I recently had to call my primary care office to schedule an appointment.

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name]. I need to schedule a four-week follow-up with [Doctor].”

After the usual checks and some typing…

Scheduler: “She has a 9:00 on Friday, August 18th.”

I don’t really want a doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning.

Me: “Does she have anything else? A tele-visit is fine.”

Scheduler: “Do you have a preference for another day or time?”

Me: “No, just not… then.”

I hear more typing.

Scheduler: “What about 2:30 on Monday the 24th?”

Me: “Um, that’s this Monday? No, it needs to be a month out.”

Scheduler: *Suddenly huffy* “Well, that’s why I asked!

I’m not sure if she forgot that she was scheduling a four-week follow-up but it still seems strange that my rejection of the Friday 9:00 am slot sent her looking days rather than weeks out. We ended up arranging it for an appropriate Tuesday afternoon.

I work as a receptionist for an urgent care center where I have to wear scrubs. I am checking a patient in when she suddenly says to me:

Patient: “Oh, you’ve got a blessing.”

I look at her blankly.

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patient: “You’ve got a blessing on the way.”

It dawns on me.

Me: “Oh, I’m not pregnant.” *Laughing nervously*

Patient: “Then why are you wearing such a big shirt?”

Me: “Because I lost some weight and haven’t had a chance to buy a smaller one?”

I’m staying at [Hotel] in [Small Town] for the first time, and there isn’t much information about their restaurant on their site. I do know that I don’t have breakfast included in my booking.

Late in the evening, I go to check the restaurant’s opening hours.

Night Man: “Oh, the kitchen’s closed, I think, but you can get tea right now. Here’s the hot water and everything. Help yourself.”

At that point, I don’t want tea. In the morning, I learn the kitchen’s exact opening hours at the reception, and:

Me: “So… should I pay for the tea over there?”

Receptionist #1: “Oh, no, it’s free.”

Okay, I believe that, especially since it was free at [Guest House] where I stayed the last time I visited [Small Town]. I drink that tea with my breakfast — the food I’ve bought elsewhere.

The next morning, I get to the restaurant when breakfast is already drawing to a close and [Receptionist #2] is obviously clearing everything up.

Me: “Can I still have the tea now?”

Receptionist #2: “What’s your room number?”

I tell her.

Receptionist #2: “But you don’t have breakfast included. Only the water’s free; the tea costs 50 rubles.”

Me: “Oh, I’m awfully sorry, but I was told by your colleague yesterday that it was free…”

Later that day, I come to the reception and hand over a 100. I explain everything and say it’s for the past two days’ tea.

There are two receptionists on duty, and with my terrible facial memory, I can’t be sure if I talked to either about the tea, but I’m almost certain one of them is [Receptionist #2]. Both receptionists assure me:

Receptionists: “Oh, please, [My Name], it’s all right! Keep that!”

100 rubles is just a bit over $1 in current rates, so I know it was no big loss for them to make this tea on the house, but I really appreciate their friendliness about the whole miscommunication — especially since I’m incredibly nervous around strangers and often go to pieces after making mistakes.

To avoid trouble in the future, I simply bought a box of tea bags from a supermarket. With the amount of tea I drink, it’s the most economic solution.

This happened a few years ago when I was moving from Tennessee to Wisconsin. I put in my thirty-day notice with my apartment complex and set up a day when my apartment could be inspected for damage.

When the day came, I went to the office to let them know we were ready for inspection.

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, but no one is available but me, and I can’t leave the desk.”

Me: “We need to get on the road. Is there anything you can do?”

Receptionist: “Just go. We’ll contact you about the results of the inspection.”

I left the address of the place I was moving to, and we left.

The apartments I was moving from were undergoing restoration, and they hadn’t gotten to my apartment yet. All that was left in my apartment were some folded moving boxes that we didn’t need.

About a month after getting to Wisconsin, I got a registered letter — costing the sender over $3 — telling me that I owed $3 for some damage in the bathroom of my old apartment and that it was due the next day. The apartments were being renovated, which meant they were tearing out a lot of the bathroom and redoing it, so any damage should have been taken care of with that.

I didn’t call the apartment complex; I called the district manager, who used to be the complex manager. He told me not to worry about it, as he would take care of it.

Seriously!

This happened to a friend of mine at her new job as a receptionist for an accounting firm. [Friend]’s coworker is giving her instructions for [Client], who is coming in in the morning to drop off paperwork.

Coworker: “So, he’ll give you these [accounting documents] and [secondary accounting documents], and those need to go to [Boss]. And [Client] is upset about [tax law], which we can’t do s*** about because it’s the law, so be prepared for that, okay?”

Friend: “Get the papers, put them in [Boss’s] mailbox, and tell [Client] to drink some coffee. Got it.”

Coworker: “…You really don’t mind people getting mad at you, do you?”

Friend: “I worked the opening shift at [Popular Coffee Shop] for five years. ‘Drink your coffee and chill out’ is my solution to most grouches.”