I work with a guy who is not the brightest crayon in the box. The office just opened and I was sitting at my desk when he walked in the front door. Then, he stopped by my office — his office is two doors down from mine — and started talking to me. I was looking at him and realized something wasn’t right.

Me: “[Coworker], you are missing a lens out of your glasses.”

Coworker: “How do you know?”

Me: “Well, I can see that one side of your glasses has a lens and the other one doesn’t.”

He took off his glasses and set them on the desk, and I showed him the missing lens.

He freaked out and started looking around the desk for it. I picked up his glasses and handed them to him. He then looked on the desk where the glasses had been sitting for the missing lens.

Coworker: “What did you do with my lens?”

Me: “Nothing. I noticed it was missing when you walked into my office.”

Coworker: “Well, when you picked them up, it might have fallen out then.”

Me: “There was no lens in it when you set them down. I showed you that. When I picked them up, there was still no lens.”

[Coworker] frantically started looking around the floor of my office and on the desk again.

Me: “When you drove in today, did you have any trouble seeing?”

Coworker: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Retrace your steps.”

[Coworker] walked back down the hall and to the front door. 

Coworker: “It’s not here.”

Me: “Go look out in the parking lot and check your car.”

[Coworker] did so and then came back.

Coworker: “I didn’t find it.”

Me: “Did you stop anywhere on the way to work?”

Coworker: “No. I came straight in from home.”

Me: “Maybe the missing lens is somewhere in your home or in your driveway. You may need to check there.”

[Coworker] drove home and came back.

Coworker: “It wasn’t there, either.”

Me: “Okay. It’s not here or at home, so where else have you been?”

Coworker: “After work yesterday, I went to my mom’s house.”

Me: “Maybe it’s there, then.”

Coworker: *Getting angry* “No, I think I lost it when I came into your office.”

Me: “No, when you walked into my office, you were already missing the lens.”

Coworker: “No. I think that I lost it here. I think it fell out when you picked them up.”

Me: “There was no lens in them then, either.”

Coworker: “I think you lost it. Are you sure you didn’t lose it?”

I just shook my head. He walked out of my office mumbling that I had lost the lens.

He did eventually get a new pair, but what puzzled me was his thinking he lost them in my office. The fact that he thinks it’s my fault somehow is also mind-boggling.

I think [Coworker] most likely lost the lens the night before and he never noticed that he was missing a lens. Who knows? It seems he would’ve noticed that since he says his eyesight is not good, especially at night.

I got a text message from the pharmacy saying one of my prescriptions was ready to pick up but they had a problem with the other one, so I drove to the pharmacy and went inside instead of using the drive-thru like I usually do.

I walked up to the register under the sign saying “Drop-Off/Pick-Up”. An employee walked over, and I started with my name. She stopped me.

Employee: *Rather condescendingly* “The end of the line is over there.” *Pointing to my right*

Me: “That sign says ‘[Contagious Illness] Vaccines’. That’s why I went to the sign that said ‘Pick-Up’.”

The employee reached under the counter, slammed down a sign saying “Next Window” with an arrow pointing to my right, and walked away.

I didn’t say anything — I just got in line behind the one man standing there — but I was thinking, “It’s not my fault you don’t read your own signs!”

My father insists that I haven’t changed since I was about ten years old. I’m almost thirty now, and I’m visiting him and his wife with my wife in tow.

Stepmom: “We were going to order pizza for dinner. Any requests?”

Dad: “She’ll only eat plain cheese pizza. Just like always.”

Wife: “What? Her favorite is barbecue chicken and bacon with feta.”

Dad: “It is?”

Me: “I haven’t ordered a plain cheese pizza since I was a kid, Dad. Come on.”

Stepmom: “He probably thinks I gave you grape juice instead of wine earlier.”

Dad: “You hate wine! I gave you wine once, and you spat it back out!”

Me: “When I was ten! Dad, I really hate to tell you this, but… that was twenty years ago.”

Dad: “No, no, there will be no reminding me of how old I am in my house. I know you’re married and all grown up, but in my mind, you’re somehow also still about twelve years old.”

Stepmom: *Patting his hand* “On the bright side, honey, it looks like she outgrew her boy-crazy phase!”

My wife and I broke down in hysterical laughter.

I am a forty-seven-year-old woman. Due to medical problems with my womb, my doctor thinks it is best for me to have a hysterectomy. I am talking to my husband on the phone to schedule a date for it just before I leave work when my coworker comes up to me.

Coworker: “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you having a hysterectomy?”

Me: *A little taken aback* “Yes, but that’s none of your business.”

Coworker: “No woman should have a hysterectomy! It’s a violation of the human body!”

Me: “Look, [Coworker], I am forty-seven. My husband and I have enough children. I am in menopause. It wouldn’t make a difference whether or not I keep my womb under normal circumstances, but if I don’t, my Fallopian tubes have a high chance of becoming infected.”

Coworker: “But you’ll be punished if you have a hysterectomy! I read about a woman who had one about twenty years ago. She and her husband thought that three children were enough, so after she had her third child, she got a hysterectomy.”

I listen, wondering where she is going with this.

Coworker: “Anyway, about six weeks after the third child was born, the very day they moved into their new house, the mom decided to take the kids — two girls and the baby boy — out for dinner. A car hit them head-on, and all three children were killed.”

I feel a mixture of horrified — both at the story and my coworker’s lack of emotion while saying this — and disgusted at how my coworker is acting. I storm out of the room as my coworker carries on talking.

Coworker: “You’ll be punished if you have a hysterectomy! Your kids will die!”

When I arrived at home, I was crying loudly. My husband, thinking that I was hurt, asked me what was wrong, and I explained. He helped me to phone my boss later, and my coworker was moved to a different office.

After my hysterectomy, I decided to research the case in question. I found out that the driver of the other car, a woman, was given thirty years in prison, and the grieving couple eventually adopted twin girls from China.

Related:
Keep Your Nose Out Of Other People’s Uteruses! Part 2
Keep Your Nose Out Of Other People’s Uteruses!

I am trying to explain to a disgruntled customer who is demanding something outside of store policy.

Me: “Ma’am, I am afraid I can’t accommodate you. Store policy is that only a manager can approve a refund outside of the return period, and—”

I am reaching for the phone to call over a manager as I am explaining this, but she interrupts me.

Customer: “Then you should go ahead and call one over.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I just—”

Customer: “And start processing the return anyway. It’ll save time for when they get here and give me what I want.”

Me: “Ma’am, the computer is already on the screen that requests a supervisor’s employee number or card swipe. I can’t go any further.”

I try to call the manager again but am interrupted again.

Customer: “Why isn’t the computer doing the request?”

Me: “Because now is when I need a supervisor to come approve it.”

Customer: “It’s ridiculous that an approval is needed! I want to speak to someone about the poor customer service!”

I am finally able to call the manager over. They swipe their approval card and start to walk away, but the customer starts laying into them and me.

Customer: *To me* “Do you know how ridiculous it is that you couldn’t just override the approval screen?!”

Manager: “If any cashier could override it, there would be a major malfunction with the software since the entire point of approval is not to have policy overridden on a whim.”

She was still mad, but she finally left, and we were still scratching our heads after.