Big Bob was one of the sweetest, nicest guys you would ever encounter. That being said, he was also the most boneheaded. He was one of the floaters who would fill in here and there where help was needed in installing, the warehouse, and the workshop.

One day, our owner had piles of files that needed to be destroyed due to customer-sensitive material. Instead of calling a shredding company, they decided it would be best to take a metal barrel outside and burn the paperwork. That was a separate issue all in itself. Big Bob was put in charge of said task.

At one point in the day, I went outside to track down one of the warehouse guys and was treated to the vision of Big Bob’s car blasting country music, smoke billowing out of the metal barrel, and Big Bob himself walking through all the ash and smoke shirtless like someone out of a music video. I was hard-pressed not to laugh as I scolded him.

Me: “You should keep your shirt on since you’re playing with fire!”

Big Bob: “But it’s hot!”

When I came to work the next day, I noticed that our plastic dumpster lid was bent seven ways to Sunday and looked melted. When I asked what happened, I was told that once the burning of files was done and all the paper was a smoldering pile of ash, Big Bob had decided to dump the still-hot remains IN THE DUMPSTER. Surprise, the metal barrel was still hot from its long day of burning, and Big Bob had grabbed it with no gloves. He had grabbed it quickly, so he didn’t feel the error of his decision until said barrel was over the dumpster, and he dropped it, barrel and all, into the dumpster. In no time flat, the dumpster and all its contents caught on fire, melting the lid.

Again, Big Bob was the sweetest guy, which was probably why he kept his job, but from then on, he was not allowed near fire, and we disposed of our important documents properly.

In the second semester of my freshman year in college, I received a call early on a Sunday morning telling me that my favorite uncle had passed suddenly. I was distraught.

I had to go to the main office on Monday to get documents to get my absence excused for the funeral. It didn’t help that I was already having a rough few months with my boyfriend cheating on me, breaking up with me, and then dating my best friend — while we all lived in the same dorm. Going to the office and waiting in line, I was just zoned out.

I ended up getting the admin who tended to be abrupt sometimes, so I just laid out what I needed, choking back some tears, expecting a quick response and maybe some documents.

To my great surprise, she grabbed the paperwork and walked around to my side of the desk. She very gently explained everything I needed to have my absence excused, and she did it in hushed tones to keep it private. At one point, she put her arm around me to give me a small squeeze.

To that lady, I just want to say thank you; you were one of the few who gave me such kindness during one of the hardest periods in my life. You didn’t have to go those extra steps, but you did, and for that, you have my gratitude.

My mom and I are at our phone provider picking up our new phones. As the techs are setting up our new phones and getting everything transferred from our current ones, they’re explaining how we have time to keep our current phones to make sure everything moved over smoothly before we bring them back to get rid of them.

Tech #1: “You can either do it yourself at home or we can do it when you bring them back, but you’re going to need to factory reset these. Make sure you have everything you want from them before you do. We can’t get anything back once they’re reset, no matter how hard we try.”

[Tech #2] glances up from what he’s doing.

Tech #2: *Defeatedly* “Or how hard you yell at us.”

When my husband and I bought our first house, it had stood empty for a little while, so our next-door neighbors, an older couple who had a big golden retriever, had gotten used to using the yard as their dog’s potty. When we moved in, we let them know very nicely that we didn’t appreciate this and that they needed to keep their dog in their yard and pick up after him if he went in our yard.

They sort of kept their dog in their yard when we were around to see, but dog piles kept turning up on our lawn. I spend months seething about this but hadn’t managed to catch them in the act. (This was in 2004, so well before doorbell cameras.)

Then, one summer day, I was in the yard doing some gardening, and the neighbor lady was out in her yard doing the same. And the dog was out, too, just romping around. As I watched, he romped over into our front yard, squatted, and deposited a sizable pile.

Me: “Ma’am, come pick up after your dog. As soon as I finish weeding here, I am going to mow the lawn, so the poo needs to be gone before then.”

Neighbor: *Not looking around* “Yeah, yeah… I’ll get around to it.”

Oh-kay.

It took me about twenty minutes to finish the weeding. The pile was still there. 

Me: “Ma’am, excuse me—”

Neighbor: “I said I would get around to it!”

Something in me snapped. I went into the garage and got the shovel. I scooped up the pile and whipped it as hard as I could at the side of the neighbors’ house, where it stuck to the siding.

This got her attention, and she stared at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Me: “I don’t want to ever find any more of your dog’s s*** in my yard, okay?”

Two weeks later, there were contractors at the neighbors’ house, putting up a fence around their yard.

I work in a travel agency. I answer the phone to a prospective customer who lives in our area (midwest USA) and is interested in going to Hawaii. I ask for details: how many people are traveling, how many days she has to travel, and what dates she’s thinking of going. Then, we get more detailed, and I discuss how many of the islands she wants to visit and the ballpark flight costs to get there. She balks.

Customer: “I’m afraid of flying, so I can’t take a plane.”

Okay, Plan B calls for the traveler to drive to California and take a cruise ship to Hawaii. That would be expensive and time-consuming but possible.

Customer: “I don’t like the ocean, either, and I won’t take a ship.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but the bridge to Hawaii isn’t finished yet, so there is no way to drive there.”

Customer: “That’s disappointing, but I’m willing to wait.” *Click*