I am a British tourist visiting New York City. I get stopped in the street by a man giving away tickets to “The David Letterman Show.” Thinking this sounds interesting, I decide to get a ticket.

Man: “Okay, I just need to ask you one question.”

Me: “Sure.”

Man: “What colour is the announcer’s hair?”

I pause. I have no idea!

Me: *Disappointed* “I don’t know. The show isn’t broadcast in the UK so I haven’t a clue, I’m afraid.”

Man: “Oh, that’s a shame. Tell you what. I like you, so if you just take a look at that red car over there…”

Me: *Catching on, laughing* “Oh, could it possibly be red?”

Man: “Correct! See, I knew you knew it! Here’s your ticket for tonight’s show!”

Me: “Thanks!”

I went to the recording, expecting the guest to be some sportsman or soap star I’d never heard of, but the guest turned out to be Bruce Willis! So, I got to tease my friend back home who is a big fan of “Die Hard” that Bruce Willis had been in the same room as me! It was a very enjoyable show and I was so thankful to that man for helping me out!

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Many years ago, when I was nineteen, I used to work at this restaurant in New York City. It was a popular restaurant and it had a very famous name; the owner of the company invested mostly in hotels and resorts, but some establishments — such as our NYC branch — only did food service, no hotel facilities. We had two rooms above the restaurants only for VIP guests. They weren’t “bookable” or anything; they were strictly very, very VIP!

One day, around Christmas, a gentleman came with his family and demanded to be shown to his room. I explained that our NYC branch was only a restaurant with no hotel facilities. He then said that he was a sheik, he came from Dubai, he was a friend of the owner, and he had called early to book a room! He insisted that he spoke to me of all people — he said he recognised my voice — and that should I not accommodate him, he would get me fired immediately! He was getting quite aggressive and calling me an idiot.

I was terrified. I was only nineteen, this was my first “real” job, and I was pissing off my boss’s friend. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do. Both our VIP rooms were given away; one of them hosted a senator and the other one was given to the owner’s niece. We literally had no space for this guy, let alone his family.

I explained the situation, but I realised that he was getting more and more frustrated. He then said, “I’ll get you f****** sacked, you stupid b****,” and proceeded to dial the owner’s number.

What would you think? That the owner would apologise on behalf of his jerk friend and find an alternate solution?

NO!

He asked his friend to hand over the phone and then he demanded that I let this guy stay in my own apartment for the night!

Needless to say, I resigned from my position a week later. The whole situation was ridiculous. I’m glad to have found a much healthier work environment since.

My husband has COPD, so we have been very very careful during this health crisis. We’ve been in isolation for fifty-seven days now. He’s been really wanting a particular fast food restaurant’s fish sandwiches, so today, we decided to order through their app and go through the drive-thru, figuring it would be minimal risk.

When he pulled up to the window to receive his bag, the woman was wearing a mask, so he rolled down his window. She then pulled her mask off her face, down around her neck like a necklace, leaned out the window, and started talking to him. I don’t know what she was saying, because at that point I was shouting at her to put her mask back on, that my husband has COPD, and that she could kill him.

She seemed surprised and puzzled at my reaction more than anything else.

After I got home and calmed down, I called and spoke to the manager. When I started with, “I was just there at the drive-thru and I have a major complaint,” he responded, “Was she wearing her mask under her nose again?”

This tells me that this is an ongoing problem. He said he would “sit down and have a very serious talk with her.”

But since she’s obviously not taking mask-wearing seriously, she should not be interacting with the public.

I sent an email detailing all of this through the restaurant’s corporate contact form and received a long email from a do-not-reply address explaining how they value customers’ safety and are doing everything to ensure that, blah, blah, blah.

A few days later, I got a call from another manager at the local restaurant; apparently, the person I spoke with on the day that the incident happened was just a manager of the day. This one sounded older and very, very concerned. He said he checked the camera footage, identified the girl who we dealt with, and had a very long talk with her. He explained to her that if she couldn’t follow the rules, then she wouldn’t be working there anymore.

He sounded very sincere, so I think the issue is being dealt with. I asked him if she said why she’d done it, and he kind of sighed and said with exasperation, “Well, she’s young.” I knew exactly what he meant; when we’re young, we are invulnerable. Until we’re not.

Now, we just have to wait another twelve days to see if she infected my hubby. It doesn’t seem likely — not everybody is transmitting the bug — but “not likely” isn’t much comfort.

