CONTENT WARNING: Pregnancy Loss

This is one of the weirdest things to have ever happened to me. To start, I had a drinking problem when I was in my early twenties, and while I toyed with the idea of getting sober, I never really had the motivation. I had a coworker who was a little odd and kind of a goofball, but she was really sweet. I went in to work one day and was getting ready to head out onto the floor when she stopped me.

Coworker: “Congratulations on your pregnancy!”

Me: “Uh… I’m not pregnant.”

It was really strange, because she said it with such certainty. I didn’t think any more about it. The next day, I came in and was very excited for a party I’d be going to that night.

Me: “[Husband] and I are going out tonight. I’m getting smashed!”

Coworker: “That’s not a good idea. [My Name], you’ll hurt the baby. Could you stick to water or soda tonight?”

Me: “[Coworker], I’m not pregnant.”

She kept giving me strange looks all day, but I shrugged it off and went to the party anyway. I got wasted and enjoyed myself. The next week, I missed my period. After a few days of it not coming, I took a pregnancy test and… yes. I was pregnant. I got to work and took her aside.

Me: “Hey, so… Yeah, I’m pregnant. How the h*** did you know?”

Coworker: “Huh? I don’t know. You just looked different when you walked in, and that’s what popped into my head.”

It didn’t end here, though. About a month later, I had a miscarriage. I was devastated and had to take time off work. I went through that phase of grief where I felt like it was my fault for not listening to my coworker, even though I had no way of knowing at that time that I was pregnant. When I went back to work, she also seemed really upset for me, and she apologized over and over, even though it wasn’t her fault. 

About six months later, I was going in to work, and my coworker stopped what she was doing to look at me.

Coworker: “Oh! Hey, congratulations on the baby!”

Manager: “[Coworker]! This is not funny! Don’t you joke about that right now! Apologize to her for it!”

Coworker: “But… but she’s pregnant again.”

I had plans to go out that same weekend, and I cancelled them immediately, just to be safe. I stuck to water to drink and didn’t really over-exert myself. About a week later, I missed my period. Another pregnancy test later, followed by a visit to the doctor confirmed that yes, I was pregnant. Again. I had a healthy daughter nine months later, and it helped me finally get sober.

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It’s senior day, which means, of course, we’re slammed.

Customer: “What’s the senior discount on?”

Me: “Ten percent on corporate brand food items, and on home and apparel items.”

After I’ve finished her order and handed her the receipt:

Customer: “Can you show me where I got my discount?”

I’ve already started the next order, so I have to stop.

Me: “Okay, so it shows it here on your receipt. Only corporate brand items get the discount.”

I think that’s the end of it, but no, she sticks around until I’m done, staring at her receipt.

Customer: *Huffily* “Can you wait before starting the next order so you can explain it to me?”

Me: “…”

Fortunately, there was a manager nearby I was able to flag down to help her. Sure, just let me hold up the whole line because you didn’t listen to me the first time. That’ll end well.

I work for a big box store as a backroom employee. The core of my job is to unload trucks and stock shelves, which means I handle a lot of product and open a lot of boxes. Unfortunately for me, I have delicate hands that seem to get cut on just about anything I touch, including deodorant and blankets. I’ve tried various gloves, and I’d rather face the paper cuts than rashes from the gloves I can find. It’s a running joke at work that I consume an excessive amount of bandaids daily.

This time, I’m helping to stock refrigerated items, and lo and behold, the edge of a package of cheese nicks me pretty good. Recounting this event later in the break room, I tell my coworkers this:

Me: “It was some sharp cheddar.”

Cue a room full of groaning.

I’m the assistant manager at a big store. My store has a policy that air mattresses can only be returned if they are unopened and accompanied by the receipt. This is clearly outlined on the shelf beside the product and on the receipt.

While I am standing behind the returns desk covering a bathroom break, a girl of maybe nineteen or twenty wearing a shirt for our local college comes up with a twin-size air mattress. It almost fit back in the box, but I can see it has been opened and resealed with packing tape.

Customer: “I’ll take a refund.”

Me: “I’m sorry, our policy states—”

Customer: “Look. I don’t care what the policy says. I’m not leaving until I get a refund.”

We stare at each other for a few seconds.

Customer: “I have all day.”

Me: *Smiling* “Okay. Could you step to the side?”

I pick up the box and move it to the other side of the register.

Customer: “Finally, you f****** idiot.”

Me: “I can help the next customer.”

Customer: “Excuse me? We are not done! I said—”

Me: “—you’re not leaving, I know. You’re free to stay all day, but there will be no refund.”

Customer: “Get your boss.”

Me: “I’m the highest-ranking manager in this store.”

Customer: “YOU B****! I don’t need this!”

Me: “I cannot return it.”

She screams in my face. I don’t move, so she takes her air mattress and storms out.

Next Customer: “What are the odds she bought that for a visitor this weekend?”

Me: “Very good, I would say.”

She left a one-star review on our Facebook page, but it was quickly removed.

We are an English couple on holiday in the USA driving down the Florida Keys. Unfortunately, my husband has come down with cold/flu symptoms, so we stop at a well-known pharmacy chain to get him some medicine.

We pick up some paracetamol and some cough medicine. The cashier asks us for ID; apparently, in the US, you have to show ID to purchase cough medicine, which is not a legal requirement in the UK. I give the cashier my UK driving licence and she starts inputting the details into the till.

Cashier: “I don’t recognise this licence. Which state are you from?”

Me: “I’m not from the US; I’m from the United Kingdom.”

Cashier: “So, what state is that in?”

Me: “It’s not a state. It’s a country.”

Cashier: “Never heard of the UK.”

Me: “I am British, from England. Have you heard of England?”

Cashier: “You mean like New England? So you’re from Massachusetts?”

Me: “No, England as in part of Great Britain, or the United Kingdom.”

Cashier: “Well, the system doesn’t recognise any of those as a US state.”

Me: “That’s because it’s not a state. It’s a country.”

Cashier: “Which state is it near to, Hawaii?”

Me: “Forget it. We’ll just take the paracetamol.”

Related:
In A State Of Confusion, Part 8
In A State Of Confusion, Part 7
In A State Of Confusion, Part 6
In A State Of Confusion, Part 5
In A State Of Confusion, Part 4