(I grew up in a fairly small town. I have an older half-brother through my father. He lives in the same town, but I have never met him. I have heard that he drinks at a local pub owned and managed by my friend and his dad. I have just turned 18, which is the legal drinking age here, when I walk past the pub and see [Brother]’s work van parked out the front. He is standing at the bar talking to the manager.)

Me: “Hi, how are you?”

Brother: *a little taken aback* “Umm, hi. Good, thanks. You?”

Me: “Not bad. Can I ask you something?”

Brother: “Ah, okay, I guess.”

Me: “Are you [Brother]?”

Brother: *looking down at his shirt with his first name on the front* “Umm, yep.”

(My friend, the manager, is off the phone now and, due to previous conversations, knows what I’m doing. He is trying not to laugh.)

Me: “Is your mother [Father’s Wife]?”

Brother: “Umm, yes.”

Me: “Your dad’s name is [Father], but you haven’t seen him since you were about three?”

Brother: “Umm, yes. How do you know this?”

Me: “Hi. I’m [My Name], your half-sister.”

([Brother] looked like he was going to fall over, while the manager was now laughing. The manager brought us both a beer on the house. We chatted for a few minutes before he had to go. I don’t push to keep in contact, but a few weeks later my manager friend passed on his number, and we are now in regular contact, and I have another part of my family, even if neither of us are in contact with our father.)

(A customer has placed an order online for several pizzas, one of which is a supreme, from which she has removed all but two of the toppings. Her husband comes in to pick up the order and we receive a phone call shortly after from the wife.)

Customer: “My husband just picked up our order and one of our pizzas is wrong.”

Me: “Sure, I’ll just look up your order in the computer.” *I do* “Yes, I can see your order. Which pizza was the one that has been made wrong?”

Customer: “I ordered a pepperoni pizza with pineapple, and all I got was eight small pieces of pepperoni with a few pieces of pineapple. It’s not enough toppings, and it’s not what I ordered.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’ve ordered the supreme pizza, and removed almost all of the toppings. The pizza looks that way as we have to weigh our toppings before putting them on the pizza, and different pizzas have different weights of toppings. The supreme only has eight slices of pepperoni and about thirty grams of pineapple as the other toppings will fill it out.”

Customer: “A supreme pizza definitely doesn’t only have eight pieces of pepperoni. Get me your manager.”

Me: “Ma’am, I am the store manager and I have been working here for over a year. I assure you the supreme pizza is only supposed to have eight pieces of pepperoni and thirty grams of pineapple.”

Customer: “Like h*** it does! Don’t f****** lie to me! Put your manager on the phone.”

Me: “As I said, I am the store manager; there is no one here higher than I am. We made your pizza how you ordered it and you received what you paid for. If you’d like to add extra toppings it will be $2 per topping for an extra 30 grams. If you were to add extra pepperoni and extra pineapple the total price for this would then be $16.95, an additional $4, or you can change your order to a pepperoni pizza and add pineapple which would cost you $13.95, only an extra $1.”

Customer: “I’m not paying any extra, you b****! You think I’m a f****** idiot! I know how much topping should be on this pizza; I order this pizza every time.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we made the pizza how you ordered. I’m sorry it was not up to your expectations, but we gave you what you paid for. If we added extra toppings without processing them through the computers and having them paid for, there would be discrepancies in our nightly stock take. As I said, if you would like to change your order and pay the difference, I’d be happy to remake the pizza and have it delivered to you free of charge.”

Customer: “I’m not f****** paying you anything! I want a full refund, and the whole order remade and delivered for wasting my f****** time.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t do that, as there were no problems with the rest of your order. If you don’t want us to remake the pizza and deliver it to you, then I will place one free traditional pizza under your account for next time. Thank you and have a good night.”

(I left after that as it became increasingly difficult to maintain composure. I didn’t hear from the customer again.)

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I have a day off so I wasn’t planning on doing much other than sleeping in. At about 9:30 am I get a call from my dad.)

Dad: “Hey, sweetie, are you doing anything at the moment?”

Me: *lying in bed* “No, not anything important. What’s up?”

Dad: “The coolant hose has come loose on the car again. Could I get you to come pick me up to get some more coolant?”

Me: “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

(I go and get him, chatting about inconsequential things, asking about each others’ weekends. We get the coolant and we are heading back to his car. This happens about half an hour after I pick him up.)

Dad: “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling that great this morning… About an hour ago I started getting chest pain and was thinking I should go to the hospital, but I’m feeling okay now so maybe I should just go home.”

Me: *being skeptical in my head* “Nah, if you were worried, Dad, I’d go up there. I will go with you if you’d like. I’ll stay with you. It can get kinda boring up there by yourself.”

Dad: “Oh, well, only if you’re not doing anything. It might be a good idea.”

Me: “Sure thing; it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Dad: “Only if you’re sure you’re not doing anything

Me: “I’m sure; I will meet you up there.”

(I follow him up only to find a parking space at the bottom of the hill, so we walk up to the top and get admitted into ED. Long story short, Dad had had a minor heart attack, three in fact, the last one as we were walking up the hill, and he just wanted to go home. I spent five hours with him, him asking me not to tell any family members because he didn’t want to stress them out. Mum nearly had a heart attack herself when she found out, mainly because he waited five hours to tell her! Please, please, people — get it checked out sooner rather than later!)

In my first real job, one of my tasks is to take cheques to the bank and bring back cash for the petty cash. I am given a handbag and am told I need to take my own wallet for ID purposes at the bank.

The accountant jokes with me, “Oh, if you get mugged, make sure you ask for your wallet back.”

I don’t take his joke too seriously until I am at the bank one day. I turn to see a guy watching the teller counting the money I am to take back. He then turns to me and gives me a creepy grin. I don’t think anything of that until I am a few doors away from the bank and turn to find him so close to me he’s almost touching me. I quickly dart between cars and across the road. He follows a short distance away, so I duck into a shop that I know has an upstairs exit into the next street. I sneak a look when I am going up the stairs to see him standing by the door I had entered. I run out the back door and through another shop before rushing back to work. Thankfully I had explored different routes and knew which stores had rear exits. My work only wants me to take one route to and from the bank, at the same time each day.

Not long after that, I move into a receptionist role and a new hire is given the bank job, which isn’t part of the job description. Her husband comes in to see the accountant and tells him that his wife is not doing the banking. The accountant agrees it is too dangerous for a middle-aged lady to do, but funnily had not considered it too dangerous for his teenage niece to do.

(I am working in a two-storey men’s clothing store. It is almost closing time, and I am the only one working on the bottom floor, when an elderly man shuffles in and approaches me.)

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “Uh…” *stares at me for a while*

Me: “Yes? Is there anything you were looking for?”

Customer: *continues staring*

Me: *slightly creeped out, but keeps smiling* “Okay, well, let me know if you need anything!”

Customer: *suddenly points to a pair of display pants* “Get me those in XL.”

(I tell the customer to stay while I run upstairs to fetch the requested pants. However, when I come back down, the man’s pants are down and his family jewels are on full display.)

Customer: *still staring creepily at me* “You’re pretty.”

Me: *slowly turns around and goes back upstairs*

(I quit a few days later.)