Many years ago, when I was around sixteen years old, I had carefully budgeted my pay from my casual part-time job to buy some presents for my friends. (I can’t remember whether it was Christmas or birthdays.) I was at my local shopping centre (which is in a lower socioeconomic area), and when I was about to leave, I was pulled to the side by a pop-up kiosk guy selling some kind of fancy-looking nail care.

Kiosk Guy: “Can I get some of your time to look at our range of nail care? This red sea salt buffer will do you wonders.”

Me: “Look, mate, I’m a student, I work only a few hours a week, and I budget my money. Plus, it’s all spent and I’ve got no money left.”

Kiosk Guy: “That’s no problem. Let me have a look at your nails, I’ll show you how nice it is, and you can look at it for the future.”

He started showing me the product, and again, I made it clear that I had no money and wasn’t going to be making a purchase, but I didn’t have the confidence to just walk away at that age. He showed me a “sample” of how it worked by buffing one of my nails and putting a serum on it.

Me: “It sure is nice, but it looks pricey.”

Kiosk Guy: “Well, if you buy it today, I could give you a great discount!”

Me: “Ah, that’s nice, but I know you couldn’t bring it down to a price I can afford.”

Kiosk Guy: “Of course, I could! The price to buy this kit at a spa or online is $160, but today I could do it for $100!”

Me: “Ha! Yeah, nah, I still couldn’t afford that.”

Kiosk Guy: “You know what? You seem like such a nice girl who could really use this product. How about just $80 for the kit?!”

Me: “Remember when you pulled me over here and I said I was on a budget and had no money? And during this conversation, I told you that I am still in school and won’t be able to afford this?”

Kiosk Guy: “I’m sure I can find you a deal on one of our products. How much could you spare for a purchase today?”

Me: “Five dollars is what is left in my account right now.”

Kiosk Guy: *Confused* “Just five dollars?”

Me: “I told you I wouldn’t be able to buy anything today. I wasn’t having you on.”

The Kiosk Guy just looked at me so stunned and confused, and I just stood awkwardly for a few moments and walked away.

When I was fifteen, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, and we found that eating certain foods exacerbated the symptoms, the worst ones being gluten and dairy.

I was at a cafe with my dad and my uncle, who I don’t get to see very often. The menu labeled the gluten-free foods, which was good, but didn’t indicate dairy-free, which meant I had to ask the waitress when she came to take our order.

Me: “Is the orange and almond cake dairy-free?”

Waitress: “I’ll have to go check.”

We waited for a few moments and she came back.

Waitress: “I asked the cook, and they said the orange and almond cake is dairy-free.”

Me: “Awesome, I’ll get a slice of that.”

Waitress: “Would you like ice cream with that?”

Years ago, I had a job as a “concierge” at a large shopping centre. Basically, we stood around near exits to see if shoppers needed any assistance taking their things to their cars. Christmas was a particularly busy time, with people having trolleys of food as well as Christmas presents. We wore bright shirts with the centre logo on them, so it was pretty clear we were working there.

One day, I saw a prime target for assistance: a mother with a baby in a portable capsule, meaning the baby was only a few months old at the most, and a trolley packed with groceries, heading toward the carpark.

I approached her and asked if she wanted any help to her car, expecting her to give me the trolley, to which she said, “Sure,” and she HANDED ME HER BABY! I then followed her to the car, carrying her newborn. 

Who gives a newborn to an unknown? I can only guess that I either have a really trustworthy face or it was a case of baby-brain.

I have worked in computer repair for most of my working life. One day, back in about 2008 or 2009, I answered a phone call from a customer whose Internet was not working. I was trying to get her to reset the Internet settings in her browser. I’ve walked several customers through this process already, and it usually only takes a minute.

Me: “Can you open Internet Explorer?”

Customer: “Okay, I have done that, but it just says Page Not Found.”

Me: “That’s okay; we’ll try to solve that. If you look near the top right of your screen, you should see a small icon that looks like a cog or a gear. It will probably be just a bit below the red X.”

Customer: “Yes, I can see it.”

Me: “Can you click on it?”

Customer: “Okay, I’ve done that.”

Me: “There should be a menu that pops down, and it should have ‘Internet Options’ at the bottom.”

Customer: “Yes, I can see that.”

Me: “Can you click on ‘Internet Options’?”

Customer: “No, sorry, I can’t do that.”

Me: “Um, oh… Okay, what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “It’s too hard. Sorry, I really don’t know much about computers.”

Me: “Don’t worry too much. I’ll tell you exactly what to click on. This will only take a few more seconds. I just need you to click on ‘Internet Options’.”

Customer: “Sorry, I can’t do it. It’s too hard.” *Click*

What I find hilarious is that she had already clicked on a few buttons as I was walking her through it. I really don’t see why it suddenly got so much harder.

About five years ago, my girlfriend was in the ICU of one of the largest hospitals in Sydney, Australia. It was a stressful time for me, but she’s all good now.

I was walking back from one of the hospital’s cafes to see my girlfriend when I was stopped in the corridor by a lady in her sixties.

Lady: *Politely* “Can you take me to the cardio ward?”

Me: “I don’t work here, but reception is that way, and I’m sure they can help you.”

Her Ladyship did not like this response.

Lady: “Don’t f*** around! I know you work here; take me there!”

Her sudden change in demeanour stunned me.

Lady: “Come along; I don’t have all day!”

I was wearing a full suit and tie combo as I had an unavoidable meeting later that day. Now, I like a navy suit as much as the next suave bloke, but the doctors in this hospital, when not in scrubs, mostly wore slacks and collared shirts.

Given the missus was a bit under the weather, I was sleep deprived, anxious, and had no patience for Her Ladyship being a jerk.

Me: “Okay, follow me.”

We started down the corridor, through some doors, and up a flight of stairs, her pacing grumpily behind me. I could see a sign ahead indicating that the cardio ward was to the right. So, unfortunately for Her Ladyship, left we went.

We went up lifts, down lifts, up stairs, and down again. A full ten minutes into our Royal Prince Alfred Hospital Tour, it must have occurred to her that I had no idea where I was going. A porter with a gurney stepped out of a side door and she immediately accosted him.

Lady: “Your staff member here is wasting my time!”

It was almost comedic the way he looked down at her, up at me, down at her, and then up at me. 

Porter: “Did you tell this lady you work here?”

Me: *Smiling* “No, mate, literally the opposite.”

The porter frowned.

Porter: “Where ya headed, luv?”

By now, she was quite exasperated.

Lady: “What is wrong with you people?! He should have taken me to the cardio ward. And don’t ‘luv’ me!”

The porter, trying to hide his smile, told her to follow him, and off they went. I overheard her grumble something about “staff complaint” as they left. Gosh only knows what my write-up would have said about me.

I hurried back to the ICU ward, happily armed with a humorous story to cheer up my girlfriend.