(My mum was a helicopter parent during my childhood. After many years of fighting with her for my independence, she sort of “gave up” on me, much to my relief and satisfaction. However, my brother hates conflict and won’t argue with her when she crosses the line until she does something completely outrageous. This incident happens when he is in year ten. It is half an hour after the time he is supposed to be home from school, but he’s a six-foot tall 16-year-old and I’m not worried about him. I am in the middle of something when I get a phone call from my mum, who is out of state at a conference.)

Mum: “Nanna called me. Where is [Brother]? He is supposed to be home by now.”

Me: “Look: I don’t know where he is, but I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just missed the train or something.”

Mum: “He’s not answering his phone.”

(This is not unusual for him. Nobody ever answers their phones in my family.)

Me: “Which means it’s probably dead. I still don’t see any reason to panic just yet; it’s only been half an hour.”

Mum: “You need to give me his friends’ numbers.”

Me: “Are you kidding? I don’t even know their numbers.”

Mum: “Check the first drawer in the desk in Nanna’s bedroom. Nanna’s worried about it and so am I.”

(My nanna, who has dementia, is indeed wailing in the next room as if she’s just been told my brother was murdered.)

Me: “You’re both overreacting. Don’t embarrass [Brother] in front of his friends for being half an hour late. At least wait fifteen more minutes; it’s not like it’s going to make any difference if you panic now versus if you panic in fifteen minutes.”

Mum: “If you don’t give me his friend’s numbers–“

Me: “Mum, stop it. You’re being ridiculous. His friends are going to make fun of him for this.”

Mum: “He’s not going to care what his friends think.”

Me: “H*** yes, he is! [Brother] is a sensitive kid; he’s not like me. This will humiliate him.”

Mum: “You go get me their numbers, or I’m going to call the police, and then I’m catching the next flight home!”

(We go back and forth a little more, but I end up giving her the numbers, as she refuses to back down on her threat, and she has called the police in the past for less. Lo and behold, fifteen minutes later, who comes in the door but my brother. My brother, who was late because he was trying to finish a group assignment with his friends and missed his train. My brother, whose phone was dead, proving that DNA tests are not always necessary to prove without a doubt what family you belong to. By that evening, the Facebook status that my brother’s friend posted, laughing about how my mum rang up all his friends to find her baby boy, had received about 20 likes. My brother is upset to the point that he ends up confronting my mum about it when she gets home. She tries to laugh it off like it’s no big deal.)

Me: *butting in* “It was a big deal, Mum. I told you he’d be made fun of, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Mum: “He shouldn’t worry about what his friends say.”

Me: “Teenagers are sensitive to these sorts of things. But he’s sixteen now, and he’s never been in any sort of trouble. You should have trusted that everything would be fine or at least listen to me and given him fifteen minutes’ grace. You owe him an apology.”

Mum: *dismissive* “He’ll get over it.”

(My brother never really put his foot down, and my mum remains a controlling parent towards him to this day.)

(A customer and her daughter, who can be no older than four, walk up to the service counter.)

Customer: “Can I get a pack of [Cigarette Brand], please.”

Supervisor: “Sure.”

Girl: “No, Mommy, don’t.”

Customer: “But Daddy asked me to get them for him.”

Girl: “But they’re bad.” *to Supervisor* “Don’t get them.”

Supervisor: “I have to, or I’ll get in trouble.”

(My supervisor goes over to the drawer and grabs the cigarettes.)

Girl: “No! Don’t get them. They’re bad for Daddy. Don’t!”

Customer: “It’s okay, honey.”

Girl: *looking more and more upset by the second* “No, it’s not. Don’t scan them. Please.”

Supervisor: *trying to act as sweetly as possible* “I’m very sorry, but I have to. It’s my job. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t.”

(She scans the cigarettes.)

Supervisor: “That’ll be [price].”

Girl: “No! Don’t! Mummy, don’t buy them. They’re bad for Daddy. They’ll kill him.”

(The customer pays and the supervisor hands them the pack of cigarettes.)

Girl: “No!”

(As her mother tried to drag her away, the little girl folded her arms and scrunched up her face in that cute way four-year-olds do when they’re angry. I’m glad my supervisor took that one; I don’t think I would have been able to go through with the purchase with a little girl basically begging me to spare her father’s life.)

(The most recent firmware update has been reported to wreck a lot of mobile phones by causing a lot of issues. My phone is one of these, and has become unusable. I ring up the phone company on my landline to see if there is anything they can offer me or recommend I do.)

Employee: “Oh, yes. I see. You are correct. The recent firmware update is causing a lot of issues with mobile phones. We can offer you a few options.”

Me: “That’s great! What can you offer me?”

