We are backed up, with one of our flat tops down, a new item on the menu, two people out sick, and our main ordering box going down; it was a perfect storm. During the lunch rush, everyone came in all at once, getting stuck in the drive-through. While it was understandable that no one was expecting a thirty-to-forty-five-minute wait, we were doing what we could. While no one was happy about it, this interaction stood out.

Customer: *Pulling up to the window.* “Dude, what the f***.”

Me: “Yes, sir, I’m so sorry for the wait.”

Customer: “It’s supposed to be fast food, yeah, not forty-five f****** minutes.”

Me: “Ye—”

Customer: “—And it’s not like there’s a way to pull out of this f****** lane once you are in here.”

Me: “I know, but—”

Customer: “—The f******* person at the box should have said the wait time was this f***ed up; I would have reversed out of this s*** before anyone came in behind me!”

Me: “Understa—”

Customer: “—You guys need to do better! You know people are coming in here for a fast meal, and you don’t even mention the wait!? We have places to be, do you know how much money I spend here!?”

Something seemed to click in the driver’s head as he said that last sentence.

Customer: “Oh no.”

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: “Oh noooooooooo…”

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: “I’m that guy!”

Me: “Sorry, sir?”

He responded in a hushed, mystical voice of deep contemplation.

Customer: “What have I become…”

Me: “Sir, it’s okay, the wait has been really bad today.”

Customer: “This is not okay, I am disappointed in myself. I have dishonored my family.”

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: “Figuratively.”

Me: “Right.”

Customer: “I apologize for my behavior. I should have given you time to speak before yelling over you.”

Me: “It’s quite alright, the things you said are all valid.”

Customer: “But they could have been said respectfully.”

Me: “You’re not wrong.”

Customer: “Well… umm, here’s my card.”

Me: “Thanks, it will be another minute or two.”

Customer: “Take as long as you need…”

Me: “Are you okay?

Customer: “Are you okay?”

Me: “I’ll be fine.”

Customer: “Good, good, good.”

No further words were exchanged aside from him thanking us when we finally handed him his order.

Recently, I had just pulled a work shift from 14:30 to 02:30. I am driving home in our post-pandemic world, I found that every store and food option that used to be 24 hours was closed.

Without any other options, I pull into a gas station with a convenience store. Being that it was just touching 03:00, the location was abandoned except for the one person with the broken-down car, because there is always a person with a broken-down car at these places.

I went in, got a bento and a spam musubi, and walked back out. Deciding to have pity on the broken car person, even though my bones were tired, I placed my items in my car through the open windows and walked over.

Me: “Hi!”

Driver: “Hi.”

I looked around, and the driver had a jumper box out as well as a tire pump and a voltage tester.

Me: “Battery? I have cables in my car if your pack is dead.”

Driver: “No, I don’t think it is, it was making a funny sound, so I topped off the the, the, the…” *They gesture vaguely at the oil filler port.* “…and then I drove in a big circle, and it just stopped moving here.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

I watch as the driver picks up the battery voltage meter.

Driver: “Do you know how to use this thing?”

Me: “Yeah.”

I check the battery voltage, and it comes back at 13.6.

Me: “Try and start it.”

The driver turns the key, and there is a loud CLICK! as the engine attempts to move but can’t.

Me: “What kind of oil did you put in here?”

Driver: “Oh, I didn’t have any, so I filled it up from that thing over there.”

Me: “The thing… the what thing?”

The driver indicates the combination air hose/wiper fluid machine, which has a big sign on it that says ‘WATER’.

Me: “Oh… Oh… Oh no…”

The driver looked at me questioningly.

Me: “You ummm… you put… the… that, in this hole?” *I tapped on the oil cap.* 

Driver: “Yeah, filled it right up.”

Me: “Your… your car is dead.”

Driver: “What?”

I went into the explanation of what happens when you fill an engine block with water, a non-compressible fluid, something a new car would fall to not to mention the 1992 Geo Metro I was standing next to.

Driver: “What if we bump start it?”

Me: “No, you… you don’t have an engine anymore. Bump starting it won’t fix the internal damage, in fact, I doubt the wheels would turn once you lift the clutch and the driveline reconnects to the engine.”

Driver: “Well… well then this is [Convenience Store]’s fault!”

Me: “By what possible metric is this [Convenience Store]’s fault?”

