I just read this story about an employee who got trapped in the bathroom at work. I’ve been trapped twice — fortunately, not for as long as that story’s author.

The first time was in a restroom in a school theater. I had a film appreciation class on Friday afternoon, and I went to use the restroom after class. I was alone in there and the lights went out. The school had motion-activated lights in most areas. Some were more sensitive than others, so after a minute of no activity, the lights would turn off. Also, this restroom had no windows.

I was sitting there in the pitch dark, waving my arms around, trying to turn the lights back on, and then I heard a click at the door. At first, I thought someone was coming in. Then, I realized that was the sound of the door locking. I found my way out of the stall and to the door. It was locked from the outside, and there was no way to unlock it from the inside. I started screaming and pounding on the door.

The instructor finally heard me and let me out. Ours was the last class of the day, and there wasn’t anything scheduled in the theater until the following Monday. He had been in the process of locking up and didn’t think to check the restrooms before locking the doors. The whole thing probably lasted less than ten minutes, but it seemed a lot longer.

The second time, I got stuck in an elevator. My area was doing rolling blackouts. The company I worked for rented a giant generator. They would announce over the PA system that they were switching over to the generator and to stay off the elevator until they gave the all-clear.

I was coming back from lunch, and with my crappy timing, I missed the announcement. I was stuck between floors for about fifteen minutes.

Yeah, I am claustrophobic. Why do you ask?

Related:
For Every Weird Thing At Your Workplace, There’s A Story Like This

I am checking tickets at a theatre that’s showing a big musical production. A woman comes in with her three young children and hands me a ticket.

Me: “Thank you, madam, but please note that the performance is for fourteen and up.”

Customer: “Oh, I know! Where can I leave the kids?”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Customer: “The creche! Where’s your creche?”

Me: “You mean, like a daycare?”

Customer: “Obviously!”

Me: “We… we don’t have one, madam.”

Customer: “Are you serious?”

Me: “Uh… yes, madam. [Theatre] doesn’t provide child daycare facilities.”

Customer: “That can’t be right! How do you expect parents to be able to come and see your shows?”

Me: “We expect parents to organise childcare, madam.”

Customer: “Do you have some kind of supervisor I can speak to? I refuse to believe that you don’t have some kind of childcare facilities!”

I call the manager over and relay the information.

Manager: “My associate here is correct, madam. We don’t have any kind of child-minding facilities and never have. Can I ask where you saw that we did?”

Customer: “Well, I didn’t technically, but it’s discrimination against parents that you wouldn’t!”

Manager: “Madam, I’m sorry, but it’s not our job to sort out your childcare, and nowhere is it stated on our published materials that it is.”

Customer: “Well, can my kids just come in and sit on the side or something?”

Manager: “Absolutely not. The show is rated fourteen and up for adult themes — not to mention that it’s also a sold-out showing.”

Customer: “This is discriminatory! I’m going to go online and tell everyone that [Theatre] discriminates against parents!”

Manager: “You are free to do so, madam, but that doesn’t change anything. [Theatre] never has and currently does not have childcare facilities, and honestly, I am surprised you would just assume we did without checking. I would imagine no major theatre in London provides such facilities.”

Customer: *Shrieks but thankfully leaves* 

I get that it’s hard being a parent, but the entitlement shocked me!

One time at my bookstore, we had a traveling group come through that was putting on a show at all the stores in the chain. It was all about the children’s book series “Junie B. Jones”, which is about a Pre-K kid. The person playing Junie B. was a somewhat short girl in her twenties. She came out and told stories and sang, and the kids had a great time.

Afterward, the kids could get their books “signed” by Junie B. In reality, it was just a rubber stamp, but the kids didn’t care; they were just amped to talk to her.

But one father was kind of grumpy about it.

Father: “You’re just stamping the books? You don’t even sign them?”

Junie B.: “I’m only five.”

The father clammed up immediately and looked embarrassed. We could tell she had gotten that question before with the speed and ease of her reply.

My favorite theatre company was doing a show that I really wanted to see, and tickets were selling fast. My partner and I were able to snag two of the last tickets in what ended up being a sold-out house. The seats were not together, but that was all that was left, so we figured we’d just hang out at intermission. It wasn’t ideal, but we were okay with it.

When the day of the show rolled around, we waited in the will-call line to pick up our tickets. The people ahead of us were complaining about something and it was taking a long time to sort out. I wasn’t paying too much attention, but the box office staff seemed confused, the patrons were frustrated, a manager was called, strings were pulled, something finally got resolved, and then it was our turn.

Partner: “I’m picking up two tickets for [Partner]. I know they’re not adjacent seats, but that’s okay.”

The box office person had a look of dawning realization.

It turned out the patron who was complaining for so long ahead of us had the exact same first and last name as my partner, was given our tickets, and was upset that the seats weren’t together. No one had caught that there were two parties of two under the same relatively common name. The box office had already shifted something around for the other guy, and he was long gone, so we got to take his seats, which were together and significantly closer to the stage.

Sorry, other [Partner’s Name], and thank you! The show was amazing!

After my high school performance of “The Sound of Music”, the student actors are mingling with audience members in the lobby. An elderly man is approaching various actors.

To the actor who played the lead role of Maria:

Man: “You were amazing! So talented! I hope you pursue a career in music.”

To the actor who played Gretl, the youngest of the von Trapp children:

Man: “You were fantastic, sweetie! I bet your parents are so proud of you.”

To the actor who played Rolfe, still in a Nazi costume from his final scene in the show:

Man: “The last time I saw a man wearing that uniform, I shot him!”