When I was pregnant, my brain started working in very mysterious ways. According to my midwife, it was a normal thing. I could go to the fridge, open it to get something, and as I had my phone in hand, I placed it on a shelf, forgetting it there as I closed the fridge. During two pregnancies, in total, I have lost two ID cards, one passport, and one credit card, all of which were found a couple of weeks later — after blocking them or alerting the police so they would not be valid any longer.

I also lost three pairs of gloves. I had expected the cost of new clothes, etc., but pregnancy turned out to be much more expensive than I had thought. That is just to give you an idea of how forgetful and confused I was at this time. This story happened during my first pregnancy.

I went into the grocery store, just to get something quick to eat. I wasn’t very good at walking due to my hips not faring too well with my pregnancy, and despite only being halfway through it, I was already quite big. I had a small backpack instead of a purse, to ease the strain on my back. Since I was only going to get that small thing, I did not bring any cart or basket to put it in; I could hold it in my hand… I thought.

Pregnancy cravings took over, and it became just a little more than I could carry, so I thought it was a really good idea to put one of the items in the backpack. Now, technically, it wasn’t forbidden, but it was frowned upon to do so before it was paid for; however, I was pregnant and thought I had good reason.

I went to the self-checkout and scanned my items. Then, I got flagged for a check. The employee came over and started looking through the items, scanning them again. He went on routine and didn’t seem to think anything about it.

I, though, had just remembered the item in my backpack! I had forgotten it in there! On top of this, I have this annoying fear of being accused of bad things, so I must admit, I thought about just leaving it there. However, my good side prevailed.

Me: “Oh, um, I forgot this one.”

I pulled the item out of the bag, and he stared at me for a moment.

Me: “I’m sorry, I just realised it now.”

Employee: “No worries. It happens.”

He scanned it, and I got to pay and be on my way.

After that, I ALWAYS double-checked everything — my bags, pockets, and whatever else could hide anything I might’ve taken on the way. I always checked it several times! And it was lucky I did, because every time I went into that store for the next months, I got flagged for a check. Realising someone was keeping an eye on me, I also started waving to the camera every time I went in.

It felt nice somehow, strangely enough, like greeting a friend.

Our library rents its space from a community centre. One of the many services we provide is that we have a few study rooms that can be borrowed for a few hours at a time by organisations that need a meeting room.

A couple of years ago, we were contacted by a non-profit adult education organisation who asked if they could borrow our largest study room for a few hours once a week for a class they were giving. We said sure, no problem. They asked to come see the room, and the following conversation happened.

Educator: “No, this is much too small. We need a room for about twenty-five to thirty students and a teacher, as well. Don’t you have any larger rooms?”

Me: “Sorry, this is the largest room we have. We have a couple of others, but they’re all smaller.”

They looked around the library as if hoping another room would magically manifest itself.

Educator: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure. This is all of the library you’re looking at right now.”

Educator: “Because I know there’s a large auditorium in the building…”

Me: “Yes, that belongs to the community centre. If you want to rent that, just talk to them.”

Educator: “They don’t loan it out for free, though.”

Me: “Afraid not.”

Educator: “Well, we can’t afford that. What if we move that wall?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Educator: *Points to the wall of the meeting room* “I know there’s another meeting room right next to this one. If we take out that wall, we’d have one big meeting room instead of two small ones.”

Me: “Well, first of all, that other meeting room belongs to the community centre, so you’d have to pay rent for it. Second, that wall is a solid brick wall, and taking it out would require a major renovation of the building.”

The educator looked hopefully at the — I cannot stress this enough — BARE RED BRICK WALL.

Educator: “Are you sure?

Me: “I’m pretty sure that’s a load-bearing wall, so yeah.”

Educator: “Oh. Well, if this is the best you can offer, I guess this room will have to do if they really squeeze together. So, can we book it for two hours every Wednesday?

Me: “Of course.”

Come Wednesday, about half the number of promised students showed up. The teacher that the educator had booked never turned up, though, and we had to deal with the students’ understandable anger at this. We tried to get in touch with the educator but never heard back, and we cancelled the future bookings.

My mother suffers from misophonia, a disorder that makes you very sensitive to certain sounds. We are all handling it the best we can, but sometimes it gets a little difficult. 

Mom: “Can you please stop doing that?! It’s driving me crazy!”

Me: “Doing what?”

Mom: “That sound you’re making. Please stop.”

Me: “Um… do you mean breathing?”

She eventually agreed that it was perhaps an unreasonable request.

I schedule appointments for household appliance repairs.

Customer: “I need help; our dishwasher stopped working.”

I go through my usual checklist. What seems to be the problem? Is it gushing water? Is it actively on fire? Then, I go to the calendar to set up an appointment with a repairperson.

Me: “The earliest I can fit you in is Thursday morning. Is that okay with you?”

Customer: “But that’s two days from now! I need help immediately!”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have anyone to send; we’re fully booked until Thursday.”

Customer: “You’re not listening to what I’m saying. This is an emergency! Do you understand?”

Nothing she has told me so far has been anywhere close to an emergency.

Me: “What kind of emergency would that be?”

Customer: “We’ve run out of clean plates! How are we supposed to eat?”

I am a small village librarian, and I also live in the small village where I work, which means that, to many of the locals, I’m simply “The Librarian”.

A regular patron comes in one morning, furious about having received a late notice. He is adamant that he returned his magazine. Mistakes happen, so I go to check the shelf, as well as any other possible place it could have ended up.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but we can’t find this anywhere. How about I just renew the loan for you, so you can double-check at home and we can double-check here?”

Patron: “No! I know I returned it to you! I got the reminder message two days ago, and I walked over and returned it as soon as I got it!”

Then, I have a small epiphany. [Patron] lives a few houses down from me. Postal service in the past few years has been a joke, and I don’t rely on it any more than I have to. Post is delivered three times a week at best, so unless I’m waiting for a delivery, I only check my mailbox once a week.

Me: “[Patron], did you leave this in my private mailbox?”

Patron: “Of course I did! Why should I have to walk all the way here just to return a magazine?”

I went home and checked my mail, and yes, the magazine was there. [Patron] was told to use the library’s overnight return slot in the future.