(My son is 18 months old. I am planning on entering him in daycare and returning to work. I check around, and choose a daycare in part because of the above and beyond training the staff all have, including comprehensive (instead of emergency only) first aid training, annually. About three weeks after I enroll him, I get a call at work from a frantic daycare worker, who speaks perfect English, despite what happens next.)

Worker: “Your son was climbing on a chair and fell. He hit his head quite badly. There is a lot of blood coming out of his ear, and he hasn’t moved in 15 minutes!”

Me: “Is he talking or doing anything!”

Worker: “No, he hasn’t done anything at all since he fell. Maybe you should come pick him up.”

Me: “Call an ambulance. That’s very serious. Call right away. I’ll be there soon!”

(I throw my keys at my boss, barely tell him that my son is hurt and I have to go, run out of work, and drive like an idiot, all while picturing the most horrible things, and arrive just as the ambulance gets there.  The ambulance attendants and I rush inside to find my son calmly lying in a staff member’s lap, getting read to, trying to reach up and grab the book closer to himself. When he sees me he gets up and runs over to me, gabbing away the whole time. The staff member I talked to originally turns to me and the ambulance attendants.)

Worker: “That’s the first time he’s gotten up since he fell. He’s been lying in her lap reading books for the last half hour. We checked him over and he’s nicked his earlobe, which HAS bled quite a lot. That’s why I thought his mom should pick him up, but she insisted I call the ambulance, so I thought I better comply. Lawsuits, you know.” *stupid giggle*

(The ambulance attendants were extremely disgruntled to be called out for something that clearly wasn’t an emergency of any sort, and the worker keeps trying to blame me (‘New parents! Always overreacting to normal childhood bumps and bruises. Insisted I call an ambulance, etc.’) I may have lost it a little bit, yelling at her that her wildly inaccurate description of his injuries is why I insisted on her calling the ambulance, and that she had caused not only a huge waste of time for emergency services, but also extreme anxiety for me in her effort to make the story seem more interesting, or whatever her problem was.)

(I am working at a pumpkin patch and we have to move the rotting pumpkins to a huge garbage bin. I and two coworkers have the pumpkins in a ranger, a huge garbage bin, and are throwing them into the dumpster. [Coworker #1] throws the pumpkin and it hits [Coworker #2] on the head, like, smack dab in the middle of the head.)

Coworker #1: “OH, MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?!”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, I blacked out for a bit but I’m fine.”

Me: “Oh, god, hold on; let me get someone!”

Coworker #2: “I’m fine; I’ve had a concussion before I know the drill. Let’s finish this!”

Me: “What? No, I need to get someone! You said you blacked out!”

Coworker #2: “It’s fine; I’ll have my sister wake me up every few hours.”

Coworker #1: “She says she’s fine. I didn’t mean to hit her anyway.”

(Against my better judgment, we finished the pumpkins and all signed out and went home. [Coworker #1] called in the next day and I saw she posted on her FB wall she was in the hospital with, guess what? A concussion!)

(A customer brings a pair of shoes to the front with no price tag, so I use our store headset to ask one of my coworkers to check for it.)

Coworker: *via headset* “It’s $2.99.”

Me: “For a pair of shoes? That can’t be right. Let me get [Nice Manager].”

Coworker: “He’s on break, so it’s just [Manager I don’t like]. Maybe the shoes are on clearance. Look, all I know is that what our database says.”

Me: “Okay… If you say so. You’re sure?”

Coworker: “You know, it’s a little insulting you keep asking me if I’m sure. I have 20/20 vision, and I’m going to [Local University]. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing.”

Me: “Okay, okay, sorry.”

(I adjust the price, regardless of my doubts. When you do a price change you have the option of adding a note as to why you changed it that’ll show up on the store’s receipt but not the customer’s. I type in the whole story, including coworker’s name and price.)

Me: “Okay, so, it turns out it’s your lucky day. These shoes are $2.99. They must be on clearance or something!”

Customer: “REALLY? Wow, I’m shopping here all the time, now. What great deals!”

(The customer leaves and I go on doing sales. When the manager I like comes back from break, I show him the transaction I was iffy about.)

Manager: “[Coworker] told you that [Brand] shoes were $2.99 and you believed her. We just lost almost $50! You’ve been here for three months; you should know the price of basically everything in the store. [Coworker] has been here for almost a year; I find it hard to believe she said these shoes were $2.99. You know, being responsible means—”

Coworker: *on headset* “Oh, [My Name], I misread the label. The shoes are actually $29.99. My bad.”

Manager: “What?” *grabs my headset* “Who do you think you’re fooling, [Coworker]? They’re $45.99. Are you trying to get [My Name] in trouble?”

(My coworker got called into the manager’s office. She got written up and sent home early because the manager only wanted “people he could trust” working the floor.)

(My friend is at a gay bar during Pride Weekend in Canada. While there, a rather douchey American guy tries repeatedly to hit on her. She tells him several times that she isn’t interested but he keeps trying. Eventually, he stumbles over to her, quite drunk, and says loudly:)

Guy: “Hey, have you noticed how many [homophobic slur]s there are in here?!”

(A few people around him give really weird stares.)

Friend: “Er… What do you expect? It’s Pride Weekend.”

Guy: “Pride Weekend? What the f*** is that s***?”

Friend: “Well, it’s a weekend for LGBTQ people to celebrate being themselves.”

Guy: “What’s LBTGQ?”

(A couple of her friends laugh loudly at this.)

Friend’s Friend: “Sweetie, take a look around; you’ll have your answer!”

(Almost immediately the guy’s eyes bulge out of his skull.)

Guy: “WHAT? YOU MEAN I’M GONNA BE STUCK HERE WITH [SLUR]S ALL WEEKEND?! THAT’S F****** SICK! THAT GUY SET ME UP!”

(He bolted outside. My friend later saw him yelling into his phone at someone about how they had “set him up.” My friend and her buddies had a good laugh about it. Can’t imagine that guy made too many friends that weekend.)

(We have just moved into a new house in a new city. My adult son and I both need new beds. The two of us go into a store that sells beds and are met by a salesman.)

Salesman: “Welcome to [Store]! What are you looking for today?”

Me: “I need a firm mattress and he—” *points to son* “—needs a soft one.”

Salesman: “So, we need something in the middle, then?”

Me: “I am not planning on sleeping with my son! We need two beds!”

(Very sheepishly, he showed us around the store.)