(It’s Memorial Day, and my pharmacy is one of the few within a twenty-mile radius that is open. My coworker is on break and I am managing the front of the pharmacy.)

Me: “Hi, sir. How I can help you today?”

Customer: “I’m here to pick up two prescriptions for [Customer].”

Me: “All right, sir, it looks like I have one prescription ready for you, but the other prescription — your [Prescription] — we’re still waiting to hear back from your doctor for more refills.”

Customer: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY’RE NOT DONE?!”

Me: “There is one prescription done and ready for you to pick up, sir. The other prescription you requested — [Prescription] — isn’t, because we haven’t heard back from your doctor yet.”

Customer: “I HATE THIS PLACE! YOU GUYS NEVER HAVE ANYTHING DONE! I BROUGHT TWO PRESCRIPTIONS IN ON FRIDAY, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THEY’RE STILL NOT DONE?!”

Me: “Sir, I have one prescription ready for you right now.” *pause* “The other one is still waiting on your doctor for approval, and since it’s Memorial Day, we may not hear back from your doctor until tomorrow.”

Customer: “You guys are horrible! You never have anything done for me! I hate it here!” *walks off*

(After he walked away, I looked back at the screen to see when he brought in the prescriptions. And turns out, he brought them in yesterday, not Friday. But either way, we still had one he could have taken home with him.)

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(My father decides to buy us both 25-minute massages from a small store in a mall. In the store there is one other couple getting foot massages, and a slew of workers. About ten minutes into his massage, my father passes out because he got overheated. When he wakes up, the workers, the security supervisor of the mall, two mall cops, and I are all standing there waiting for an ambulance to arrive. I then hear the security supervisor talking to the lady getting a foot massage, and although I only hear one side of the conversation, I have a pretty good idea of what is being said.)

Security Supervisor: “What?”

Security Supervisor: “No, I can’t massage your feet.”

Security Supervisor: “I don’t work here.”

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My uncle recently passed away due to tumors in his lungs and brain. After the memorial service, my cousin relates this story.

After a brain surgery, a therapist is asking Uncle how much he knows and remembers. He points to my aunt and asks Uncle if he knows who she is. Uncle looks at her and clearly draws a blank, before smiling and saying, “The love of my life.”

He had (temporarily) forgotten her name, but it was generally agreed he made a smooth recovery.

(I work for a small non-profit that connects people with legal resources. A local hotel accidentally gave out our phone number instead of theirs to a bunch of guests. I have a variation of this phone call about seven times this day.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Non-Profit]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Is this [Hotel]?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. This is [Non-Profit]. We’re a non-profit.”

Caller: “But this is the number I was given!”

Me: “Are you in need of legal resources?”

Caller: “Of course not! I’m trying to call [Hotel].”

Me: “Well, this isn’t [Hotel]; this is a non-profit.”

Caller: “But this is the number I was given!”

Me: *slams head into desk*

(I’m bringing some used motor oil to an auto parts store to be recycled. Depending on who’s working at the time, they may take the oil for me, or they might have me go in the back and pour it out myself. This time, an employee escorts me to the recycling tank. Each time this is done, there’s a log that needs to be filled out. We get to the part regarding “quantity” when this happens.)

Employee: “So, how much?”

Me: “Well, this says gallons, so let’s say one.”

Employee: *indicating my container* “That’s one?”

Me: “Well, it’s five quarts, and there are four quarts in a gallon, so it’s a little more than one.”

Employee: “So…”

Me: “We can say one and a half, because that’s gallons.”

Employee: “So, four?”

Me: *giving up* “Sure.”

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