I upgraded my bank account, which meant I needed a new debit card. I waited a few days for it to arrive, and once I opened it, I stared at it for a few seconds in shock.

The three-digit code on the back of the card was 000.

I thought they had somehow given me a fake card, but it worked when I made a purchase at a store, so I figured I would keep it for a bit.

A few weeks later, I was getting ready to move when I saw a set of pots and pans I wanted to purchase on a major retailer’s website. I added it to my cart and put in my information. Then, I received an error message: “Please enter a valid CVV.”

It turns out their system was not recognizing 000 as a valid code, so I decided to call customer service and place the order over the phone. I reached a representative and she found the set I wanted. Then, I gave her my information.

Representative: “What is the CVV?”

Me: “000.”

I heard her typing, and then she paused for a minute.

Representative: “I’m sorry, but that is not a valid code. Please tell me the three digits on the back of the card.” 

Me: “I did. It’s 000.”

Representative: “I’m sorry, but that is impossible. Please read the numbers carefully.”

Me: “I am. It’s 000. I’ve used this card in stores before, so I know it works.”

Representative: “I don’t know what to tell you. It is showing in my system that this is not a valid number. You can try going to the store, but it probably won’t work there, either.”

I finished my call with the representative and went to their store. The card worked. 

Unfortunately, I lost my wallet a couple of months later, so I had to get a new card, and it has a real CVV number now. It’s probably for the best. That card would’ve gotten hacked eventually, anyway.

I have been an assistant manager for quite a few years now and I used to ask customers, “Delivery? Okay, is it going to [Address]?”

Then, this woman called.

Me: “Is this going to [Address] [Motel]?”

This woman flipped her lid!

Woman: “Why would it be going there? The last delivery went to [Motel]? [HUSBAND]! What the f*** were you doing at a motel?!”

She hung up on me.

Now I say, “And what’s the address you would like that delivered to?”

My husband and I are at the grocery store and get into the checkout line after picking out our items. There are two customers in front of us: one with a bigger order that the bagger has almost finished putting into the customer’s reusable bags, and then another who only has a few items. The bagger finishes with the first customer’s order and is handing off the cart to her when the customer, an elderly lady who had been chatting with her friend, lashes out.

Customer: “What?! You have to zip every bag! I don’t care if it’s not refrigerated; every bag has to be zipped! Don’t you know anything?!“

By the time she finishes yelling and harrumphs off with her cart and friend, the customer between us and her has been checked out, and the cashier has moved on to our order, pushing our reusable bags down the counter to the bagger. I move up toward the credit card machine and look at the bagger, who is clearly still shaking off the encounter with Ms. Must-Be-Zipped.

Me: *To the bagger* “Don’t worry; our bags don’t have zippers on them.”

We were all masked, but I could tell she smiled under the mask, and I heard laughs from at least three cashiers around us! I made sure (as always) to thank the cashier and the bagger each personally for their help.

After moving to a new state for school, I find a job in a small mall retail shop that’s just opening up. For the first month, things are okay, except we keep having delayed openings because there is only one manager/keyholder and they are chronically late. I suggest that I can be a keyholder, and the manager agrees to arrive early to give me a key and walk me through opening procedures and come back that night to do the same for closing.

I arrive early only to find the store locked. I text the manager, no reply. I wait outside, and they arrive two hours later, a full hour after the store is meant to open

Me: “Is everything okay? I got here early so you could walk me through opening.”

Manager: “Oh, you know how it is. My college best friend was back in town, I showed them a good time, and I was just too hungover to get up this morning.”

Me: “Okay, but the opening—”

Manager: “It’s really very easy. I’m sure you can figure everything out yourself!”

Me: “I will definitely need your help with closing out the register, though.”

Manager: “Right, yes, I will be here for that.”

I work a split shift, running home midday to eat lunch and run errands and then heading back to the store.

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], where’s [Manager]?”

Coworker: “They’re taking a friend out for drinks and dinner. They’ll be back for closing.”

Me: “They’d better; otherwise, it’s just you and me.”

