My flatmate streams, and at the moment only has one monitor, so when a relative offered me one for free, I jumped at it. The catch was it didn’t come with a cable. It was an older monitor but after some checking, I worked out what it would need, then headed to the store.

I purchased a DVI-DVI cable, which is an old one with screws. I attached it… and nothing happened. It took me a half hour of troubleshooting to realise that though the graphics board in the computer technically supported the cable, it had never been set up for it, and in fact was only set for the HDMI the current monitor used, or the display ports next to it.

But also, during all this, it looked like the pins in the cable were bent. I knew I’d been careful, so I took the cord back and got the appropriate DVI-Display port cable.

It worked, but it turned out the monitor was janky and looked like it was in the Matrix, so after all that, it was a no-go. 

I removed the screws from the monitor and got that side of the cable out… then tried to remove it from the back of the computer

Then my flatmate tried to remove it from the computer. 

He ended up pulling it hard enough that the cable came free… except for the head which was now embedded in the port. Obviously, a faulty cable right?

We got good and mad between us about how much hassle the entire setup and failure had been, then the cable had literally had to be ripped apart to get it out of the computer, outrageous!

The next day we went to the store to get my money back for said cable. I approached the desk, explained the issue, and then showed the cable in question. I will say that while I was terse, I was not rude or angry.

Me: “I know I didn’t have to force it in to be properly seated, so I know it wasn’t in the wrong port. It broke, I’d like my money back.”

Worker: “Did you unlock it first?”

Me: “Beg pardon?”

The worker pulls out the remains of the cable, and shows me a little point just behind the connector on the display port side. It shows one of those child-lock “has to be held down while pulling to actually remove” style locks.

Me: “…”

Worker: “…”

Me: “I see I am at fault here… in which case I do NOT need a refund, but do you have electronic disposal?”

Our household has two cats, siblings from the same litter, who alternate between affectionate companionship and catastrophic squabbling. The brother of the pair, in particular, seems unable to understand cat social cues. He refuses to interpret his sister’s hissing, growling, yelling, and outright scratching as anything other than enthusiastic engagement with his play-fighting. (We’re working on it.)

This frequently results in him chasing his loudly protesting sister all over the place, usually before mealtimes when he gets excited. His sister can eventually get away by climbing something; she is a dangerously enthusiastic climber, while he often demands to be picked up for even short hops.

One such climbing spot is on top of our Internet router, which provides his sister with a warm, cosy perch to defend while the out-of-breath humans catch up. Now, the router’s power button is safely tucked away behind it — but the same is not true for the buttons on the top, including one that cannot be disabled and turns off the Wi-Fi when pressed.

And that is the story of how our cats learned to turn off the Internet when they want us to feed them.

Reading this story, I was reminded of the time two of our friends were trying to get home from our house around 10:00 pm.

Friend #1: “The company says the cab is on its way. We’re gonna go up and wait for them.”

Me: “Sounds like a plan. Have a good night, guys.”

We pack up the detritus of a movie night with friends, and one flatmate heads to bed. Then, fifteen minutes later, the leaving pair is back at our doorway.

Friend #2: “The cab still isn’t here… Can we wait inside while we chase it up?”

Me: “Sure. [Flatmate] is in bed now, though, so we have to keep it down.”

Friend #1: *On the phone* “…you what?” *Pauses* “Well, no, no one told us. Can you get us another?”

[Friend #1] hangs up and turns to us.

Friend #1: “I don’t believe it. The cab ditched us and picked up another fare. They didn’t even make it to this street. Dispatch is sending another one.”

There are frustrated noises all around. Another fifteen minutes pass, and [Friend #1] calls the company again.

Friend #1: “…what?! No! This is the second time this has happened. No! They did not tell us, and we did not cancel the trip. We are trying to get home here! Please get a cab to us ASAP!” *Hangs up* “It happened again!”

Me: “The heck? And yeah, no messages at all… That’s just a basic courtesy!”

