(We have been working a special project for six weeks; most of us have been working from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm every day, but have been asked to go to 8:00 pm on certain days. I have gone the longest without a break. I am working in one section, and my boss is working on the other side of a short wall. I see a coworker walking by. This particular woman has proved to be very lazy. She’s carrying her bag. She’s been only with us for about three weeks.)

Boss: “[Coworker], where are you going?”

Coworker: “I’m going home; it’s six.”

Boss: “But everyone agreed to work until eight tonight.”

Coworker: “I’m too tired to work until eight; it’s not fair to make me work.”

Boss: “Everyone’s tired, and we have to get this project done.”

Coworker: “Well, I haven’t had a break for days.”

Boss: “You had the weekend off. There’s people here who haven’t had a day off in five weeks.”

Coworker: “Well, if you are just going to make me stay until eight, I’m going to be much too tired to come in tomorrow.”

Boss: “You’re going to be too tired to come in tomorrow?”

Coworker: “Yes, I will be. What do you think of that?”

Boss: “If that’s the case, you can go home now, then.”

Coworker: *smugly* “Okay, bye.” *starts leaving*

Boss: “And you can have tomorrow off, too. In fact, how about you don’t come back at all?

Coworker: “What? You can’t do that!”

Boss: “Yes, I can, and I have. Make sure you don’t leave anything of yours here, because you are no longer welcome here.”

(Our store is having a big sale. The lines for the register are quite long, and the telephone keeps ringing, which takes one of the cashiers away from serving. Understandably, the customers are getting a little frustrated, but on the most part they have been patient. They keep complaining about the phone ringing. The phone rings yet again and there’s a collective groan from staff and customers.)

Coworker: “Will it ever stop?”

Me: *before I pick up the phone, I turn to the customers and raise my voice a little* “COULD I ASK SOMEONE TO DO US A FAVOUR?” *I see customers’ reactions, some tense up* “COULD SOMEONE PLEASE CUT THE PHONE LINES ON THEIR WAY OUT?”

(The customers in line all immediately relaxed and started laughing. They also stopped complaining about the phone ringing, as they knew we had no power to stop it.)

(I’m in my third class of the day, with a teacher who doesn’t really like me. I start to feel terrible. I go to the teacher and ask if I can go to the office. This teacher looks at me, practically pale as a corpse, and says no, and that I’ll be fine. I manage to get to the next building over for my next class, where my teacher sees me before I even get to the classroom. She is horrified by my zombie-like appearance and immediately asks if I need to go to the office. I miraculously make it to a bin and proceed to vomit, hard. I finally get to the office, still feeling queasy.)

Receptionist: “If you want the bathroom key, you’ll have to wait. You should have gone at recess.”

Me: “Actually, I think I might puke on you.”

Receptionist: *looks up, eyes go wide* “I’ll just call your mother.”

(She calls my mother, who says she’ll come to get me. Meanwhile, I’m feeling more and more like I’ll vomit again.)

Me: “Can I please use the office toilets? I think I might be sick again.”

Receptionist: “No, but here’s a vomit bag.”

Me: “That’s not going to hold enough; I threw up a lot before. Please let me use the toilets.”

Receptionist: “No, you’ll have to go outside.”

(So, I trudge outside, out to the front of the school, and proceed to vomit all over their flower beds while cars drive by to witness the spectacle. By the time my mother arrives, I’m still outside, not puking anymore, though I still feel very sick.)

Mum: “What are you doing out here?!”

Me: “They wouldn’t let me use the toilets when I told them the barf bag wouldn’t cut it.”

(I could see she was mad as she walked into the office, but unfortunately, I have no idea what she said. We made it home without me being sick all over the car, but I still threw up a couple more times that day and had to take the next few days off school. When I went into the office on my first day back with my doctor’s note, the ladies were MUCH nicer to me, so I’m guessing whatever my mother said worked!)

(I have just pulled into a fast food restaurant after a long drive. I’m tired and not really with it.)

Cashier: “That will be $10.25, please”

Me: *hands over $20 note, thinks for a moment* “Oh, hold on. I’ll find the 25 cents.” *I hand her the coins*

Cashier: “I don’t need that; you given me too much. I don’t know how much change to give you now.”

Me: “Just give me a $10 note; I don’t want a handful of coins back.”

Cashier: “No, I can’t do that. I’ll have to explain to my boss where the $10 went to.”

Me: “You are supposed to give me $9.75, but I also gave you 25 cents, which adds up to $10.”

Cashier: “No, you are confusing me.” *gives me back the 25 cents and counts back $9.75 in change*

(I looked at the coins in my hand and wondered just how the next generation is going to survive.)

(My mother always keeps a mug full of pens by her phone, but it’s always the same thing when I need to write something.)

Me: “Do you have a pen?”

Mum: “Yes, next to the phone.”

Dad: “Good luck.”

(Despite knowing better, I go to get a pen and find it doesn’t work, nor do the rest of the pens in the mug.)

Me: “Do you have any pens that actually work?”

Mum: “What do you need a working pen for?”

Me: “Umm… To write with.”

Mum: “You didn’t say you needed to write something.”

Dad: *shakes his head* “Here, do you want a pencil?”

Me: “Thanks.”

Mum: “I don’t know why he always uses a pencil.”

Dad: “Because none of the pens work.”