When I was in high school in the late 1990s, class schedules were handled by having students select their courses for the next school year at the end of the previous, and the guidance office would arrange the schedule as appropriate, making sure students were taking the correct number of credits in each subject to graduate without overfilling the class rosters. The schedules were then handed out in homeroom on the first day of class in the new school year, and students had approximately one week to make changes to their course load and class selection. This system generally worked out well for all involved.

The first day of my senior year, however, I looked over my schedule during homeroom and realized a problem with my courses. When I’d selected my senior classes at the end of junior year, I’d chosen Creative Writing and Mythology as two English electives because I enjoyed both and had heard great things about the Mythology class, which was taught by one of my favorite teachers. Instead, my schedule showed Creative Writing during the second semester, but Public Speaking in the first semester in place of Mythology. I was disappointed. Public Speaking was something I did not like in the slightest, and on top of that, the teacher was one who was known among the female students for generally being a bit of a creep — not enough to get in trouble, but enough to make students occasionally uncomfortable — as well as annoying.

My first free period of the day was after the first Public Speaking class, so I had to attend that first class before I could go down to the guidance office to talk to my guidance counselor about the scheduling problem. When I finally got to the office, I discovered my guidance counselor would be out that week, but one of the other counselors was handling his students and would be able to talk to me about my schedule… the next day, as she was unavailable at that moment.

So, I had to sit through a second day of Public Speaking. I told the teacher up front that second day that I was working to change classes, so not to expect me to be there for long. He accepted but still tried to get me to change my mind.

During my free period that day, I went back to the guidance office and spoke with the substitute counselor about my problem.

“Whoever set up my schedule put me in Public Speaking instead of Mythology,” I told her.

The counselor looked through my paperwork about the classes and explained, “Well, Mythology just didn’t work with your schedule, so we had to put you into another elective to make sure you got your full English credit for graduation, and Public Speaking worked with your class schedule.”

I just gave her a confused look.

This time, the counselor spoke more slowly, as though speaking to a preschooler rather than a high school senior. “You need one full credit of English to graduate, and Creative Writing is only half a credit, so we had to choose another elective for you—”

I cut her off, pointing to the top line of my schedule, first period. “I’m in AP English.”

It should be noted at this point that, due to the college-level nature of the course, AP English not only had a full-hour class period, it also had a full-hour every-other-day lab period immediately after. It was worth one and a half credits of English and took up the top line and a half of my schedule. It should have been the first thing the counselor saw when she looked at my schedule.

The counselor gave me a baffled look and asked, “Then… why did you sign up for two electives?”

“Because I wanted to take them,” I said simply.

The counselor was still baffled, but said, “We’ll take Public Speaking off of your schedule for you. You’ll have your new schedule by Monday.”

This happened on a Thursday, since the school year started on Wednesday in that district, so I had to attend one more Public Speaking class that didn’t matter. Monday morning, I had a new schedule in hand, replacing Public Speaking with another free period, giving me two free periods in a row.

The most annoying part? A few weeks later, a friend of mine mentioned that there was a second Mythology class during my original free period — the one right after Public Speaking on my original schedule — and it wasn’t even full. I could have had Mythology after all if someone had been willing to replace my free period, which I didn’t really need. At least the extra free periods during senior year let me get homework done at school rather than having to spend time at home doing it.

Silver lining, I guess.

I’m busy at work so I decided to order in some pasta from the uptown location of a restaurant I love with an outpost near my apartment downtown. The menus are different but when I see “Penne alla Stolichnaya” on the menu, I assume it’s the same as the “Penne alla Vodka” I get from their downtown restaurant. I check the listing, confirm the ingredients, and place the order.

It arrives ten minutes before I dash into a meeting — my fault, not theirs. I decide to have a few quick bites before my meeting and open it. I take a few bites and notice there is something else in the pasta. I sniff and realize it’s bacon. I don’t eat meat, so I’m annoyed. I go back to the menu and check the ingredients again to see if I made a mistake. It’s not listed. 

I call the restaurant and ask them to confirm it’s bacon. They say, “Uh, yeah, it comes with bacon.” I respond that it’s not listed on the menu and she goes, “So?”

I am a little taken aback that she didn’t care. I tell her they can’t send people food with extra ingredients not listed on the menu, especially considering some could harm people with allergies. She responds, “So… do you want us to replace it? I mean with one without bacon?” 

Starving, I agree, but I end up emailing the delivery service to complain. I get a full refund.

I ended up ordering it again this week but made sure to specify “NO BACON” on the order. But I’m still shocked that they thought there was nothing wrong with adding ingredients not listed on the menu. It’s a high-end place, too!