I am the store manager of a big box retailer. An associate pages me to answer a call requesting to speak to the store manager. I prepare myself as these calls are rarely positive.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you today?”

An older woman responds, sounding exasperated.

Caller: “Thank God. I’ve called four stores and no one will help me! I’m looking for the name of the store that is across the street from you! There was a craft store that closed a few years ago and I can’t remember the name of the store that was next to it!”

The shopping center across the street from me is actually across a four-lane highway and is rather large. I’m a little confused and ask her again what I can help her with.

Caller: “I need the phone number of the store I’m looking for but I can’t remember the name!”

Me: “What do they sell?”

Caller: “Clothes.”

I have no idea what store she’s looking for.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but without more information, I will not be able to help you as there are a ton of small boutique stores in the shopping center and I don’t know them by name.”

Caller: *Irritated* “It was next to the craft store that closed a couple of years ago! How hard is that to figure out?!”

Me: “I do not know the stores in a completely different shopping center from where I am. I wish you luck on your search.”

Caller: “Lazy b****!” *Click*

A few years ago, I worked the night shift in a hospital. It was a large-ish hospital but operated like the small-town place it originally started as. For example, even though it was a twenty-four-hour hospital, the coffee shop and cafeteria both closed at 6:00 pm. This was about an hour before the night shift started, so we all had to bring in our own food.

I was warned on my very first shift that one of the housekeeping staff was a notorious food thief and considered anything left in the nurse’s lounge fridge or cabinets to be fair game. It didn’t matter if it was wrapped in a bag with your name written on it and sealed in hazard stickers; she would help herself to it if she liked it. If we ordered pizza or Chinese food, she’d rush into the break room and grab a double portion of it before the people who’d paid for the food got to it. She even — apparently on more than one occasion — sliced pieces off cakes and grabbed cupcakes that had been brought in for people’s birthdays before the intended recipient ever got to see them. She had worked there for years and was friends with her supervisor, and she never stole from the other housekeepers, so nothing was ever done.

After I’d worked there for a few years, a new product came on the market. It was basically a cooler-sized plastic cage with a padlock that was meant to protect your food from thieves and was advertised to be strong enough to keep a hungry bear out. After we saw the infomercial for it, the night shift staff all ordered ourselves these wonderful food cages. Suddenly, food was safe! We could bring in cupcakes for people’s birthdays and lock them up and know they’d be there for our lunch break. Anytime delivery food was ordered, we made sure to have someone meet the driver at the door and lock up the food before carrying it to our floor. We actually got to eat every last bite of the food we’d paid for! It was glorious!

Then, we got a notice from the housekeeping supervisor that a serious disciplinary matter needed to be brought before the entire night shift staff and we were to stay after work one day so the day shift supervisors could also be present. We had no idea what this was about. When we all dutifully marched into the main meeting room to discuss this serious matter, we saw the food thief sitting with her supervisor friend, and both were scowling at us.

Housekeeping Supervisor: “[Thief] has a serious grievance against the staff for discrimination and theft.”

While we sat there gobsmacked, [Thief] stood up and proceeded to complain.

Thief: “You’ve all been locking up your food and not letting me eat it anymore!”

She seriously stood there and complained for five or six minutes straight about how she hadn’t been able to help herself to our food for weeks, and she knew we were only locking up our lunches to keep her from taking what she wanted.

Her supervisor sat there with her mouth hanging open while our supervisors were clearly trying not to laugh. The rest of us were either trying not to laugh or sitting with our mouths open in pure disbelief. Thief concluded her complaint by demanding the food cages be banned. I really wish I could have been a fly on the wall for the rest of the conversation, but we were told to go home at that point. The next shift I worked, I was informed that [Thief] had been transferred to the day shift so the day housekeeping supervisor could keep an eye on her. Also, the day shift nursing and secretarial staff had all ordered food cages.

It was 7:30, and I’d dropped into my local pharmacy in order to grab a prescription on the way home. I went back to the pharmacy counter and saw a woman hovering around the counter, wearing a mask, so I did as I always do and stayed a safe distance back to wait. She turned to me, immediately, and I realized I was in for something interesting, as she immediately asked me if I was there for a vaccine. I simply replied that I was there to pick up a prescription, and I could tell from the way she turned from me that she was trying to find someone to complain to. Her attitude radiated impatience and a little entitlement, so I was ready for fireworks.

After a moment, a man came around the corner and started talking to the woman; it turned out that he was her husband. He had been looking for something on the shelves and couldn’t find it but was going to check again since they were still waiting; she requested he stay at the counter because he was “better at talking” than she was. He told her to just call for him when the pharmacists got to them and headed back off to go find whatever it was he needed.

She then proceeded to start making “ugh” huffing noises, like she was scoffing at the wait already, but she did it so often there was hardly a second between her scoffing noises. It was like a mini-tantrum to herself. I don’t know how long they’d waited before I arrived, but I had only been there for maybe two minutes, and I’ve been to the pharmacy enough to know their wait times at the counter didn’t tend to be long if there wasn’t a line, so there was almost no way she’d been waiting more than a few minutes before I arrived, as the counter and back half were empty except for a car or two outside.

After another second, the head pharmacist/doctor in charge approached the counter to ask what they needed, and she called for her husband in a clipped tone before starting off anyway without waiting for him to get back to her. 

