I was shopping for some work clothes for a new job. I found a couple of pieces on clearance at a local store. This store is known for having a lot of clothes and home decor, and whatnot. It also has several “sister” stores with different types of inventory. One of them focuses mainly on Goods for the Home. I work at one such sister store.

Me: *Sets my purchases down.* “Hello…”

Cashier: “Hi! Will you be using our store credit card today?”

Me: “No. And I’m not interested, thank you.”

Cashier: *Talks over me while scanning.* “Would you like to sign up today? You could save 5%—”

Me: “—No. Thank you.”

Cashier: “But if you sign up, you could get points for every purchase!”

Me: “No. Thank you.”

Cashier: “Well, if you’re ever interested…”

Me: *Interrupts, finally reaching my limit.* “No. I said no, and you’re being really pushy now. Please stop.”

Cashier: “Uh. Well, this is literally my job.”

Me: *Holds up my employee discount card.* “I. Know. But there’s a difference between doing your job and being obnoxiously pushy.”

She didn’t say a word for the rest of the transaction. Was I rude? Yeah. I’ll admit that. But I can’t stand pushy sales pitches. I shouldn’t have to say no to a credit card four times just to buy some pants.

In the early 2000s, my wife and I had moved into a new condo and were excited to try out the diner directly across the street from the building. On the Saturday morning after moving in, we were tired of unpacking and decided to go there for breakfast. The food was pretty good, the coffee was decent, and the server was fine. All in all, not the best dining experience, but you couldn’t beat it for convenience.

Everything was fine until it was time to pay. The server dropped off the check, then disappeared. We waited about five minutes before I flagged down another server who was walking by. I asked:

Me: “Do you know where our server went? She dropped the check and hasn’t been back.”

Other Server: “Oh, she’s out back, taking a smoke break.”

Okay, a little weird and unprofessional to drop the check and then leave.

Me: “Could you cash us out?”

Other Server: “I can’t, but you can go to the register where the manager will take care of it.”

We did so, leaving a decent tip, and talked to the manager for a couple minutes, letting him know we had just moved in across the street and would love to come back.

We left, walked across the street, and were reading a historical marker in front of an old church when we heard someone yelling:

Voice: “Hey! Heeeyyyy!”

Turning around, we could see it was our original server, standing in the doorway of the diner. When she saw we were looking at her, she screamed:

Server: “You didn’t pay! Come back or I’m calling the cops!”

My wife and I looked at each other, then started walking over to her. When we got back to the diner, she had her arms folded and was tapping her foot angrily, looking like we were kids she had caught with hands in the cookie jar.

Me: “You dropped off the check and disappeared. We paid at the register when you didn’t come back after five minutes.”

She looked confused for a moment, then doubled down like a toddler.

Server: “No, you didn’t!”

To counter that stellar argument, my wife opened her purse and pulled out the receipt, with the tip marked. The server looked at it, glared at us, then stomped back into the restaurant without an apology.

Despite the convenient location, that experience was bad enough that we never went back to the diner. It closed about eight months later, and a great Chinese restaurant opened in its place, which we went to many times until we moved four years later.

When my wife and I got married, she changed her last name to mine. Interestingly, she doesn’t have a middle name, and since her first name starts with ‘N’ and my last name starts with ‘O’, her initials are now NO. It never occurred to us that this might be an issue until we were buying a house.

We went to a title office to do the closing paperwork on the house and started signing and initialing in the hundred or so places that the title officer told us to. The title guy took the first page back after we initialed, looked at it, and immediately told us to stop.

Title Guy: “WHY ARE YOU SAYING NO TO EVERYTHING?!”

Wife: “I’m not saying no, I’m initialing like you told us to, those are my initials.”

Title Guy: “Your initials are N-O? What about your middle name?”

Wife: “I don’t have a middle name. You have my driver’s license right in front of you; look at it.” 

He picked up the license, looked at it for a few seconds, then said:

Title Guy: “Hang on, don’t sign anything else, I need to talk to someone.”

Then he left the room.

About five minutes later, the title guy came back, presumably having been told by someone in the office that it is not illegal for a home buyer’s initials to be NO, and we continued signing documents like nothing happened. Funny enough, that was the third house my wife and I had bought since being married and her initials were not an issue at the first two closings.

That issue has never come up again, probably because my wife now tells people before signing and initialing anything about her initials. We have also joked that if we ever want to void a contract, that will be our out: “You can clearly see that I rejected every provision of this contract, and you didn’t say anything at the time of signing.”

I am buying some scented candles. Another couple is nearby doing the same. The woman opens a candle jar and sniffs.

Woman: “Ugh! This says Ocean Breeze, but it doesn’t smell like our beach at all.”

Man: “Honey, this says notes of sea salt, jasmine, and driftwood. Our beach smells like warm Bud Light, seagull poop, and someone grilling six feet too close.”

The woman scoffed, placed the candle down angrily, and stormed away. The guy sighed and slowly walked after her.

A customer up to the counter, glancing over the menu board with a frown.

Customer: “Ugh. What’s with all this foreign junk? Matcha? Chai? Why can’t you people just serve normal American coffee?”

Me: “We’ve got a medium roast drip or a dark roast if you prefer something more classic.”

Customer: “Fine. Give me something strong.”

Me: “Sure thing. One strong, Ethiopian roast, just how America drinks it.”

Customer: “D*** straight.”