I work audit at a hotel. We are dog-friendly — for a fee, per the norm — and for the most part, the dogs and their owners are very well-behaved.

A lady comes to check in.

Lady: “I have a pet: one dog.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, that’ll be an additional $25.”

Lady: “He’s a service animal.”

Me: “Okay, and what function is he trained to perform?”

Lady: “…He’s an emotional support animal.”

I can feel a hissy fit incoming.

Me: “…Okay. So, unfortunately, under the ADA, emotional support is not a function I can waive the fee for.”

Lady: *With a good-natured and wry smile* “Well, all right. Here’s my card.”

On one hand, I could be mad at her for trying to make that basic blanket statement. On the other hand, I respect that she didn’t try to escalate or b**** me out. She just resigned to it and paid like a well-adjusted member of society.

Five minutes later, the funniest little froufrou dog comes prancing into the lobby and starts sniffing around.

Me: “Good evening, sir! Do you have a reservation?”

He pranced back out.

Probably trying to get free coffee out of me. Shaking my head…

I am about to hand a couple their food at the drive-thru when a Chihuahua suddenly appears at the driver’s window and starts barking and snarling at me.

Me: “Oh! Wow, they came out of nowhere!”

Driver: *Endearingly* “Yeah, he’s a crazy little guy.”

Me: “Yeah, haha. Could you maybe put him aside while I hand the food over? He almost went for my hand.”

Driver: “He’s tiny! I don’t think he could reach you.”

Me: “Still, I’d rather you moved him aside while I hand the food over.”

Driver: *Moving the dog but looking inconvenienced* “When you work in a drive-thru with all this nice-smelling food, you should expect to be bitten! I worked drive-thru, and I was bitten once! I just brushed it off and got on with my day.”

The woman in the passenger seat speaks up at this.

Passenger: “Honey, you worked drive-thru at a bank.”

Driver: “You’d be surprised how badly people react to being told they’re overdrawn!”

Sorry, but you just expect me to be okay with being bitten by a dog? No, thanks.

It’s my first day working at a store, and I’m being shown around by a manager. A food app delivery guy walks in, and my manager stops talking to me for a moment to focus on the delivery guy.

Manager: “That’s breakfast for the chairman. I’ll take that.”

My manager confirms the details, and we walk over to the back while he continues to give me training information. He leaves the food in the staff lounge with a post-it saying, “For the Chairman,” and then I forget about it as we continue our day.

A week or so later, I’m getting the hang of things. I see another delivery guy from the app arrive. I’m the first member of staff he sees.

Delivery Guy: “For a… Mr. Mao?”

Me: “I don’t know who that is. Let me call over someone.”

A coworker comes over and sees me talking to the delivery guy.

Coworker: “Oh, that’s breakfast for the chairman! I’ll take that!”

Again, details are confirmed, and my coworker takes the food.

Later in the staff room:

Me: “Hey, [Coworker]. Who is Mr. Mao?”

Coworker: “Uh… I don’t know?”

Me: “I saw you take food to him this morning. His breakfast? I assume he’s the big boss, but I’ve never seen him.”

Coworker: “Oh… oh! No one told you?”

Me: “Told me what?”

Coworker: “Yes, he is the owner, I’d say. We’re all subservient to him.”

That’s a weird choice of words, but okay?

Coworker: “Follow me. I’ll introduce you to him.”

Me: *Suddenly nervous* “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t need to bother him if he’s busy or something.”

Coworker: “Nonsense. He mostly works nights anyway, so he should be napping about now.”

Me: “Napping?!”

My coworker takes me over to the warehouse, where he introduces me to the warehouse manager. The warehouse manager then takes us over to the security office, situated at the back.

Sleeping in the middle of the security office, nestled comfortably on a pile of many pillows, is a tabby cat.

Coworker: “Meet Chairman Meow: chief night shift warehouse rodent catcher, and lord emperor of the entire business.”

Me: “So… the food deliveries?”

Coworker: “A daily breakfast is ordered for a ‘Mr. Meow’ every day to say thanks for keeping the warehouse rodent-free, as ordered and paid for by the general manager, who is still subservient to the chairman.”