Woman: “We’re here for our boosters.” 

Doctor: *Not unkindly* “We don’t take walk-ins after 1:00 pm, and we don’t have appointments after 7:00.” 

He could tell they didn’t have an appointment without having to ask, considering the hour, and his tone was mostly confused and a little concerned, like maybe they’d managed to book an appointment anyway and he was about to have to deal with a massive system issue. He was clearly anticipating fallout, either way. The woman opened her mouth, and I could hear the complaint starting in her throat through the half-second of tone she got out.

Then, her husband cut her off, emphatically and in a volume and tone that were almost teacher-voice-like. 

Husband: “No. He is telling us what he can and cannot do.” 

He then turned to the pharmacist and, in a pleasant tone, asked again about walk-in times so he knew when best to come back. The pharmacist walked him through using the app to make an appointment and clarified what vaccine they needed the booster for. The husband seemed almost pointedly pleasant when he talked, like he was making a point to his wife about how you talk to people when you can’t get your way. She didn’t say anything else except to ask what vaccine they had because, apparently, another of the same pharmacy carried the other kind, and when they left, they left quietly and with no further tantrums.

It is late December. I am a big New Orleans Saints NFL fan. My wife gets me tickets to a Saints game. We live too far from New Orleans to go to a home game and the closest away game for us to see the Saints is at the Carolina Panthers.

We are checking into our hotel. Check-in is at three and I am ten minutes early. Most of the time, hotels let you check in a few minutes early, but the lady at the front desk won’t let me.

Employee #1: “Check-in isn’t until three.”

Me: “Okay. No worries. I can wait. I’ll wait in the car for a few minutes and come back in.”

I go back to the car with my wife and I wait until the clock says 3:00 pm. I go back in to check in.

Employee #1: “Oh, your room’s not ready yet.”

I’m a little annoyed, but it is what it is.

Me: “Umm, okay. I will wait.”

The front desk lady tells other customers the same thing. Clearly, they are running behind, most likely shorthanded. I used to work retail before I began teaching, so I know what that’s like.

I sit at a table in the lobby. Thirty or forty-five minutes later, [Employee #1] begins checking in other guests who came in after me. I am a little annoyed but I wait my turn in line. [Employee #2] comes in and waits on me.

Employee #2: “May I have your name and ID, please?”

I tell her my name and hand over my ID.

Employee #1: “Umm, his room isn’t ready yet!”

Me: “Still?” *Sigh*

Employee #2: “Actually, I can get him into this room. This is the type of room he booked.”

Me: “Thank you!”

Employee #2: “May I have a card for payment and incidentals?”

I hand her my debit card. My debit card is one of those printed instantly at the bank when you open your checking account. Some readers will decline it the first time you swipe; you just have to run it again. This is exactly what happens.

Already annoyed, I sigh.

Employee #1: “Umm, do you wanna stay here or not?!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Employee #1: “Do you want to stay here or not?! Because I can cancel your stay if you don’t calm down! She is doing the best she can!”

Me: “I wasn’t even doing or saying anything! I know it’s not her fault and I am not frustrated with her!”

Employee #1: “It’s in your body language!”

Me: “Yeah. I have been waiting for about forty-five minutes, so I’m already annoyed. I have been patiently waiting. I would just like to check into my room. I am sorry if I took it out on anyone because I didn’t mean to.”

Employee #1: “You’ve been rude this whole time.”

Me: “Can I talk to a manager?”

Employee #1: “Our manager will be here tomorrow morning! Her name is [Manager]!”

Me: “Well, I will be sure to report you to her for this. You were looking for an argument with me the whole time and didn’t acknowledge my wait or attempt to defuse the situation.”

I get my room keys and my wife and I go to the room. I tell her what happened and then I contact headquarters to report what happened.

The next morning, we get ready to go to the stadium. We eat a continental breakfast before we call a rideshare company. I see someone in management.

Me: “May I speak to [Manager]? A lady at the front desk told me that this was the manager’s name.”

Management: “I’m sorry, but nobody here with that name works here. I am the manager, so how can I help you?”

I look at his name tag and see “Hotel General Manager” as his title. I tell him the story. He sighs and shakes his head. 

Management: “Sir, I am very sorry about what happened. This is not the first complaint I have had like this. I will certainly take care of it, and I will certainly give you something complimentary as an apology.”

Me: “I don’t really need anything complimentary. I just want to know for my sake and others that this is not the norm and you seem like you’ll take care of it.”

My uncle is very sweet, but sometimes I’m not 100% sure how his thought processes work. My birthday is coming up, and today I got a letter-sized envelope from him in the mail. Inside, stacked on top of each other, were:

1) a small gift card, which would easily fit inside a greeting card;

2) a birthday card (folded in half to fit into the envelope);

3) a taller, narrower envelope, perfectly sized for the birthday card, clearly bought with the birthday card, and also folded in half to fit into the letter-sized envelope. 

I can’t figure out why he didn’t use the birthday card’s envelope; the gift card was nowhere near big enough to keep it from fitting, and he wouldn’t have had to fold the birthday card. But even if he did have a reason for wanting to use the letter-sized envelope, why did he send me the one that came with the birthday card?