(My local pet store features animals from a local rescue that are up for adoption. One day, I’m in the store when they have two rabbits in the bin who are available. I overhear an employee talking to a distraught woman.)

Employee: “No, those aren’t ‘bunny eggs;’ rabbit poop is round like that. But if they all hatch, I promise we will find homes for all the freshly hatched bunnies.”

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(I have just gotten off my shift and I order a drink to take with me. After marking it out, I decide to get back in line to grab a pound of coffee. When I get to the handoff plane…)

Me: *to my coworker, jokingly* “Where’s my drink? I’ve been waiting for hours! You’re so slow!”

Coworker: “No worries, ma’am, your mocha will be ready shortly!”

Me: *thinking he’s joking* “I didn’t order a mocha! You fool! I want what I ordered!”

Coworker: *completely serious* “Wait, seriously? I don’t have anything else with your name on it here… Did you put a weird name on it?”

Me: “No…”

Coworker: “Did [Other Coworker] write it wrong or something? What did you actually want?”

Me: “No, I wrote it myself since there wasn’t anyone else in line at the time… It was a tall kid’s temp flat white with pumpkin spice and a pump of vanilla. Did the cup fall to the floor or something?”

Coworker: *gasps* “I totally made that and someone grabbed it! Did they really hear all that and still think it was their mocha?”

(I look around, and sure enough, there’s an angry-looking woman peering into her cup a few feet away. She approaches the counter, looking like she is about to go off on my coworker, but I interrupt.)

Me: “Yeah, that was mine.”

Customer: “But it has my name on it!”

Me: “It’s a pumpkin spice flat white… You ordered a mocha, correct?”

Customer: “Yes, but this one has my name on it!”

(By this point, I’m already irritable from being up before the sun and having to stay late on an already-long shift and all I want is to chug my sugary, fattening caffeinated beverage and go home. I’m so tempted to chew this woman out, but I’m still holding my green apron and don’t want to get in trouble or cause problems for the manager, so I have to hold back.)

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t know what else to tell you. He’s working on the drink you ordered now. What you have is a totally different drink, which is the drink that I ordered.”

Customer: “With MY name on it?! If it’s not supposed to be mine then why does it say [Name] on it?”

Me: “…because that’s also my name?”

(My coworker finishes the mocha and calls out both the drink and the name.)

Customer: “Well, whose is that since APPARENTLY there’s more than one [Name] around here?!”

Coworker: “Your name is [Name] and you ordered a mocha, correct?”

Customer: “YES!”

Coworker: “Then that one is yours. Have a nice day!”

Customer: *slams other drink on counter* “Well, I already drank out of this! I don’t know what you want me to do about it!” *storms off*

Coworker: *hands my remade drink directly to me* “PLEASE don’t let this out of your grasp because I do NOT want to go through all that again. I’m sure you need it more than anyone else here. Oh, s***, I forgot to make it kid’s temp!”

Me: “It’s fine… I’m already dead inside… Doesn’t matter if I burn the crap out of my tongue…”

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(It’s New Year’s Eve, a few minutes before the repair shop closes early for the day. I’m a customer. I walk in and end up behind an older woman. She’s paying for her repairs. The cashier finishes with her and asks if she can help me.)

Me: “Yes, I need to have some brake work done. I was hoping—”

Older Woman: “HEY! It’s New Year’s Eve and they are closing in a few minutes. You can’t just walk in and get your brakes fixed.”

Me: “I know. I’m just trying to make an appointment.”

Older Woman: “But you can’t have an appointment; they are closing soon.”

Cashier: “It’s fine; I know she’s scheduling for next week.”

Older Woman: “No, it’s not fine! You don’t treat people like this!”

(This goes on for almost ten minutes, with the older woman interrupting every time the cashier tries to explain. Finally, the cashier manages to get her father, the shop owner, to come out.)

Older Woman: “Finally! Now he can explain how rude you are!”

Father: “When did you want to bring in your car?”

Me: “Next Friday?”

Father: “That’s fine. Not sure why it was such a big deal.”

(By now the older woman has finally left. It’s past closing time.)

Cashier: “It was only a big deal because that woman couldn’t understand that making an appointment takes seconds if she shuts up and lets me do it.”

Me: “Yeah, sorry. She seemed a bit off.”

(We all hear a crash from outside and rush out to check. The woman has backed into the building.)

Father: “It seems like maybe understanding how long it takes to schedule an appointment is the least of her worries.”

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(This happens in seventh grade drama club, during rehearsals for our play. The director is going over a scene with the leading man and lady, where they dance together. So far, it’s been going pretty badly.)

Director: *getting frustrated* “You guys need to loosen up! When you say ‘I’m having such a great time,’ I don’t want the audience to wet their pants laughing because it looks like you two are in a torture chamber!”

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

(My dad can be very annoying. For some reason, he just always has to be the center of attention, and it can be frustrating. He’ll talk over you, deny he doesn’t talk over you, play loud music 24/7, hog the TV, and yell [not angrily, just because] a lot. He has issues with being ignored. My baby niece is here, and he’s gone out to get cigarettes. The baby is crying and having a series of mini seizures — she has epilepsy — because she’s upset. After having tried everything to calm her down, I finally just put some calm music on the TV. It works, and she stops crying, and her seizures subside. She goes to sleep soon after. She’s relaxed enough and has eaten, so I just put on a playlist of music to keep her that way. Cue Dad, or “Dumb As Dirt,” coming in, stomping. When he sees that I’ve got the– no, “his” TV on and have music playing, he gives a look that I ignore. Then, he precedes to take his wallet, slam it on the glass coffee table hard, and boom at me to turn it off in some “playful” way. The noise from the leather hitting the glass is loud as a bullet, and my niece jumps awake and starts having a seizure.)

Me: “DAD, WHAT THE F***?! The baby was asleep and now you’ve got her seizing!”

Mom: *from upstairs* “What the h*** was that?”

Dad: *acting totally oblivious* “What? I’m just asserting myself! This is my house! I don’t need to be quiet in my own house!”

Me: “YOU GAVE HER A SEIZURE!”

Dad: “She always has them!”

Me: “She was asleep and calm! I had that on to get her relaxed! I get it, it’s your TV, but Jesus, don’t act like a five-year-old!”

(My mom came down and told him off, which he got mad at. She took the baby after that and calmed her down. The thing is, he’s the one who makes her come over here but acts upset over her needing special attention that requires him to not be a loud a**. )

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