I get an angry call from an irate delivery customer.

Customer: “I didn’t say anything last time, but that’s twice now that you’ve completely gotten the order wrong. I want you to redo it.”

Me: “This was… the two deluxe with zucchini, right? They looked right coming out of the oven. Is something missing?”

Customer: “All of it is stuck on bread.”

Despite my years of experience, some of the stranger complaints still do shut my brain down for a few seconds while I catch up.

Me: “There’s… Do you mean a burger bun? You didn’t order any, so you shouldn’t have gotten any burgers…”

Customer: “No! All of the toppings, you stuck all of them into some kind of bread! I could barely get half the sauce back, and the mushrooms are all touching it, so I can’t eat them anymore.”

Me: “Huh? Wha?”

Customer: “Look. My husband really liked your submarines the other day. I don’t want to have to blacklist you. I haven’t eaten any of the pizza, so please, if you can just redo them, I’ll give these ones to your driver. Without the bread this time.”

Me: “Did you… you mean the dough?”

Customer: “Obviously not. It’s already been cooked. Are you new there?”

That, and the rest of that seven-minute-twenty-one-second call, will haunt me for a long time.

One day, I am sitting in my apartment when there is a knock at the door. I open the door and the mailman is there. Immediately, he gives me a really surprised look.

Mailman: “Oh… you’re here!” *Very long pause* “I’ll be back!”

Then, he walks down the hallway. I am a little confused by that interaction. Around five minutes or so later, there is another knock at the door and the mailman is there again.

Mailman: “Just to explain about that… first, I knock to see if the person is there, and then I continue with my round and come back.”

Me: “Okay… but I answered the door. Why didn’t you give me my package?”

Mailman: “Because I had to see if you were there first.”

Me: “But I was there, so why didn’t you give me my package?”

Mailman: “Because I needed to do the other apartments first.”

Me: “I’m confused. Why exactly did you knock if you weren’t going to give it to me?”

Mailman: “To see if you were there.”

Me: “Okay… Can I just have my package, please?”

I’m still confused by what exactly this guy was doing.

While I was at University, I had a summer job at a shoe store in a kind of run-down mall that wasn’t very busy. Sometimes we were feeling lazy and didn’t feel like serving customers, and we had a surefire way to get them to leave.

When a customer walked in, if we ignored them, they would often take a look around and 80% of the time ask to try some shoes on. If we wanted them to leave, we would greet them as soon as they walked in and ask if we could help them with anything, which almost always led to them leaving immediately. It was also interesting that if we simply said, “Hi, how are you today?” the answer invariably was, “I’m just looking,” followed by a quick exit.

Nowadays, when I go into a store and someone asks me how I am, I make a point of saying, “Good, thanks. How are you?”

A few years ago, I was unemployed and searching for jobs. I sent a bunch of applications and was really hoping to find work soon. One day, my phone rang while I was at home.

Me: “Hello?”

Woman: “Oh, hi. I am speaking to [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes, that’s me.”

Woman: “Good afternoon. This is [Woman] calling from [Company]. You recently applied for the Administrative Assistant position, and I am just calling today to ask you a few questions. Is this a good time to talk?”

Me: “Of course, go ahead.”

Woman: “Okay. Before we start, I need to make you aware that I am not very politically correct. There are certain types of people I do not approve of, but unfortunately, due to the company’s position on this subject, I am forced to keep working with them. Is this going to be a problem?”

I take a moment to digest what she has just told me.

Me: “I think I’m going to pass. Thank you.” *Click*

While I appreciate that the woman was upfront about her prejudice — I still wonder what type of people she was talking about — it immediately gave me a bad impression of her and the company. I feel that I dodged a bullet working for that place.

I’m visiting the doctor for my yearly checkup. The nurse, a young man, goes through the regular questions. They go in a somewhat unexpected direction.

Nurse: “Do you exercise?”

Me: “Yes.”

Nurse: “How often?”

Me: “Three times a week.”

Nurse: “For how long?”

Me: “One hour each.”

Nurse: “Do you drink?”

Me: “Alcohol?”

Nurse: “Yes.”

Me: “No.”

Nurse: “Smoke?”

Me: “No.”

Nurse: “Smoke things other than cigarettes?”

Me: “Only briskets.”

Nurse: “Is that a drug, or…?”

Me: “It’s meat.”

I see the confused look on his face

Me: “Beef.”

He looks more confused.

Me: “Cow.”

Nurse: “Are those slang, or…?”

Me: “No. It’s not a drug.”

Nurse: “And you smoke it by… lighting them on fire and sucking on the smoke?”

Me: “No. In my smoker.”

Nurse: “Um…”

Me: “My grill.”

Nurse: “Is that like a bong?”

Me: “No it’s a device for cooking.”

Nurse: “Cooking… drugs?”

Me: “No. Cooking food. Like an oven, only it’s out in your yard and you heat it up with charcoal instead of gas. Well, unless it’s a gas grill.”

Nurse: “Laughing gas? And is charcoal another word for… coke?”

Me: “I feel like this conversation isn’t quite going correctly. Can we forget this whole digression, and I can answer the question again?”

Nurse: “Okay…”

Me: “I do not do any drugs that are not prescribed to me.”

Nurse: “You have a prescription drug habit? Like, what, OxyContin? Adderall?”

Me: “I… Look. I don’t think we’re communicating well. Can I get another nurse?”

He leaves, and then I wait in the room for a while. After a bit, someone shows up with a clipboard. He checks the notes.

Nurse #2: “It says here you have… a drug habit? Are you looking to go into rehab?”

Me: “No.”

Nurse #2: “You really should. Doing drugs isn’t just bad for you; it—”

Me: “I don’t have a drug habit. I don’t do any drugs. The nurse misunderstood my attempt to make a joke, and my follow-up attempts to explain it just made him more confused.”

Nurse #2: “What was the joke?”

Me: “He asked if I smoked anything other than cigarettes, and I said I smoked brisket.”

Nurse #2: *Laughing* “That’s a pretty funny joke.”

Me: “Thanks! I thought it was, too!”

Nurse #2: “Buuut you should probably refrain from joking with medical personnel. Some of us are only running on a couple of hours of sleep, and it can make us a bit, uhhh…”

He struggles for a bit to find the word he is looking for.

Me: “Yeah. I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

And I have never again joked with medical personnel.