Driver: “It’s not marked!”

Me: “It very clearly says ‘water’.”

Driver: “Yeah, but, but they know people do engine stuff out here, they need a sign that says not to put it in the engine!”

At this point, it was about 03:23, all I wanted to do was go home, drink my bottle of water, eat my food, and browse NAR until the sleep gods took me away, so while I normally would have responded much nicer, what came out of my mouth was:

Me: “NO! They don’t need a sign that says that because your BRAINCELLS are supposed to tell you that! That is almost as basic car knowledge as putting air in your tires.”

As I gestured at the car, I looked at it and noticed that at least two of the tires were extremely low on air.

Me: “F***.”

Driver: “Yeah, they need air.”

Me: “Are you sure? You don’t want to add water!?”

Driver: “I mean… it wouldn’t matter now, would it?”

Me: “Not at all.”

Driver: “Well, I am going in there and I am going to let the manager know that corporate is paying for this!”

Me: “Yeah, do what you want, I’m going home. Don’t leave your tools out in this neighborhood.”

As she hustled to put her tools away, I went into the store and wrangled the manager and her two associates and filled them in on what had happened and warned them about the… fun… conversation they were about to have. The employees nodded solemnly.

As I left, I heard the door lock behind me, as I was getting into my car, the open sign went out as well.

God speed, employees.

CONTENT WARNING: Injury Detail

This was in about 2012, and a lot of businesses have started redirecting store numbers to call centers automatically, something I’ve grown to hate. As I am browsing this big box store with one of my friends, an older man in the aisle steps on a toy that had been left on the floor by a child, slips, and slams his head into a shelf on the way down.

My friend and I go over to help him immediately, he has split his forehead open above his left eye. My friend runs to find an employee while I help the man. She returns with a washcloth that still has a tag on it, and I use it to apply and hold pressure to the head wound, stopping the bleeding.

Me: “Employee!?”

Friend: “Can’t find one, because of course not!”

Me: “Dial 911 on your cell.”

She takes her phone out, slides it open, and calls 911. As she’s going through the process of doing that, I pull out my phone and flip it open, dialing the number for the store (I memorized it because… I don’t have a reason, I just did okay?).

Once the line is ringing, I throw it on speaker and place the phone on the floor, adjusting my hands to keep pressure on the wound.

Call Center Guy: “Hi, you’ve reached the customer service center for [store], how can I help you?”

Me: “Hi, I need to be patched back to the store, please.”

Call Center Guy: “No, I can assist you with anything you need. What’s going on today?”

Me: “I am dealing with an emergency, I need to speak to someone IN the store, please.”

Call Center Guy: “No, just tell me what you need.”

Me: “I am handling a physical emergency inside the store location. I need to speak to an employee who is here, please.”

Call Center Guy: “I’m sorry, but this is the customer care center. If you need an employee, you can visit the store—”

Me: “—I’m in the store.”

Call Center Guy: “—and speak to one.”

Me: “No, I need to speak to the onsite staff, please.”

Call Center Guy: “Sorry, I can’t help you with that.

Me: “Sorry, maybe you are misunderstanding, I am dealing with a physical, medical emergency, in the store location, and I need assistance from someone onsite.”

Call Center Guy: “Look, I can either help you or I can end the call here.

My friend finally slid her phone shut and snatched my phone off the floor, speaking in a sticky-sweet voice that somehow managed to also portray an icy coldness.

Friend: “Okay, BUD! Then can you please go wait outside the [Town] location for EMTs to arrive and escort them to the toy department where we have a man with a head injury?”

Call Center Guy: “I—”

Friend: “—We have stopped the bleeding, but can you please grab a first aid kit and a bodily fluids spill kit on the way? My friend is also going to need to be evaluated because he is touching blood without gloves.”

Me: “Oh… oh s***!”

Friend: “Yeah, but it was needed, [My Name].”

Call Center Guy: “Let me get you in touch with the store.”

Lo and behold, she was put through to a manager who immediately sent what seemed to be every single employee to assist us. EMTs arrived within fifteen minutes and were escorted to us as requested.

We saw the old man from time to time; he always smiled and waved at us.

This story reminded me of a conversation I had with one of my friends who lived in California a while ago. It went pretty much like this.

Friend: “Yeah, we plan on coming down probably sometime next year.”

