I’m a driver for a luxury SUV rideshare service. We’re stationed in various places around San Francisco to be ready in case anyone needs a ride, and since parking is a bit of a premium, a lot of those spots are grocery store lots. Also since this is downtown, this particular store has an underground parking lot, and they close and lock it around 9:00 pm, an hour before my shift ends.

I only learned of this one night as I was getting ready to drive back to the depot and found myself locked in. Luckily, the staff was inside cleaning, and I learned I might have to wait a bit to be let out. No biggie for me; I am paid hourly.

Another gentleman was not so lucky. He was trying to go home but had also been locked inside! We got to talking as we waited for the general manager to finish up and come let us out of Supermarket Jail. This gentleman was starting to get upset, and he was convinced that the store closed at 10:00 pm, not 9:00 pm. He pulled out his phone and showed me the page, and indeed, there was a little indication saying that the store closed at 10:00 pm. Since this contradicted the signs on the actual store, which clearly showed 9:00 pm, I suggested he call their customer service to see about clearing up the matter.

He elected to use speakerphone and dialed the customer service number from the website. Had he not used speakerphone, I probably would have missed a crucial key to this whole fiasco…

Customer Service Rep: “Thank you for calling [Supermarket #2]. How may I help you?”

Gentleman: “Yeah, I’m outside of your—”

Me: “Wait. Did she say [Supermarket #2]? This is a [Supermarket #1].”

The look the gentleman gave me was golden, and he hung up on the poor customer service rep. I can only hope she heard my comment as well and understood why he disappeared so suddenly. The gentleman calmed down considerably after it finally clued in that he had pulled up a different store’s website, and I probably defused a bad evening for at least one [Supermarket #1] manager for the night!

We got out of the lot about five minutes later and happily went our separate ways.

I parked my car in a multi-level parking deck attached to a shopping center. There were only about five levels, but I don’t trust my sense of direction, so I made sure to consciously check and memorize the number of the level I was on when I entered the building.

When I returned, my car was gone and instantly replaced by panic.

I’m too socially anxious to talk to customer service or call the police or anything, so I paced around the parking deck for a while, back into the building, back to the parking deck again, and back into the building, panic constantly increasing. And then, I noticed that the level number I’d been looking at… was changing. After way too many seconds of confusion, I realized it was not actually the parking deck level, but the elevator’s display showing which level it was currently on — so I had carefully memorized a totally random number.

I found my car on the next level, where I had left it.

I work in the curbside pick-up department at a grocery store. I am loading groceries into a truck when the customer’s elementary-school-aged daughter leans out the back window.

Daughter: “My daddy left his wallet at the gas station where he bought me candy, so now he’s driving without his license!”

Me: “Oh, no! I hope he doesn’t drive too fast!”

Father: “I won’t, but even if I get home without getting pulled over by the police, I’ll still be in trouble. She can’t wait to tell her mother. She wants to tell everybody that Daddy’s being bad!”

CONTENT WARNING: Child Abuse

A customer comes into my bank one day in mid-August and tries to cash a check. Said check looks like it was written by a four-year-old. We go through the protocol as mandated by our organization, calling the issuer and verifying all data.

While we are going through this procedure, the woman goes off on a tantrum. She’s ripping the little pens with chains from the little desks, throwing deposit slips around, demanding to speak to the president of the bank, and verbally abusing all the employees. Likewise, she looks to have done enough speed to stay up for a week straight.

We are finally able to get ahold of the issuer of the check, and lo and behold, it’s a good check!

We cash it and thank her for her patience.

As she’s storming out cursing, two officers walk in. She has her car keys in her hand.

Officer: “Are you the owner of the [color] [Car] in the parking lot?”

Customer: “Yes? So what?”

Officer: “There’s a small child in your car. They don’t look older than two. They’ve been locked inside for more than twenty minutes — in August.”

Customer: “I… I’m on my way to him now!”

Officer: “Too late. Some good people called us, broke your car window, and rescued your kid. You’re under arrest.”

I hope to God that that little kid has found a new home or that their mom has cleaned up her act.

As I’m walking into a store, I notice a vintage Oldsmobile out in the parking lot with its lights on. I go inside and walk up to the service desk.

Me: “Could you page the owner of the vintage Oldsmobile outside? They left their lights on.”

The girl looks at me like she has no idea what I am saying.

Employee: “Is it your car?”

Me: “No.”

Employee: “Is it in your way?”

Me: “No.”

Employee: “Then I don’t know what you mean.”