(After bringing my phone in to have the SIM card from an old phone installed, it won’t connect to the network, so as advised, I have come back the next day to see if it can be fixed.)

Assistant: “Sorry, this phone is too old; it won’t work with our SIM card.”

Me: “But I had one of your SIM cards in a phone older than this just yesterday.”

Assistant: “Yes, but we transferred your number to a newer SIM card which isn’t compatible with your phone.”

Me: “Okay. So, change it back.”

Assistant: “Sorry, there’s nothing we can do.”

Me: “What about the old phone?”

Assistant: “That won’t work anymore, either, because we gave you a new SIM card.”

Me: “So, what do I do?”

Assistant: “You have to buy a new phone.”

Me: “Hang on: I came in here with a working phone and another that could work. Then, after I gave them to you, I have two completely unusable phones?”

Assistant: “Yes, you need to buy a new phone.”

Me: “No, I need to speak to your manager.”

(The assistant gets a manager.)

Manager: “So, my employee explained the situation, and yes, you’ll have to buy a new phone.”

Me: “No, that’s unacceptable. You changed my SIM card without telling me or explaining that it might not work in an older model phone. I had a working phone until I gave it to you, and now I have none. You need to fix this.”

Manager: “There’s nothing we can do.”

Me: “I don’t believe you.”

Manager: “I can escalate this to the store manager, if you like.”

Me: “Please.”

(The store manager comes out and I explain the problem to him.)

Store Manager: “Ah, I’ve seen this before; we just need to do a full factory reset.”

(He resets the phone and it works perfectly.)

Store Manager: “Yeah, sorry, a lot of the employees out in the front don’t really know how this stuff works.”

Me: *after a pause* “Thanks.”

(I work nights at a gas station and I’m usually on my own. One night, though, I have the company of a contractor who has been asked to repair the fraying vinyl flooring. This means that we can’t let any customers into the store for safety reasons, and since customers need to come into the store to pay for their fuel, we have to shut the pumps down, as well. I go out and put “out of order” signs on all the pumps, I put bright orange cones across both entrances/exits, and place a sign on the door advising customers that we will be closed for an hour or so whilst the floors are being repaired.)

Me: *to the repairman* “With no customers around, I will be able to give the coffee and slushie machines a thorough clean.”

Repairman: *chuckles* “People will still try and come in. Trust me; I’ve been doing this for years.”

(I don’t believe him; with the door sign, out of order signs on the pumps, and orange cones across the entrances? Surely not. But he is right. We get a few night-owl customers who come on foot as they live nearby and they buy late-night snacks and cheap pastries just before we throw them out for the day. Despite the sign on the door, there are a few who still bang on the doors wanting to come in.)

Customer #1: “Can I come in?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, it’s dangerous. The floor is being fixed; you can’t walk on it.

Customer #1: “I just want a slushie and a box of donuts.”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. I can’t let you in.”

Customer #1: “Can you bring me some, then? I’ll tell you my PIN number; you can swipe my card!”

Me: “No.”

(They leave in a huff. But what tops off my night is the customer who taps on the window next to the counter where I am restocking the cigarettes and calls out:)

Customer #2: “Your fuel pumps aren’t working!”

(I look at him incredulously. I’m not sure I’ve heard right.)

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer #2: “None of your fuel pumps are working. I’ve tried them all!”

Me: “I know, sir, we’re closed for an hour or so for maintenance. That’s why the ‘Out of Order’ signs are on them.”

Customer #2: “Oh… okay. I was wondering about those signs.”

Me: *can’t resist asking* “How did you get your car in here? I put cones across the entrances.”

Customer #2: *looking at me as though I am an idiot* “I just moved them to the side and drove in. Simple.”

(I shake my head in disbelief as the man gets back in his car and drives away. I am amused when he stops his car just after he drives out of the parking lot, gets out, puts the orange cones back across the exit, hops back in his car, and drives off. I glance at the floor guy who is chuckling under his breath.)

Repairman: “I told you so!”

(I’m in a hotel at the breakfast buffet, where they have a self-serving station for tea and coffee, complete with little teapots and milk jugs. I am filling my own teapot when I notice the last milk jug has just been taken. I wait a while for a staff member to become available and then flag them down.)

Me: “Excuse me, are there any more milk jugs in the kitchen?” *motioning where they have been sitting*

Waiter: “What do you want?”

Me: “Oh, for milk, a creamer, a milk jug?”

