My mother tells this story of her “horrible” boss:

Boss: “Fax a report to [number].”

Mom took the document immediately to the fax machine, loaded it up, dialed the number, and walked away. After a few minutes, she heard the chirp indicating it was done. She got distracted by other responsibilities and hadn’t cleared the fax machine when the boss came back into the office, screaming:

Boss: “I TOLD YOU I NEEDED THAT FAXED IMMEDIATELY!”

Mom: *Quietly.* “I did fax it.”

Boss: “WELL IT’S STILL THERE!”

Apparently, the boss fully expected the documents to be physically teleported to the other office like something out of ‘Star Trek.’

Related:
Taxing Faxing, Part 31
Taxing Faxing, Part 30
Taxing Faxing, Part 29
Taxing Faxing, Part 28
Taxing Faxing, Part 27

For a short time, I was a notary/receptionist at a legal document preparation office. More often than not, we were preparing and executing trusts. I’ve met a few unusual people while here. But this couple stands out the most.

We were chatting while the office manager had to reprint a miss-signed page, come to find out that this couple had some very… odd points of view. They were convinced that Hurricane Katrina was so devastating because the Democrats were holding the storm in place with lasers.

Yes, lasers.

Yes, they were serious, because I made the mistake of asking more.

This took place in 2001. I was nine years old and in third grade. We were just starting to learn multiplication and were learning the multiples of threes. My teacher warned us that from here on out, the multiplications were going to get harder and she didn’t want us to feel overwhelmed, so she came up with a song to help us remember the solutions to multiplying threes.

Teacher: “I am going to sing a song that’ll help you memorize all the multiples of three up to the number thirty. I sing this song every year to my students and I’ve had past students, including middle schoolers and even high schoolers, who come back to visit me tell me they remember this song. Are you ready?”

Us: “Yes!”

Teacher: “Three, six, nine, the monkey drank wine; twelve, fifteen, eighteen, we’re going skating; twenty-one, twenty-four, twenty-seven, we’re almost to heaven; thirty!”

Our class erupted in laughter at the silliness of the song, and we asked her to sing it again which she did.

Classmate #1: “Mrs. [Teacher], there’s no way we’re going to remember this when we get older. It’s too silly!”

Teacher: “You might say that now, but I’m telling you, I have students from many years ago come up to me and say one of their favorite memories was learning this song and they still use it to this day!”

Classmate #2: “Yeah, right!”

Fast forward to today. I just turned thirty and I taught my nine-year-old nephew, who is just starting to learn how to multiply, this song my teacher sang all those years ago. It might sound silly, but it turns out she was right when she said we would never forget that song!

Client: “Okay, I’ve totaled everything and I’ve come up with $543,698. Double-check my math.”

Me: “I got $562,552.”

Client: “That’s wrong. Do it again.”

I add all the numbers again.

Me: “Okay, $562,552.”

Client: “What? Now we have three different numbers!”

Me: “No, we don’t. That’s the same–”

Client: “Stop talking! You’re doing something wrong. Just concentrate on the counting, and the numbers won’t come out so screwy.”

Me: “I’m pretty sure it’s $562,552.”

Client: “Now you’re just pulling numbers out of the air. Do the math again!”

I redo everything from scratch.

Me: “Okay, the total is… $562,552, definitely!”

Client: “See, that’s what I had the first time!”

I was in first grade in the mid-1990s. My class is currently learning addition and just about everyone is counting on their fingers. We are working on a math sheet in class and I finish mine pretty quickly.

I peer over at the girl sitting next to me and notice that some of her answers are wrong. Upon further observation, I see that she, much like the others, is using her fingers to count, which is fine until she goes to count the fingers on her next hand. When adding numbers such as three and three, she will start with three fingers up on one hand and then raise the other two fingers on her hand for the next three. Then, she moves to her other hand for the last one, but the thumb on her other hand goes up (or out, rather) at the same time as her pointer finger. Then, she counts how many fingers she actively has up. She then writes seven under the total line.

Being the outgoing and kind-hearted child that I am, I try to point out what she is doing wrong.

Me: “Hey, [Girl], that answer’s wrong.”

Girl: *Defensive immediately* “No, it’s not!”

Me: “I can show you. See, when you count—”

Girl: “Leave me alone, [My Name]. You’re doing it wrong!”

Me: “But, when you count on your fingers, you’re—”

She slams her pencil down and puts her hands up near my face with three fingers up on her right hand and her left hand in a closed fist.

Girl: “I’m not doing it wrong, see?! One.” *Her right pinky finger goes up* “Two.” *Her right thumb goes up* “THREE!” *Pointer AND thumb on her left hand go up* “See?! Seven fingers! Three plus three is seven! I’m not wrong! Leave me alone!”

It was at that moment, at the ripe old age of six, that I learned that it’s pointless to argue with a stupid person.