I stop at my local membership warehouse store to get gasoline. The gas prices have been high lately, but this store usually has gas anywhere from twenty to thirty cents cheaper per gallon than most gas stations. As such, it’s always busy.

Unfortunately, the layout for the pumps at this store isn’t great. There is room for maybe five vehicles to line up behind the ones at the pumps. Beyond that, the vehicles start blocking one of the entrances to the parking lot for the store. Because of this, the store has enlisted employees to help guide the drivers to move their vehicles a bit closer and provide room for people just entering.

I’ve just pulled up to the pump, gotten out of my car, swiped my membership card, and am ready to tap my credit card for payment. At this point, I can see someone in the corner of my eye kind of hovering close by. Since I still need to type in my PIN for payment, I get wary of people standing too close to me when I pay. I turn to see one of the store’s employees looking at me expectantly. I think he must have a question or something important to tell me.

Me: “Yes?”

Employee: “Are you going to tap for payment?”

I’m thinking maybe there’s something wrong with the pump. I look back to the pump and don’t see a sign or any other indication that I couldn’t pay by tapping, so I look back at the employee.

Me: “I was going to. Why?”

Employee: “We’re encouraging everyone to tap to pay when possible.”

Me: “Okay?”

Employee: “You see, all the cars are lined up waiting, and if everyone taps to pay, it saves up to forty-five seconds on each transaction. It’s a much faster way to pay.”

Me: “Yeah, I know. I would have been done by now.”

I turned back to pay, blocking his view while I typed in my PIN. I didn’t bother to see if he was giving that spiel to anyone else, but he definitely wasted my time. Even if I was swiping, I could have gotten done faster.

I work in a restaurant. I’ve made plans in advance relying on me getting out at 3:00 pm today from an opening shift (10:15 to 3:00 pm). The reason I was able to plan this is that I can see everyone’s schedules both online and on the paper copy. My replacement is supposed to be there at 3:00, meaning I can easily get out by 3:05, if not before.

That is until my replacement calls out at 1:30 pm. I tell the manager on the floor that I can only work what I was originally intended to, and she says she’ll try her best. It has always been the precedent that, as a busser, if your side work is done and your replacement is here, you can leave after checking out with a manager. The floor manager eventually gets someone to come in earlier, which means that I should be able to go without issue.

Three pm rolls around. I check out with my busser coworker who I’m leaving behind, and I go to a different manager to check out. She then proceeds to argue with me about how I “know that’s not how we roll” and such trying to keep me. I proceed to stand my ground, and she calls in the general manager. The general manager has me come into her office and sit down. They apparently expect me to suddenly work two more hours on the fly without even asking me.

I’m sixteen, I don’t have a car or license, and my ride is waiting on me. I can’t just tell them to wait for another two hours

General Manager: “So, I heard that you were intending to leave at 3:00. Why did you make plans?”

Me: “Because I could see everyone’s schedules, saw my replacement was due to come in at 3:00, and planned accordingly.”

General Manager: “So, you just assumed you would be getting off at 3:00?”

Me: “I guess?”

General Manager: “Did you call a manager to see when exactly you were to be off?”

Me: “No.”

I am astounded that I have to even think of calling a manager just to see when I will get off. I don’t think management would want all of us constantly calling to make sure we’ll be off anytime we want to make after-work plans.

General Manager: “Okay. So, you assumed you’d be getting off at 3:00. You know that isn’t how our schedules work. Just because it says, ’10:15 to 3:00 pm,’ that doesn’t mean you’ll be getting off at 3:00.”

This throws me for a loop; why bother with printing schedules in the first place? You sit here and wonder why people are upset with their schedules when you don’t even follow them yourself?

I sit there in silence.

General Manager: “The best I can do is to get you out of here at 4:00 pm.”

Me: “That won’t work.”

General Manager: “Have a little bit of compassion. [Coworker]’s grandmother just died. You were in a sticky situation, too, and people took up for you.”

This is a reference to when I had to escape a domestic abuse situation and was unable to work.

Me: “I am truly sorry, but I cannot cover for him.”

General Manager: “So, you’re saying you have to leave right now? Are you sure you want to deal with the consequences?”

Me: “Yes.”

General Manager: “All right. This will be your final written warning. This cannot happen again.”

Me: “Okay.”

General Manager: “I’m very disappointed in you. I thought you had a great work ethic and you were mature and responsible. Now my opinion of you has been changed, probably permanently.”

Me: “Okay, that’s fine.”

General Manager: “You’re free to go.”

I’m going to be putting in my two weeks on Tuesday, along with a written letter disputing the write-up. They tried to get me to sign the write-up, but I declined and said I had a response in writing that I would be submitting. They frustratedly agreed and let me continue my shift the next night.

My gynecologist’s office is terrible at keeping track of appointments. Here’s how I found out about that.

It is one of those offices where, if you have an appointment at 10:00, you’ll be seen by 11:00 if you’re lucky. That alone is annoying, and I try to get the earliest appointments possible to avoid the backlog. I stick with the office because the doctor is very nice.

In an attempt to save paper, I started not taking the “Your next appointment” reminder cards with me but instead just wrote down the time I was told. (There is no reminder call on these frequent appointments.)

Once, I went there a few minutes past 10:00, as my appointment was at 10:15. 