Me: “Oh? What month? We’re going to be at a wedding in Missouri later in the year.”

Friend: “I’ve been watching the prices for the tickets, I’m going to try and buy them when you are closest.”

Me: “Closest?”

Friend: “Yeah, closest to us? That way, the tickets are cheaper.”

Me: “What do you mean… what do you mean, closest to you?”

Friend: “Like, when you’re closer to us.”

Me: “I’m not following.”

Friend: “When Hawaii is closer to California?”

Me: “What… what do you mean closer?”

Friend: “What do you mean what do you mean?”

Me: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?”

Friend: “When you guys are closest!”

Me: “Do you think we are out here just FLOATING AROUND the Pacific Ocean!?”

Friend: “YOU ARE!”

Me: “WE ARE NOT!”

Friend: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE NOT!?”

Me: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE NOT!?”

Friend: “Tell me what you are doing if you aren’t floating.”

Me: “Hawaii, the islands of Hawaii, are the tops of PART of an underwater mountain range called the Hawaiian-Emperor Seamount Chain, which formed due to undersea volcanic activity.”

Friend: “Mountains don’t grow under water, dude.”

Me: “Mountains don’t grow… under water…”

Friend: “No! Of course not, how would they?”

Me: “Tell me how mountains grow in the first place.”

Friend: “They just… I don’t know, they just… they… they just do.”

Me: “Look, I’ll… I’ll do some research and get back to you on when our tickets might be the cheapest, but I need to go recharge my brain after this conversation.”

Friend: “I’m going to go research these mountains! These “supposed” underwater mountains.”

This conversation was several years ago, and he did end up looking up those underwater mountains. With no ADHD medication in his system to stop him, he ended up falling down the rabbit hole on marine research and never stopped.

He is now a traveling marine biologist and ocean researcher. As I type and submit this story, he is literally out on a research ship somewhere that I will never see in my life, studying something I will never understand. He sends pictures every now and then.

I was driving into Honolulu and decided to stop at a restaurant known for Tacos and Mountain Dew. I don’t know if this is a thing elsewhere, but here in Hawaii, if your order is within a few cents off the next dollar amount, they ask if you want to round up to donate to education.

I pulled in behind a small red car that had stickers all over the hatch. “How’s my driving” with a missing phone number, “Shut Down Red Hill”, “Fully Depreciated but still in use”, and a massive sticker for something called “Get Gavd” merchandise. This was obviously a party car. The driver rolled down the window and I overheard the following exchange.

Driver: “Hi, can I get [small list of items]?”

Voice #1: “Okay, that will be $12.57.”

Driver: “Are we doing the round-up thing?”

Voice #1: “We usually don’t if the difference between the two dollar amounts is so high.”

Driver: *Note of genuine confusion.* “It’s only three cents.”

Voice #1: “Sorry?”

Driver: “$12.57 to 1:00 is only three cents.”

Voice #1: “What!?”

Driver: “Twelve dollars and fifty-seven cents is only three cents less than one o’clock. I’m okay with the three cents for the education thing.”

Voice #1: “Sir, that’s not… that’s not, I can’t do that.”

Driver: “Why?”

Voice #1: “Please hold.”

Voice #2: “Hello!”

Driver: “Hi, sorry for the confusion, I’d like to round up from $12.57 to 1:00.”

Voice #2: “Sir… I… are you aware that $12.57 is a dollar amount and 1:00 is a time? Three cents added to your total would be $12.60.”

There was a very long pause.

Voice #2: “Sir, are you okay? ”

Driver: “I’ve been awake for a very long time.”

Voice #2: “Should we add an iced coffee to your order?”

Driver: “I’d like to add an iced coffee to my order, please, yes.”

Voice #2: “Okay, pull forward, we’ll give you your new total at the window.”

The car left, and I pulled in. The first voice returned, and I completed my order, my total coming out to $11.47.

Me: “Can I round up to 12 o’clock, please?”

I got no response for a very long time.

Voice #3: “No, pull forward.”

I pulled forward and received my food from the manager, who was laughing and patting the back of a young adult who was sitting on the counter with his face in his hands, holding a headset between two fingers.

Me: “Is he okay?”

Manager: “He’s fine, he had to drop your line because he was laughing too hard.”

Related:
Time Is Money