Waiter: *still looks confused*

Me: “About this big—” *motions with hands* “—and you put your milk in it for your coffee or tea?”

Waiter: “Oh, something to put your milk in? Okay.”

(She returns a couple of minutes later with a milk jug and hands it to me. She then immediately walks to the milk station and picks up the only bottle of milk, about three-quarters full, and walks away with it. I wait for her to return with the milk bottle a few minutes later, having added a bit more milk to it. She notices me waiting at the same spot, and says:)

Waiter: “Oh, you wanted milk, too?”

(I work in a science centre. We have a regular who comes in and is adamant that her kid is a genius, frequently telling us how her kid could attend the teenager-focused lectures and get more out of it than the teenagers, how she’s been teaching her friend’s kids maths, etc.; it’s just that she feels shy today and that’s why she isn’t speaking in the full sentences her mother says she can definitely do. This child is two, and while bright and attentive, she seems about on par with other two-year-olds. We’ve always wondered if the parent sincerely believes this and is a little delusional or if she’s lying for attention. We give her a wide berth as she gets upset if we treat her child like a normal two-year-old — offering her toys or colouring, speaking to her in a “patronising tone,” etc. But we overhear her talking to the other parents.)

Mother: “We came all the way here to look at the Christmas lights and they haven’t even got them on today? That’s ridiculous! Why even have them if you’re not going to switch them on?!”

Other Parent: “Well, they don’t run them during the day.”

Mother: “Well, that’s stupid. Some of us have small children. It’s not practical for us to come out at night. They should have them on during the day so we can enjoy them, too. [Child] was just devastated that the city doesn’t think she deserves to see the Christmas lights!”

([Child] is currently eating paper and chewing on texta lids and having a great time.)

Other Parent: “No, as in, they don’t have them on because you wouldn’t be able to see them during the day.”

Mother: *scoffs* “Of course we can’t see them; they’re not on.”

Other Parent: “No, because the lights wouldn’t be visible during the day. Even if they were on, you wouldn’t be able to see them, because the sun is so bright they would look like they’re off. There’s no effect during the day.”

Mother: “You’re being ridiculous; you can still turn lights on during the day. Electricity doesn’t just stop working when the sun is out.”

Other Parent: “Yes, I know that, but you wouldn’t be able to see… You know what? I think my son needs the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Mother: *to me* “God, can you even believe how stupid some people are?”

(New theory: her daughter is a genius because the bar is set very low.)

(It is just before Christmas and my parents and I have flown interstate to spend the holidays with my sister. We are all heading down the highway back to her house, with my sister and mum in the backseat chatting away and me sitting shotgun, leaving my dad driving. We end up taking an exit too soon. Had my dad taken the correct exit, the speed limit we are traveling at, 100km/h, would have continued for some time. But instead, the speed limit for the exit we do take rapidly drops down to 80, and my dad, in his flustered state at having gotten lost, misses all the speed signs. Lo and behold, there are the cops. We get pulled over.) 

Officer: *to my dad* “You were doing 96 in an 80 zone.”

Dad: “We are visiting my sister, and I am unfamiliar with the roads.”

(When my flustered dad ends up starting to repeat himself, the officer cuts him off saying that he will be back after checking his license. In Western Australia, if you’re found speeding at up to 9km/h over you only get a $70 and no demerit points; however, at 10 to 19 over it’s $330 and two demerit points. Considering it’s just before Christmas, it’s double-demerit point season, leaving my dad facing a $660 fine and four demerit points. My mum is now having a go at my dad, getting him worked up, and he proceeds to enter what we call “the bombastic mode,” and as such, all information will go in one ear and out the other.)

Officer: *returns to the car* “Because you are travelling interstate and visiting family, and it’s the holiday season, I’m going to be lenient with the charge and only book you at the lower offence: $140 and zero demerits.”

(Bombastic Mode Dad proceeds to not take a word of this in and starts arguing with the officer, again saying how we had gotten lost etc. I lean over, grab his arm, look him dead in the eye, and say:)

Me: “Shut the f*** up.”

(I then look over at the officer, smile, and say:)

Me: “Thank you, officer. My dad really does appreciate you only fining him for a minor offence and not the higher offence, for which—” *death glares my dad* “—HE IS 100% AT FAULT. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a pleasant day, and don’t have to deal with any more morons today.”

(I release my tight grip on his arm and sit back. My dad then sheepishly takes the ticket and his license and thanks the officer, and the officer walks back to the patrol car.)

Mum: “You’re a f****** idiot.”