Our talking has awoken the cat — sorry, the “chairman” — at this point. He looks over at us with an air of disinterest and then shifts into another snooze position.

Me: “I have so many questions.”

Coworker: “We all work for the cat.”

Me: “That’s the human race in general. That’s the only thing I’m not questioning!”

I was now aware of the daily food deliveries for “the chairman,” so I helped out in that task when I could. I asked whose cat he was, and all I got from everyone I asked was a confused look and little pieces of information about how the cat had adopted the store, how the general manager works directly under him, and how if you’re lucky and get to give the chairman belly rubs, it’s time for a promotion.

I’m pretty sure that cat just wandered in one day and decided the store warehouse would be his home, and everyone else just went along with it. 

That being said, I didn’t see a single rat the entire time I was there…

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Abandonment, Attempted Animal Injury

My mom is never wrong; if she says two plus two equals five, that’s the right answer. I invited my boyfriend over for dinner. He had met my mom numerous times and knew to believe what she says with caution. After dinner, we were all sitting in the living room when my mom brought up a report she saw on Facebook.

Mom: *Reading the story aloud* “‘Sources say the driver opened the passenger side door and pushed the dog out before leaving. Another person at the rest stop took the dog in and is trying to find the person who abandoned the dog in the first place so that the appropriate charges may be pressed.”

Younger Sister: “If I ever see anyone dropping a dog out a car window, I’m gonna be crawling in that window.”

Mom: “[My Name] almost got arrested over a kitten, remember?”

Younger Sister & Me: “What?!”

Boyfriend: “When?”

Me: “That’s what I want to know. Mom, what are you talking about?”

Mom: “Yeah. It was the guy driving, and you went to the gas station—”

Me: “[Younger Sister] saw a guy swerve toward a kitten on the road and followed him to the [Gas Station] on [Street] to tell him off. He went to the bathroom and called the police, who basically told her to mind her business and left.”

Mom: “No, it was [My Name].”

Me: “No, it was [Younger Sister].”

Mom: “No! It was [My Name]!”

This became a whole argument. My mother kept insisting it was me, even though the gas station in question was a small single-location station that only existed right outside my sister’s college, nowhere near our hometown. We all had to agree to disagree because Mom was refusing to admit she was wrong.

My boyfriend eventually made an excuse and left. He didn’t answer my calls or messages for a few days, and then I got this.

Boyfriend: “Look, you’re really nice, but there are clearly huge parts of your history that you are keeping from me. I’m not comfortable being with someone so aggressive, especially if you’re not honest about it. I wish you the best, and I hope you seek anger management.”

I tried to call to explain AGAIN that it wasn’t true, but he had already blocked my number. I showed my mom and my sister the text. My mom still swore up and down that it was me, not my sister. I don’t know if it’s just her usual stubbornness or that mixed with early signs of dementia (Mom just turned fifty), but it is frustrating.

I work in a card and gift store. Some customers can make their own customised cards on a machine we keep in the corner of the store if they need something truly specific or niche.

I notice a customer designing a celebration card with a picture of a goldfish on the front, with the words:

Card: “CONGRATS! IT’S A FISH!”

Curiosity gets the better of me.

Me: “Excuse me, I have to ask, but what’s the occasion for that card?”

Customer: “Oh? This? I’m looking after a coworker’s goldfish while she’s on holiday. Apparently, the bloody thing was pregnant, and now I am looking after one goldfish and a whole bunch of eggs! I spent all day looking into how to keep the bloody things alive, and now I want to throw a little fish baby shower.”

Me: “Oh… wow.”

Customer: “Yeah, my coworker has had a really rough year, and she’s needed this vacation. I wanted her to come back to the office tomorrow and see something fun and know that we’ve kept on top of the… uh… situation.”

Me: “That’s so sweet!”

Customer: *Smiling* “Thanks. Maybe talk to your boss about getting some fish baby shower cards in here for the future, so I don’t have to do this again!” 

Me: “I’ll… pass that on up!”