(The employee goes through a few offers, and since I am near the end of my plan, they waive the fee for me to get a new plan and phone. I am one of the lucky ones who is able to get this, as many people who had this issue either just started a new 24-month plan or were in the middle of their plan and couldn’t get much waived.)

Employee: “Okay, can I get a few more details from you before I do this for you?”

Me: “Sure!”

(While she is gathering some details from me, I hear her sniffing.)

Me: *knowing the season* “Hayfever playing up?”

Employee: “No. I’ve been dealing with issues like this all day. You’re the first person not to yell at me or yell abuse at me.”

Me: “Aww. Why would I yell at you? It’s not your fault. Those people who yelled at you are total jerks.”

(I felt sorry for this lady and gave her the best feedback I could give somebody, and I kept reminding her that no matter what people say to her, no issue they are having is her fault. Lady, if you’re reading this, I hope your day got better!)

(I go to get an internal ultrasound due to some gynecological issues. The place I’ve been referred to is specifically for women’s ultrasounds and while they do things for not-pregnant women, most of their work is women who are trying to get pregnant, currently pregnant, or just had a baby. They need to check off a couple of things before they start and the technician is going through my file notes.)

Tech: “I see here that you have the copper IUD.”

Me: “Yeah, I got it about six months ago.”

Tech: “Why do you have one?”

Me: “…because I don’t want babies?”

Tech: *laughs* “Yeah, that was a stupid question. I meant copper was an unusual choice. Why not the [Brand]?”

(I am a supervisor at a store. Then I leave for a year, and when I return someone else has taken over as supervisor. I don’t care, because I never really wanted the position in the first place, but it seems the new supervisor thinks differently. She often gives me misinformation, getting me into trouble from the manager for not doing the work correctly. This time is no different. She is giving out the daily job list.)

Supervisor: “[My Name], [Manager] said that [Department] is due for a count, but it has to be 100% tidy first. Today, I want you to completely tidy the whole area; spend your whole shift doing it. Don’t worry about the counter; I’ll cover that. When you finish tidying, you can start the count, but don’t worry if it’s not done today. You can finish it when you are in tomorrow afternoon.”

(I start tidying and hear the bell ring down at the counter which means there is a customer waiting. I hear it ring again moments later, so I head down, thinking the supervisor may have gotten stuck with a customer elsewhere. There’s a line of customers waiting. I apologise for the wait and serve them before I hear the door to our office closing at the back of the store. The supervisor comes down to the counter, telling me she had gone to the office for a moment, and sends me back to the department. She tells me to call her if I get a line up again. It happens again, and I notice that the phone line to the office is engaged, which means I can’t call her anyway. She’s on the phone for 20 minutes while I serve customers; there’s no reason for such a long phone call. I do as much of the tidying as I can between serving customers before my shifts ends, as well as scanning to make new price tags for the stock. I am part way through putting them out when the supervisor tells me not to worry; I can put them out the next day. The next afternoon, I get in and immediately am set on by the manager.)

Manager: “[My Name], what the h*** did you do yesterday? That count was due yesterday afternoon. I’ve been working four hours on it this morning; you can take over and do the rest. I told [Supervisor] that you had to do the count yesterday and that you weren’t to serve until it was done. She’s told me that she kept finding you at the counter after she told you to only do the count. Your problem is that you won’t listen.”

Me: “But she told me to tidy the area, first.”

Manager: “I don’t want any excuses; she told me that you were told to tidy as you counted. Don’t argue with me, or I’ll write you up. I also noticed that there are a few price tags missing; you were supposed to make sure they were all there.”

Me: “I have them here, ready to go out.”

(I go and finish the count; it takes another couple of hours. I wonder how I was expected to both tidy and count in the four hour shift the day before, when it’s taken six hours to do the count in the perfectly tidy area. I have the next four days off on my roster, and when I get back the next week, the manager has a go at me again.)

Manager: “[My Name], I told you to make sure [Department] was completely priced. I went over there today and there’s no prices anywhere.”

Me: “Strange, I did them on Thursday last week.”

Manager: “Well, you are responsible for that area, and you need to check it every day.”

Me: “Even when I haven’t worked since Thursday?”

Manager: “What? Oh, just go and do it. Stop arguing.”

(I get into the area, and he’s right; there are no prices anywhere. I redo all of the tags, then start tidying the area, and I notice that some stock has been pulled forward and crooked on a shelf. I find a screwed-up pile of price tags hidden behind the stock.)

Me: “[Manager], I’ve finished putting those tags out, and this is for you.”

(I put the pile of tags on the desk.)

Manager: “What are they?”

Me: “By the look of it, they are all the missing price tags from [Department]. I found them stuffed behind [stock].”

(Unfortunately, I could not prove who had put them there, so the manager decided it had to be a customer.)