Guest: “I noticed there were room charges on my bill.”

Me: “That’s kind of how it works; you don’t get to stay for free.”

(I’ve never liked going to the dentist, but this incident really made me hate it more than usual. It’s just a normal annual teeth cleaning, uncomfortable but bearable, but when the hygienist was using the polish, a chunk of it broke off and went down my throat. I started choking and the hygienist had to stop the cleaning for a moment to let me clear my airway.)

Hygienist: “Quit being such a drama queen.”

(I was furious, and made sure to tell my mom about it when I was done. I don’t know if she told the dentist about what happened, but I never saw that hygienist again.)

(I am spending Christmas Eve with my boyfriend’s family and we are poking fun at each other when we have this little exchange:)

Boyfriend: *cuddling his dog*

Me: *teasing* “I remember when you used to cuddle me like that!”

Boyfriend: “Babe, do you really want me to cuddle you like I cuddle my dog!?”

Me: *over-dramatically* “I just feel so left out!”

Boyfriend: “Fine, you asked for it!” *pulls me into his arms and starts ruffling my hair the same way he ruffles his dog’s fur*

Me: “Agh! Stop, stop, stooooop!”

Boyfriend: “Hey, you said you wanted to be cuddled like my dog.”

Me: “I was kidding.”

Boyfriend: “And I gave you a taste of your own kind!”

(The moment he said that, we both collapsed into laughter, while his mother looked at as though we were aliens.)

This story is part of our Cuddle roundup!

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(I am 18 years old but I have a job as a mystery shopper. The people who run the mystery shopping company like to use me because people do not expect 18-year-olds to be mystery shoppers. I go into a department store to evaluate them. I overhear some workers gossiping about a possible mystery shopper coming in the next few weeks, without realising it is me. None of them greet me as they are too busy gossiping, which I note in my phone as a strike against them. An older gentleman with a small notebook and pencil comes into the store, and all the employees rush to greet him, leaving me on the sidelines.)

Me: “Can I see this in a size eight?”

Employee #1: “Yeah, in a sec, hon.”

(She ushers the older man to a chair and basically waits on him hand and foot. I wander around the store waiting for another employee to notice me, but none of them do.)

Me: *to another employee* “Sorry, can I get this in a size eight?”

Employee #2: “Can’t you see I’m busy? I’m helping that gentleman. Shouldn’t you be in school, anyway? You can get in trouble for truancy.”

(I end up being able to pull an employee away by threatening — very loudly — to call corporate. They do not want the customer who they think is the mystery shopper to overhear me, so they send what seems like the youngest employee to help me.)

Me: “Finally. Can I see this in a size eight?”

Employee #3: “Are you sure you’re an eight?”

Me: “Yes.”

Employee #3: “Let me measure you.”

(After I turn out to be an eight — go figure, but she gets points for going out of her way to help a guest find the right size — she goes to the back room for ten minutes — I time it — and comes back with the right shoe but the wrong colour.)

Me: “Um, I wanted this in blue.”

Employee: “Oh, yeah, we ran out of blue last week.”

Me: “Did you know that when you went into the back?”

(While I am talking, the employee is biting her lip and looking over my shoulder to view the older man. As part of my mystery shopper evaluation, I HAVE to buy something from the store. I do love the shoes, so I end up buying the colour she gave me. Once she hands me my shopping bag, she turns to leave, but I stop her.)

Me: “By the way, he’s not the mystery shopper.”

Employee: “How do you know?”

Me: “How do you think?”

(Her jaw dropped as I walked out of the store. Oh, and they failed the evaluation.)

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I’m in the hospital for debilitating migraines. The pain is vomit-inducing and has no discernible cause. After a slight abnormality shows on the CAT, they send me for an MRI.)

Doctor: “So, we didn’t find the cause of the headaches, but we did find a blood clot, so we’ll be giving you some new medications.”

(My mom and I are horrified at the idea of a blood clot in my brain, of course, and before we can come to terms with what that means the doctor is gone.)

Mom: “Okay, you are NOT moving from this bed! One bad move and the clot could shift, so you have to be INCREDIBLY careful!”

(For two days I barely leave my bed, even to go to the bathroom. They book more tests, but none to do with blood clots. Finally, two days later…)

Mom: *interrupting Doctor* “Okay, a lumbar punctures will help the blood clot how exactly?!”

Doctor: *surprised* “Oh, the clot is old and in a drainage artery. There’s no danger of that hurting the brain!”

(If we hadn’t been so relieved I think my mom would have throttled that doctor for making her think her daughter was on death’s door for two days!)