I got a job in construction as a labourer when I was fresh out of college. My mum would pack me food to eat in the breakroom, which I stored in the fridge. Someone would steal it, and I’d be sad and hungry. When I caught the guy doing it, he laughed: “What are you going to do about it?”

The guy was a contractor while I worked direct. There wasn’t much I could do about it. My workmates told me to just ignore it; he’d be gone in a few weeks anyway, but I was fuming and a little hangry. I confronted the guy, but his workmates didn’t say anything. He laughed and ended things by saying, “Go make your food un-eatable then.”

This brought me down a rabbit hole that would consume the rest of my life.

I went straight to the shop and bought out the hottest hot sauce I could find on the shelves. I added it to everything I took to work. I ended up liking it so much I started using it at home too. The guy called me a prick for spiking my food, and it never disappeared from that site again.

I started using more and more hot sauce before realising I wanted more. I wanted hotter. I bought some hot sauces online. (Psycho juice if anyone is interested) I started by buying some 70% Red Savina. I moved on to 70% ghost pepper and eventually Carolina Reaper. I became obsessed with the high I would get from eating it.

I started buying everything hot I could find. Popcorn, pork scratchings, nuts, fudge, chocolate limes, spice rubs, and capsaicin extract. You name it, if a hot version exists, I’ve probably bought it. I added it to all of my food. I go to restaurants either with a jar of spice rub or a bottle of hot sauce. I added ghost pepper flakes to my cooking. Anything not chillied wasn’t edible for me. My friends and family thought I was insane.

Fast forward about ten years. I’m still into chilli. I’ve moved industries a few times and changed jobs many times. My food has disappeared one other time. All the people I work with know, a new guy came in and stole my food. They accused me of spiking my food and trapping them. I got a laugh out of listening to my friends laughing at him, saying, “Dude, he does that with all of his food.” The lads love it when I bring in some weird Carolina Reaper snack. I’ve had two people with tears streaming down their faces, chucking UHT milk warm from the cupboard.

I’ve just finished growing my first ghost pepper plant. I bought a bottle of blue dragon siracha, chopped two chillis up fine, and added that to the sauce, which is what prompted me to make this post. This all happened because someone stole food from an eighteen-year-old labourer.

I was switching between the register and customer service. An older lady came in with her grandchildren, wanting to find a gift for the older boy. I gave a few suggestions at her request, but she shut down all my attempts. I let her do her thing and choose for herself. Finally, after shuffling through everything, she went to pay.

Customer: “I’d like the points on my [Store] account.”

Me: “You have a $2 discount, but sadly, this item is non-discountable because of the brand.”

She was not happy. She raised her voice.

Customer: “Why do I have so little saved up?!”

Me: “The only way to have points is to buy stuff more often.”

The price was $23. She leaned in and asked, in a hushed tone:

Customer: “Could you do me a favor, since I’m a very good client?” *She’s not.*

Seeing as I wouldn’t budge regarding the discount, she angrily threw the toy.

Customer: *To me.* “You’re not very bright!” *To her grandson.* “It’s too expensive! Choose something else!”

The child had a tantrum and threw himself down. After everything calmed down, she went to pay for a different toy. I scanned it, and it was $25. 

This time I could apply the $2. 

She looked smug.

Customer: “Now I can have my points!”

So… this lady really made a scene to finally pay the same amount that was “too expensive” minutes ago?!

Well, that was a weird day.

I get a tech support ticket sent through.

Ticket: “Need help with the Outlook.”

That’s it. That’s the entire ticket. Most users are courteous enough to post screenshots or detailed descriptions. Not this person. Also, an executive.

Me: “I’m sorry, but your request is lacking in detail. Are you getting error messages? What are you trying to do exactly?”

User: “Outlook offline and spotty.”

Me: “Can you send a screenshot?”

A screenshot is sent. The issue, which he didn’t explain for crap, was that Outlook’s Work Offline toggle was enabled. Kind of important information to exclude, but whatever. That’s an easy fix.

Me: “Search for Work Offline in the search bar at the top of your Outlook window and toggle it under Actions. That will fix the issue.”

User: “No, it just returns results about offline emails.”

Fine. Maybe he didn’t notice it; the search results can be crowded. We can do the direct option instead.