The afternoon and evening are busy, we run out of several items (only a manager can do reorders), and we run out of change (only a manager has the combination to the safe). I text the manager more than once. Less than an hour before closing, I get a response.

Manager: “You are ruining my night! How am I supposed to have fun with my friend when you’re nagging me all the time? I’m shutting off my phone.”

Me: “But we’re closing soon, and I have no idea how to count my drawer or do—”

Manager: “Figure it out! How can you expect to be a keyholder if you can’t work under pressure? I’ll see how you did tomorrow morning.”

Me: “I worked a split shift today and have the day off tomorrow.”

Manager: “No, you need to come in. I don’t know how late [Friend] and I are going to be out, and you’re the only other keyholder.”

Me: “You haven’t trained me in any of the keyholder responsibilities!”

Manager: “Figure it out. See you tomorrow morning sometime.”

After we closed — and I did my best with the register and procedures — I left a list of the items we were out of and pinned it to the board along with my name tag and newly-made store key. At the bottom, I wrote, “Figure this out!” and went home. I ignored all calls and texts and never went back to the store. It closed within six months.

I’ve been having a lot of stomach problems. My doctor orders a CT scan. This shows a small abnormality in my colon. He sends me to a gastrointestinal specialist, who orders a colonoscopy, as he is concerned that I have something that could turn serious if left alone. The first one available is a month later, on a Monday morning. My doctor also tells me that I’ll be under anesthesia, so no driving until the next day.

My job is pretty strict about requesting time off early, so I figure a month is more than enough time. I go to work and tell my boss that I’ll need that whole day off.

Boss: “Oh.”

Me: “Yeah, it’s a pain, I know.”

Boss: “Can that be moved?”

Me: “Only if it’s for a really good reason. Why?”

Boss: “I’m leaving for vacation the day after, and I was going to take that day off to get everything ready.”

I stare at my boss in disbelief.

Boss: “I need time to pack! So, can it be moved?”

I take a deep breath and attempt to stay calm.

Me: “The next available date was two weeks later, on a Tuesday. Since I have to be on a liquid diet and a very strong laxative the day before, this would require me to take two days off. Would you rather I take two days instead of one?”

Boss: “No, I would not. The original appointment is fine. So, you’ll be in afterward, right?”

Me: “Say what?”

Boss: “I mean, I know you said you needed the whole day. But I had this thought. Your appointment is in the morning, so you take the morning off and come in after lunch. Then, I can take a half-day. Problem solved!”

She smiles proudly. My composure slips.

Me: “Have you ever had a colonoscopy?”

Boss: “Nope! Why?”

At my request, my GI doctor has told me exactly what the procedure will entail. This helps calm my anxiety about the whole thing. I decide to put that knowledge to use, as I know my boss doesn’t like medical descriptions.

Me: “After two doses of an extremely powerful laxative, I have to be put under general anesthesia so that they can stick a camera and a probe up my a** to make sure I don’t have Crohn’s or cancer. And I haven’t even mentioned the tissue sample that he’ll have to take from my intestinal lining. This will likely cause post-procedure bleeding. You want me to come into work after having this done?”

My boss pales, makes a face, and holds up a hand.

Boss: “Stop! I didn’t need to know any of that. I assume your answer is no?”

Me: “Obviously! Plus, I can’t drive for eight hours after being put under.”

Boss: “Someone could drive you in.”

Me: “Have you ever been under anesthesia?! I have, twice. It makes me extremely loopy. You want me handling cash after that? I’m not coming in. End of discussion. Now, are you going to approve it or should I take it unpaid?”

Boss: “Well, now that you put it that way, I guess it was a pretty stupid question. I’ll approve it in the system.”

She walked away, muttering under her breath that I didn’t have to make her look that dumb.

The colonoscopy went without a hitch, and to my great relief, I did not have Crohn’s or cancer! I was eventually diagnosed with IBS, aggravated by stress. My doctor informed me that this can mimic Crohn’s.

I have a different job now.