I’m a singer, “pro” by formation but it’s not my career, nor how I win my life. I’m also the owner of a duplex, occupying the first apartment and renting the second. Insonorization is pretty good, but it is a nice warm day and everyone has opened the windows. Also, because of the recent health crisis, my tenant lost her job, and school was canceled for her eight-year-old son, which causes them to be home when I don’t expect them to be.

As I often do, I start a playlist to sing for an hour or two for practice and fun. About thirty minutes in, there’s a knock on my door. It’s my tenant, looking rather angry.

She explains to me that her son heard me sing, and now he’s “asking questions.”

She states that and crosses her arms, looking at me with bulging eyes.

I don’t understand and ask what’s the problem, thinking that maybe I was too loud or that she had some hate against singing in general.

Tenant: “I don’t care if you sing, but what you sing! How dare you be howling obscenities like that in front of children?!”

Now it clicks: while I do opera and classical, I also do popular music. Some songs are in the “sexy” range, but it’s all stuff you could hear from any radio station without censorship.

Me: “Well, there are no children here in my apartment. So much for ‘in front of children.’ Second, it’s the first time I was made aware I was heard from your apartment and I have been renting for fifteen years at this point. Also, I sing what I want; I could drop F-bombs and you would still get no say with that choice. I guess you’re lucky that I elected not to. Otherwise, the lyrics are rather clean in themselves, and out of context it doesn’t mean much.”

Tenant: “But now my son is asking questions! What are you going to do about it?”

Me: “Me? Nothing, he’s all yours to educate.”

Tenant: “It’s all your fault! You deal with it!”

I think it’s pretty funny and I can’t help but smirk.

Me: “So, you want me, the landlady who’s ‘howling obscenities’ to teach your son about the birds and the bees, then answer and explain, in detail, all about what he just heard in the songs? Really?”

I think she changed her mind because she turned around and left without a word.

When I am a teenager looking for my first job, the market is really bad; they are requiring two to five years of experience to be hired in “beginner jobs” like cashiering or waitressing. They are picking on every single thing they can to weed people out, as many are looking and few are hiring. The struggle is real.

I am finally called to interview for a salesperson position at the mall in a cookware shop. It is all fine until the woman interviewing me starts to tell me about the dress code.

Interviewer: “So, we have a semi-professional dress code here; you might be asked to change.” 

Me: “No problem. From what I’m wearing now, can you tell me if it’s doing it, or if some part should be kept for home?”

I’m not so confident about the clothing part, despite believing I’ve made a good attempt. 

I have no tattoos or piercings. I just have mascara and gloss for makeup. I’m wearing a pair of black ankle winter boots with zips on the inner side and a mini belt-like strap going around, fancier plain black pants, a long-sleeved blue button-down shirt, a small silver pendant with a blue stone, and a two-centimetre-wide black bracelet with a blue ribbon laced in a tiny bow matching the shirt color. 

Interviewer: *Sternly* “Well, the accessories have to go.”

Me: “Oh, okay. I kind of expected that. Better not wear anything that can get caught in anything, right?”

Interviewer: *Going up and down* “Yeah, and those boots definitely won’t do it.”

Me: “No worries. Indoor shoes are more appropriate to spend the day in.”

Interviewer: *Judging* “The shirt doesn’t really make it, either.”

Me: “Oh, so, just the pants?”

Interviewer: *Staring* “Hmm, yeah… but it would be better if you didn’t dye your hair black like that.”

I kind have been positive until this point, but I try to keep my thoughts positive; clearly she’s not giving me a feel for the dress code anymore but is still hopeful to give me a job.

Me: “I don’t dye my hair; it grows dark brown on its own.”

Interviewer: *Like it’s a revelation* “Oh! Then don’t wear those icy blue contacts; it’s a weird color combo.”

I don’t understand this because I clearly have prescription glasses on, and no one has ever mistaken my eyes for contacts before. Yes, they’re blue, but they’re ordinary, nothing so unnatural or unique. 

Me: “That’s just my eyes. If I had contacts on, the natural color would peek in the middle, especially if it was a darker color.”

Interviewer: *Not believing me* “Uh-huh. The glasses aren’t looking so good, but if you must.”

I don’t bother answering.

Interviewer: “Anyway, we’ll call you back if anything…”

Blah, blah, blah, closing speech…

I don’t know what her problem was, but I don’t think my fashion choices were the problem there. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t get that job.