Me: “Open the Send/Receive tab. The toggle is there.”

User: “I can’t toggle it.”

Me: “You click, and it does nothing?”

User: “Yes.”

Fine. Maybe Outlook glitches out. It’s happened to me.

Me: “Please open AnyDesk so I can troubleshoot.”

He opens it surprisingly fast, all things considered. I get connected, navigate to Send/Receive…and click it. It works without issue. Outlook returns to ‘Connected to Microsoft Exchange’ mode. 

Now, at this point, my blood was boiling because he had demonstrated a complete ineptitude at clicking buttons. Thank God this wasn’t a phone call, or my frustration would have been laid bare against my better judgment.

Me: “It’s fixed. Your mailboxes are updating.”

User: “No, it still says working offline.”

Naturally, that’s nonsense. I watched the Working Offline prompt switch to Connected to MS Exchange with my own two eyes. Maybe he didn’t see it yet?

Me: “It’s connected. It says so in this area.” *Hovers above the Connected text.*

User: “No, it still says Work Offline.”

That’s when I noticed. He wasn’t looking at the area I was POINTING TO, he was looking at the literal Work Offline toggle.

Me: “That’s just the toggle, sir. That won’t change in real time. The status below says Connected.”

User: “But why does it still say Work Offline? That means I’m offline.”

I’m fed up. I open my own Outlook. I sent him a message. Politely, of course.

Me: *Via Outlook.* “Your Outlook is working online now. This message would not have arrived otherwise.”

The user is still for a few moments.

User: “Thank you.”

We both disconnect. I’m still dumbfounded several hours later.

Our hotel has one room left. Everyone was checked in already, and I was waiting for the clock to strike 10 PM so I could go home. At around 9 PM, I get a call from a hotel a town over.

Other Hotel: “Do you have a double room for two people?”

Me: “Only a twin room for 100€ a night.”

Other Hotel: “They will take it.”

Twenty minutes later, sure enough, an older gentleman arrives and says he is from the hotel that called, ready to check in for two people.

Me: “Welcome to our hotel. I will just need ID or a passport.”

He provides me with three passports.

Guest: “It’s my two kids. I have the older one in the car.”

Me: “The room is a twin bed; it will be hard for three of you to sleep there.”

Guest: “Actually, we are four.”

Me: “So you book a plane the same way? Buy two tickets and hope you will get free seats?”

Guest: “What does it matter? They are five, seven, and twelve!”

It was raining really hard outside, and I had no heart telling them no; I knew everything else was booked.

Me: “The room is a twin bed, how you will sleep is your problem, not mine. The price does go up, however, it will be 200€.”

Guest: “What? So much?! For kids?”

Me: “Our rate for four people in the family room is 250€, I’m giving you a discount. Take or leave it.”

He did take it and had the audacity to complain that there were only two of everything: pillows, covers, towels, etc.

That has happened three times in one week. I somewhat understand for a baby that parents don’t say they will be traveling with one, but for kids that age? Trying to get lower prices on every turn…

When I was in the fire academy, the women’s dress code said that hair had to be worn in a neat bun. I had layered, shoulder-length hair, so it was difficult to keep it up neatly all day long. The shorter pieces would stick out of the bun, or fall out around my face, and my bangs weren’t long enough to pin back without using an entire bottle of hairspray.

Most of my instructors were understanding and said that as long as my hair was up and my mask could seal to my face, they would consider me to be in dress code. But there was one instructor who said there was no excuse. “We’re a paramilitary type of school, so dress code is extremely important.” She acknowledged that it wasn’t a safety issue, but told me I had to follow it anyway, and that doing my best wasn’t good enough. She wrote me up three times and then called me in for a meeting to inform me that another write-up for the same issue would get me expelled from the program.

I looked into the dress code and saw that the men’s hair code was much more lenient. It just said that hair must not touch the collar of the shirt or the tops of the ears.

So, the night after that meeting, I went to a hair place and told the stylist to do whatever she wanted to my hair as long as it fit those requirements. She was stoked and gave me a really cute pixie cut.

The next day, the same instructor tried to write me up, but since I was technically in dress code, she couldn’t.

The next semester, there was a man with long hair who wore it in a bun instead of cutting it, and the following semester, the dress code was rewritten to be gender neutral.