Me: “I’m here for my appointment, for [Last Name].”

Receptionist #1: *Annoyed* “Well, you are quite late.”

I was confused because, yes, I only had a few minutes left, but normally, I had to wait for at least half an hour if not longer, anyway.

Me: “I have the appointment at 10:15.”

Receptionist #1: “No, your appointment was at 10:00. The 10:15 slot already has a different patient in it.”

Given the fact that a regular appointment here always took longer than fifteen minutes, I suddenly realised why everyone always has to wait so long.

Now, I was annoyed. 

Me: “I was told 10:15.”

Receptionist #1: “No, the appointment was at 10:00.”

Had the actual time been 11:00, I might have blamed myself for mixing it up, but I am pretty certain I would not randomly add an odd fifteen minutes to such an easy time as 10:00. However, the receptionist didn’t even consider that it could have been a misunderstanding or a mistake on their side. She was absolutely certain that it was my fault. Luckily, I still got to be seen that day; however, I was told it might take longer. I even heard her tell the doctor they had to move slots because I “didn’t keep my appointment”.

From that day on, I ALWAYS took the little “Your next appointment” reminder card with me.

Fast forward a while. I had another one of my semi-annual appointments. In a sudden moment of caution, I packed the card with my appointment time and headed there. This time, there was a different (much nicer) receptionist.

Me: “I have an appointment at [time] for [Last Name].”

The receptionist checked the computer.

Receptionist #2: “I don’t see that here.”

Me: “Oh, but it is definitely now, look!”

I handed over the reminder card.

Receptionist #2: “Huh, now that’s odd!”

Me: “Well, I don’t know what to say. That’s the time I was given.”

Receptionist #2: “No, absolutely, the card proves it! Go on into the waiting room. I’ll settle this.”

I was also seen that day, but it would probably have been much less pleasant if I hadn’t had proof. I don’t know if their computer system sucks or if someone is just rubbish at entering appointments. Keep your cards, kids!

Related:
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 19
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 18
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 17
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 16
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 15

This happened a few years ago, back in 2017 or something. I was visiting my friend who lives in Seattle for a few weeks, and this was also my first trip to the USA; I live in Scandinavia.

After a few weeks, it was time for me to travel back home. I didn’t have to be at the airport until the evening, so we spent the day in Seattle, having a blast. I checked with my friend when I should be at the airport, and they said I should be fine with an hour or an hour and a half before my flight leaves, so we decided to drop me off at 18:00. Keep in mind, I was only twenty, I hadn’t traveled too much without my parents, and I also didn’t know the American airport rules, so I didn’t think of checking this myself; I relied on the information my friend gave me, assuming they knew. (Just so it’s said, I don’t blame my friend for anything. I should’ve checked things myself.)

We got there at like 17:50 and said our goodbyes. I walked in with my suitcase, looking for the check-in for my flight. But I couldn’t find it. I started to stress a little and walked back and forth looking for it. I don’t remember how I found out, but I apparently had to check in at the “other airlines” desk, or something like that, which was a tiny desk at the very back.

When I found the desk, it was 18:01.

Employee: “I’m sorry, but we closed check-in at 18:00.”

I immediately started to cry — like BAWLING. The tickets were like 800 to 1000 dollars, at least, and I couldn’t afford a new one. I had a complete breakdown, called my father, and freaked out.

Father: “I’ll figure out what to do and call you back in a minute.”

Meanwhile, the woman at the desk was typing furiously and looking at her computer for anything to help me. I’m sure she saw how upset I was, and I’m not sure if she felt sorry for me. But she found a flight the next day at 13:00. It was even a direct flight back home, while the one I was supposed to take had to land in Amsterdam. She put me on the flight and told me when to show up, where to check in my luggage, etc.

And… I didn’t have to pay anything. She never said anything about how much it cost or how to pay or anything. I never saw a bill. I didn’t really think about how kind that was of her, so I remember that in the midst of panic, I never really thanked her besides a rushed “thank you”. I regret it to this day. I don’t know the policy for rescheduling a ticket, but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be fairly expensive since it was my fault for not showing up at the right time. But this might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

This happened in the early 1990s, during the start of the registered pharmacist shortage. I was paying off school loans and trying to save up for a house, etc., so when I was called for extra shifts, I rarely turned them down.

On this particular day, I was off and laying in bed. At 8:45, my phone rang. It was my district manager.

Manager: *Sternly* “I need you to be in [Store] by 9:00.”

This store was an hour away from my house, and I had never worked there before.

Me: “I’ll go in, but I can’t get there until 10:00.”

Manager: *Gruffly* “No! Be there at 9:00!”

Me: “Look! It’s an hour-long drive, so I will get there as soon as I can, but it won’t be by 9:00.”

I got there just before 10:00. In walked my district manager with four of his higher-up bosses, and he immediately started berating me in front of them and customers.

I took it for a couple of minutes, hoping he was just trying to impress his bosses, but he started getting worse and worse about how bad the store’s inventory, tech budget, etc. were.

I’d had enough. And since, at that time, a pharmacist could get a job the next day, I lit back into him.

Me: “You know good and d*** well that I’ve never even been in this store before and that those things aren’t my fault! If you’re going to humiliate me in front of your bosses, then consider this my two-week notice.”

I never heard from the district manager again, but his bosses all came back down to try to talk me into staying.