(I’m stocking refrigerated items in the deli. Our company has a very strict policy of items not being out of refrigeration for more than 20 minutes. A customer comes to the counter; I’m the only one available for the counter at the moment.)

Me: “Ma’am, let me put this cart in the fridge real quick and I’ll be right with you.”

Customer: “Oh, I’ll only be a second!”

Me: *leaves cart and heads to counter* “Okay, what can I get for you?”

Customer: “Uh…. hmm… What’s this?” *points*

(Our deli hot case is glass, with labels clearly describing what the item is and the price.)

Me: “Boneless hot wings.”

Customer: “Hmm… and how much are they?”

Me: “[Price] per pound. I’ll give you a second to decide, but I really need to get this cart in the fridge real quick.”

Customer: “But I’ll only be a second!”

Me: *as I’m pushing the cart* “Yes, ma’am, so will I.”

(To the surprise of nobody, I’m sure, she was in fact not “only a second” after that. I learned my lesson that day.)

I’m the stupid customer in this story.

I was in the car and just happened to know the answer to a radio station’s “name that song” challenge. I didn’t pay attention to know what the prize was, but I was so excited I knew the answer that I called in anyway. Surprisingly, I was the right caller! It was a $100 grocery store gift card, not bad! I gave my details, and they called back a week later with details on how to pick up the prize. As I’ve never won a radio contest before, I didn’t realize this meant I had to drive down to the studio during their business hours, which happened to be the same hours I worked plus at least a 30- to 45-minute drive.

I played phone tag for a week or so asking for an alternative, like a friend picking it up for me or for them to mail it to me. They said no, you have to pick it up in person with an ID. Eventually, my employer allowed me to move my lunch break to the last hour so I could rush down to the studio before they closed.

As luck would have it, rush hour was at its peak, add in road construction, a car accident on the side of the road, and a full bladder — in my rush to get out, I didn’t use the bathroom before leaving — and I was frustrated and impatient. Traffic usually doesn’t bother me. I watched the clock tick away as I sat in my car on the road-turned-parking lot. When I finally reached the office building, I ran inside, saw the dark lights and locked office door, and ran crying into the bathroom, ready to burst. I came back outside, sat in the hallway out of the way of foot traffic — except a lone, confused-looking janitor — and cried to myself.

I don’t know why. Maybe it was just the frustration building up, but a twenty-something-year-old shouldn’t be crying over a gift card. I ended up calling the station and leaving a tearful voicemail explaining how I tried my best, I was sitting outside the office seven minutes after they closed, and I would try to come back another time. I guess I sounded pathetic enough that the next day after the weekend, they emailed me a waiver form saying they would mail the gift card, but that I had to sign it saying it’s not their fault if it gets lost or stolen in transit. I signed right away and received the gift card within the week.

My family and I were out to dinner at a restaurant we had never tried before but had heard great things about. A big-name comedian was in town, so naturally, all the surrounding restaurants were packed. In making the reservation, I figured we needed to be at the restaurant at least two hours before the show, and even that would be cutting it close. 

My family thought otherwise and made a reservation for only an hour and a half before the show. We had a tough time finding parking, so we were late to the restaurant and had about an hour to get served and eat. 

I knew we hadn’t left much time to eat, so I ordered water and something quick I could sneak in my purse and eat at the show, while my family all ordered cocktails, steaks, and elaborate dishes, thus leaving no time to eat before we had to leave. They complained the entire time we were there from waiting to be seated, to waiting to get our order taken, to waiting for their drinks and meals, etc. 

We were going to be late to the show, so my family just threw a bunch of cash on the table and left, hoping it was enough to cover the meals with probably no tip, and half of my family hadn’t received any food yet, so they were pretty hangry. 

Not too long after the show started, I took out my food I had wrapped in a napkin and offered it to everyone. They were stubborn enough to refuse, so I happily ate dinner while they all grumbled and shot daggers at me throughout the show. Plan better next time, and this is coming from the member of the family who’s always late.

(I work at a gym. I’m working with a customer who needs a key for a separate workout area from the main building.)

Customer: “So, when can I check out the key?”

Me: “You can only hold the key for six hours.”

Customer: “So, when can I check out the key?”

Me: “Six hours before your reservation.”

Customer: “My reservation is at 3:00 pm; when can I check out the key?”

Me: “About six hours before that.”

Customer: “Which time is that?”

Me: “Well, three hours would be 12:00 pm, minus another three from that, so 9:00 am is the earliest you can come and get it.”

Customer: “So, I can’t check it out now?”

(It’s 5:00 am.)

Me: *rubs eyelids*

(My husband and I are the goofs in this one. We unknowingly arrive within 30 minutes of closing at a huge department store. This store is known for being notoriously busy at nearly any time of the day. As we are meandering through the store, we notice that it seems quiet.) 

Me: “Wow, this is such a nice experience. [Store] is always so psychotic.”

Husband: “Yeah, it’s pretty quiet; I’m surprised!”

(We continue to shop, but also continue to observe.)

Me: “Okay, it’s really empty now. Like, ‘something-must-be-wrong’ empty. Are you sure they aren’t closing?”

Husband: “No way! I’m sure they are open until 8:00 pm on Saturdays. I’ll double-check, but I’m sure that’s right.”

(By this time it is 6:15 pm, and we arrived at 5:30 pm, thinking we had two and a half hours to complete our shopping.) 

Husband: “Oh, no. No, we’re totally wrong. They’re closed. They close at six.”

Me: “Noooo. Hurry!”

(We proceed to literally run up and down the last couple aisles grabbing our things. I have always dreaded being “that” person, having worked in retail myself in the past, coming in close to closing and taking their sweet time. We approach one of the two open tills and begin loading our items onto the belt as quickly as possible.) 

Me: *to the cashier* “I am sorry that we are ‘those’ people. We thought you guys were open until 8:00 tonight.”

Cashier: “It’s fine. The hours are a bit confusing. But don’t worry; you’re not alone.” *gestures around* “There’s 178 of ‘those people’ tonight.”