I work for a company that handles digital media and printing such media. We offer printing, data loading, and packing services for USBs and CDs. I work as a designer for our custom jobs, but I also handle loading the master drive with the data — the one we keep on hand for about fourteen months in case the client reorders — and proof art and data.

I have been working here for a few months when we have this guy place an order. I have the stupidity to answer my work phone when I have just sat down for lunch at my desk and barely made my salad.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. This is [My Name].”

Customer: “Hi, I just got a data proof and the sizes don’t match up.”

Me: “Okay. Let me pull it up for you. What size do you get when you check the properties of the data?”

When the customer responds, he sounds like I just spoke in a foreign language.

Customer: “I don’t know what that is, but when I calculate it on my end, it doesn’t add up.”

Me: “Okay… you should have a folder on your end with the data you sent us. You can highlight all the files, right-click them, and hit ‘properties’ at the bottom of the page. The size should be there.”

Customer: “Oh, well, I don’t have the data on my computer. Some other guy made the master I sent you.”

Me: *Dumbfounded* “Oh…”

Customer: “Yeah, so when you calculate it in a calculator, I get [amount #1] versus your [amount #2].”

I mentally jump out of my office window.

Me: “Calculating totals of data on a regular calculator won’t show the exact same amount. That’s not how data works.”

Customer: *Getting irritated* “Well, I’m an older guy so this is how I’ve done it for years. Here, do it with me.”

I just want to get this guy off the phone, so I pull up a calculator. He proceeds to go through each file and folder and calculate the KB each makes up. On my end, the calculator shows almost the exact amount. I am honestly surprised by how close it is, but that still isn’t how data works.

Customer: “See? The totals are off!”

Me: “Sir, I see that, but using a normal calculator won’t work—”

He interrupts me for the millionth time. 

Customer: “Why is it off? Are there some files corrupted?”

Me: *Getting upset now* “Sir, we had our tech guy check each file and there was no corrupt—”

Customer: *Interrupts again* “I know how we can check. Let’s do this.”

He proceeded to have me hold the phone to the speaker and play each of his THIRTY-PLUS FILES OF MUSIC DATA for a few seconds each to make sure the songs were there. It took over ten minutes because while having to listen to the music, I had to try to hear him over the music saying that I could proceed to each one. During this time, I had to clock in from lunch and didn’t even get to relax for my break. Thank God he hasn’t reordered.

The worst news is that I had to throw out my salad since the ranch had soaked the leaves and made them soggy. I didn’t eat anything but snacks that I had for the rest of the day. I pigged out when I got home for dinner.

I’ve been visiting my brother in another state, and we go to grab lunch a couple of hours before I fly back home. Suddenly, a woman walks over to our table.

Woman: “[My Name]?”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “Are you [My Name]?”

I’m trying to figure out if I know her from somewhere.

Me: “Yes…?”

Woman: “I found your wallet. Here.”

I didn’t even realize that it had slipped out of my pocket! I happened to be wearing the same outfit as when I had my driver’s license picture taken, so the woman recognized me right away. I thanked her profusely. If she hadn’t happened upon my wallet and found me, I probably wouldn’t have realized it was missing until I got to the airport.

I’m a child, waiting in line to go through customs, which is something I’ve done often by this point in time. There’s a young, fashionable lady in front of us at the front of the line. Her suitcase has gone through and she has taken off her shoes, and she’s put her wallet and phone in the bin, but something is still setting off the metal detector. The male TSA agent helping her is confused.

Agent: “Ma’am, I just don’t know why it keeps going off! You’re sure you don’t have anything in your pockets?”

Lady: “I don’t! Except this gum, but I don’t think it would set it off.”

Agent: “Neither do I, but put it in the bin and go through again.”

The machine beeps again as she walks through.

Agent: “All right. Listen. I still don’t know what is setting off this machine. We have to pat you down, but I have to get a female agent for that.”

Lady: *Patiently* “That’s all right. I’ll wait.”

The male TSA agent leaves to find a female agent and comes back a few minutes later.

Female Agent: “Are you the one who keeps setting off the machine?”

Lady: “Yeah, and we can’t figure out why!”

Female Agent: “Hon, were you wearing those earrings when you went through? They usually don’t set off the alarm, but if that’s it, we won’t have to pat you down.”

The lady takes off her earrings, gigantic hoops that lay over her shoulders. She puts them in the bin and walks through, no problem.

Me: *Taking my shoes off* “Don’t worry; I’m not wearing earrings!”

I have the very unfortunate luck to have bad seasonal allergies during this world health crisis.

I need to run some errands that my grandma normally does, but it’s safer for me to go, instead. Today, my allergies are especially bad, even with my medication, but it’s my day off of work so I gotta tough it out.

I’m at the grocery store — with a mask on, of course — when a woman walks by me with a strong-smelling perfume. Certain scents bother me a lot, and lucky me, this is one of those. I start to have a sneezing attack. Yes, I’m sneezing into my elbow. When I finish, I notice that the same woman is glaring at me — without a mask, might I add.

Smelly Perfume Woman: *Sharply* “If you’re sick, stay home.”

Me: *Caught off guard* “I have allergies. I’m not sick.”

Smelly Perfume Woman: “And I’m the Queen of England. Leave.”

Me: “After I finish my shopping.” 

I briskly walk down a random aisle in order to get away before her perfume causes me to sneeze again. I think that’s the end of it. I finish my shopping and check out, no problem. While loading into my car, I end up sneezing again. Who’s walking by but [Smelly Perfume Woman]? Just my luck.

Smelly Perfume Woman: “Why the h*** are you still here?! You’ll infect us all.”

Me: “Says the person who’s not wearing a mask.”

Smelly Perfume Woman: “I have a medical condition!”

Me: *Under my breath* “Last time I checked, stupidity isn’t a medical condition.”

Smelly Perfume Woman: *Snapping* “You need to go home if you’re sick!”

She turns her nose up and struts off, leaving me with a raised eyebrow.

Me: “That really just happened.”

Related:
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 16
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 15
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 14
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 13
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 12

A bit of backstory for anyone reading old stories years from now: there’s a global health crisis going on, and a lot of people are acting like it’s either fake or no big deal. I’m waiting for an x-ray, and I overhear some medical workers talking.

Worker #1: “Did you hear that [disease] causes a loss of ability to orgasm?”

Worker #2: “No! Where did you hear that?”

Worker #1: “My girlfriend and I made it up, but if we spread that around, maybe people would actually care.”

This story is part of our Best Of August 2020 roundup!

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