Friend #1: *Fuming* “Let’s see…”

Another fifteen minutes pass.

Friend #1: “They better not have…”

They had.

The fourth taxi finally made it. We found out the next day that all of the drivers apparently justified ditching the call (with no message) due to a massive sports event going on in town.

[Rideshare Company] has since eaten most of their business. At least [Rideshare Company] lets you know if your pick-up is cancelled.

Related:
Having A Taxi-ing Morning

I work in a magazine subscription call centre. I had calls that ranged from lovely to downright ridiculous, including the time a subscriber expected me to somehow get across the city (Auckland) to the distribution warehouse (at least ten km away), and find her a copy of the magazine she should have received and send it, or else buy her a copy with my own money and send it.

But this one really took the cake: 

The woman’s husband had bought her a gift subscription to a women’s magazine. Nothing too fancy, just your everyday magazine.

Somehow the receipt for the subscription was sent to her. Right from the start of the call, she was screaming at me, demanding a refund.

Caller: “Don’t you people check with the recipient of the gift?”

Me: “No, ma’am.”

Caller: “Well, you should! You should have actually checked to see if I wanted the gift!”

She continued to demand a refund, which I couldn’t give her because it wasn’t our policy. Plus, it was her husband’s money. What I couldn’t say to her was if we asked every gift recipient if they wanted the gift, that completely missed the point of it being a gift.

To borrow a line from a TV show: ‘Her logic doesn’t resemble Earth logic’.

I felt sorry for her husband. 

Did she get the refund? Not from me. I think I passed the call on to my team leader.

So glad I no longer work in call centres.

Related:
The Gift Receipt That Keeps On Giving, Part 4
The Gift Receipt That Keeps On Giving, Part 3
The Gift Receipt That Keeps On Giving, Part 2
The Gift Receipt That Keeps On Giving

CONTENT WARNING: Pet In Very Poor Health, Death

When I was about three, my family got two cats, Nutmeg and Cinnamon. They never belonged to anyone in particular and didn’t seem to have a favorite person.

As inevitably happens, I grew up and moved to a new city to go to uni. Nutmeg sadly passed away shortly after, and as I got older, I visited home less and less. When I was twenty-three, I moved to the UK, but a year in, I had my identity stolen by someone I thought was a friend, who also tried to frame me for theft. Luckily, I was able to prove my innocence, but I decided to move back home.

By that point, Cinnamon was over twenty years old and in bad health. A week before I flew home, I got a call from my mum. Cinnamon had stopped eating, she could barely use her back legs due to arthritis, and her kidneys were shutting down. The vet had given her painkillers so she wasn’t suffering and would last until I got back, but an appointment was made to have her put down a couple of days later.

Shortly after I got home, I went looking for Cinnamon and found her curled up asleep on the deck, soaked due to the rain. She was the skinniest I had ever seen her, with big patches of fur missing, but when I picked her up she started purring. Mum gave her some of her painkillers and tried to get her to eat. Not only did she accept the food, but she absolutely wolfed it down before walking back to me and using her front claws to drag herself up into my lap, where she fell asleep.

Over the next couple of days, she would only leave my side to eat, drink, or go to the loo. If I was standing or walking, she would stand as close to my feet as she could — regardless of how many times I accidentally kicked her. If I was sitting down, she had to be in my lap, and when I went to bed, she would tuck herself under my chin.

Along with eating, she also started grooming herself again and seemed to regain some use of her legs. Still, the vet had said she needed to be put down, so we took her in for the appointment — only for the vet to tell us she was okay. In just a few days, she had started to regain weight, her fur was recovering, and blood tests showed that her kidneys had stopped deteriorating.

We took her in for another appointment a week later where the vet confirmed that her health was continuing to improve. They gave us another prescription to help with the arthritis. She survived another year and a half before we had to put her down for completely unrelated reasons. Right up until she fell asleep for the last time, she tried to keep as close to me as possible.

This story is part of our Highest-Voted-Inspirational-Stories-Of-2024 roundup!

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