customer: *Also leaning in* “Why? What have you heard?”

Me: “Oh, nothing. Just wondering, don’t you buy cigarettes every time you come here?”

Yes, I know, it’s stupid that a pharmacy sells cigarettes, but hey! Corporate America!

Customer: “That’s different!”

Me: “You’re right! Over 150,000 people die of lung cancer in the US every year. I think maybe three or four people have died from vaccine complications in the US? After 300 million doses. So, yeah… very different.”

Customer: “You’re just a sheep who does what he’s told! Look at the real evidence!”

Me: “I’m a sheep that didn’t get sick while working in a pharmacy during a global health crisis. That’s plenty of evidence right there. So, one pack or two today?”

The customer glared at me but still bought her daily pack of cigarettes.

Related:
You Can’t Vaccinate Against Stupid, Part 3
You Can’t Vaccinate Against Stupid, Part 2
You Can’t Vaccinate Against Stupid

A friend of mine put me in touch with her relative for a logo for their new company. Since it was a friend referral, and I was excited about the project, I offered a discounted rate (almost 50%) from what I normally charge businesses.

Me: “Great. The logo should take around three or four hours at my rate of [amount].”

Client: “Okay, but I don’t want to pay more than that.”

Me: “Sure. I’m confident that I can create a logo in that time frame quoted.”

Client: “Wait, how many options will I get?”

Me: “The quote above is for one logo. It takes around three or four hours. If you want more, I can create options, but I’ll have to bill each at three or four hours for a total of [higher amount].”

Client: “That is not a competitive market rate. Best of luck.”

Now I wish I could bill my full 100% rate for the time it took to negotiate and explain how math works.