At my restaurant, many of our orders are takeout orders placed by phone. Since we’re one of many in the area, a common mistake customers can make is confusing locations and placing their order at another location instead of ours. If that happens, we’re usually able to identify the misunderstanding and send them on their merry way to the sister location that actually has their order waiting for them.

We’re in the middle of a dinner rush when a regular known to be grumpy and rude comes in.

Regular: “Order under [Name #1].”

Our cashier checks but finds no order under that name. She proceeds onto the standard troubleshooting:

Cashier: “Is there another name it could be under? Do you know what’s on the order?”

Regular: *Already agitated* “I don’t know! My wife called it in. Try [Name #2].”

No dice, which at this point most likely means they have mistakenly placed their order at another location.

Cashier: “Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be an order under those names. Do you know which phone number your wife called? It might’ve been [Location #1] or—”

Regular: “No, I know she called here! I’m sure of it! We only come here! Are you telling me that you don’t have our order? That’s just ridiculous!”

He starts berating the cashier for our supposed incompetency, necessitating an intervention. Finally, we convince him to phone his wife for confirmation, which he does while still angrily muttering about us losing his order.

Regular: *On the phone* “I’m here at [Restaurant] and these girls are telling me they don’t have our order!” *Pause* “What?” *Pause* “You didn’t order here? And you have it already?” *Pause* “Well, why didn’t you tell me earlier?! Now you’ve made me look stupid!”

He hung up and left without so much of an apology, of course.

A customer calls late in the afternoon on a Friday, when most insurance adjusters are gone for the weekend and body shops are closed. His truck was in an accident for which he was not at fault, and he’s looking for an update on his claim, as there have been delays due to a part that was hard to find.

Customer: “I haven’t had a vehicle for weeks now! Why is this taking so long?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but it looks like the part they were looking for was located two days ago, so we’re probably just waiting for it to arrive.”

Customer: “I called the shop yesterday and they said they were still waiting for you!”

Me: “It seems the part was ordered by the appraiser, who works for us and not for the body shop, so it’s possible they weren’t yet informed when you called. But I can confirm it’s been located.”

Customer: “Well, I’m still without a truck!”

I check his contract, which includes coverage for a rental, even in the case of an accident in which he’d be at fault.

Me: “Oh, has a rental not been offered to you? I see that it’s included in your coverage and would be covered in any case since you were not at fault.”

Customer: “Well, I’ve been nice and didn’t take one.”

Me: “Well, sir, I don’t know what to tell you. You pay for that protection specifically so that you’re not without a vehicle during repairs if the body shop doesn’t have a courtesy car to offer, especially if the repairs take longer than the four expected days we initially thought they would last.”

Customer: *Pause* “I’ll call back on Monday for an update.”

Related:
Absolutely Trucking Mad

I am an industrial automation technician in a manufacturing plant and, as such, I write programs for our different systems. We have one of those “know it all” engineers who loves to tell me how to do my job but doesn’t have a clue what it’s about.

As an analogy, he’s a biology engineer and doesn’t know how to use a hammer, but because he adds windshield washer himself in his car, he figures he can tell a mechanic how to repair the transmission.

We get a new machine. It comes all assembled with its own control computer with the program/software they developed. We’re talking a half-million-dollar machine.

The engineer comes to me while the supplier is installing the machine.

Engineer: “Go with them and see how the program is made. It might be helpful.”

Me: “Why? It won’t be of any help. It’s their program and it’s locked. I can’t do anything to it.”

Engineer: “Yes, you can. We bought it.”

Me: “What you bought is the user’s license for it.”

Engineer: “Yes. We have the license, which means that you can modify the program in it.”

Me: “When you get Windows or any other OS, you buy a license. Does it gives you the right to alter it?”

Engineer: “Well… yes, when I install Word or something else, I’m modifying it. We have other machines of the same brand and you program them. Just go and look up their software to get how they program it so you will be able to modify it.”

Me: “That’s not the same. I can’t modify their program because it’s locked, write-protected. I can’t open it without the proper password. It’s their intellectual property. Their copyright. I have no right and no way to even access it. I can install Word but I can’t modify it.”

Engineer: “Yes, you can; we bought the license.”

Me: “The operation license. Not the source code.”

It took me close to half an hour of arguing to make him understand the difference between a proprietary software and an open-source one, or a machine you buy blank and program the way you want to. Even then…

Engineer: “I’ll ask them. Come with me. They’ll tell you.”

Me: “You go on. I have something to finish here first.”

I didn’t follow, and he never talked to me again about it. I guess “they told him.”