I am selling something online. I provide my Whatsapp number for messaging but I am surprised when I get a call from an American number claiming interest in my item.

Caller: “I figured since I will be in San Francisco this weekend I could just swing by and pick it up?”

Me: “That’s great, except I’m in London. Nothing in my ad says I’m in San Francisco.”

Caller: “So that’s like… what, East Bay?”

Me: “What? No… London. London, England.”

Caller: “So down near Mountain View?”

Me: “No! London. With the bridge. The Queen lives there.”

I hear someone else on the caller’s side speak up.

Person With Caller: “What’s going on?”

Caller: *Replying* “I don’t know. They’re saying they’re a queen in San Francisco.”

Person With Caller: “Drag queens, honey. They’re called drag queens in San Francisco.”

I wonder if there is a confused-looking woman now wandering the streets of San Francisco looking for a drag queen with a used toaster oven.

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I’m a senior staff member. On Saturday evening, the store where I work had about £70 worth of jewellery stolen. The individual was savvy and did it off camera so we only have a few details, and they describe most of our typical customers. As such, we are a bit stuck.

On Monday evening, one of the college-age workers comes in, phone in hand, and as though she’s on a mission.

Me: “You okay, [College Girl]?”

College Girl: “Are [Management People] in?”

Me: “No, I’m acting supervisor until 4:00 pm. Why?”

College Girl: “I got the thief admitting it on camera!”

It turned out it was her friend’s friend, who bragged about stealing the jewellery in front of the college girl, who happened to be filming at the time.

We are a multinational company, with coworkers from the UK, Germany, and France. Everyone seems to get on really well and most of us socialise outside of work, as well. Part of this is sarcasm and banter. Some of the German guys struggled to understand, but after a few months, they are joining in with everyone.

We’re discussing our kids and families. One of my German coworkers is talking about how great his kids are. It’s all normal parenting stuff.

Me: “Well, you know what they say about German children?”

German Coworker: “No. What?”

Me: “They’re all kind-er.”

German Coworker: “I don’t get it.”

Me: “Kind-er, you know, like kinder. That’s German for ‘children,’ right?”

German Coworker: “Oh, yes, very good. English joke. I get it now.”

We laugh more at how bad my humor is and finish our break. I am dragged into Human Resources that afternoon.

HR: “There’ve been reports that you have been using racially insensitive and bullying language.”

Me: “News to me. What did I say?”

HR: “Err…” *Checking paperwork* “Something about berating one of the German workers about his children.”

Me: “I said German kids were kind-er. Did you actually speak to [German Coworker]?”

HR: “I, err… no. He is next.”

Me: “I suggest you do that, and maybe to the person making these allegations.”

I caught up with my coworker later that week to make sure that he wasn’t actually offended . Surprise, he wasn’t, and he said he felt more part of the team when we treated him like the English workers. The anonymous complainer was spoken to about exaggerating complaints. Hopefully, they got the hint.

I trip up some stairs and do damage to my foot, resulting in some pain in my toes which is particularly bad when the middle toe is touched. My then-boyfriend decides to start tickling me starting on my good foot. He then moves on to my bad foot that I’ve complained about pretty much daily since doing it.

Me: *Sitting up* “Ah, be careful with that foot. Especially my toes! Please don’t touch them.”

Boyfriend: “I won’t!”

I relax somewhat — as much as you can when being tickled — as he focuses on gently tickling the sole of my bad foot. Then, out of the blue, he outright squeezes my middle toe — the one that’s the worse when touched. I shriek in pain and immediately pull myself into a sort of foetal position, trembling, with tears forming from the pain. He then bursts into tears, sitting on the floor next to the bed. I’m concerned that I might have kicked him accidentally when I moved.

Me: “Are you okay?”

Boyfriend: “I hurt you! Oh, God. I feel so baaaad.”

This continues. I’m confused and still in a lot of pain.

Me: “You’re crying? Why?”

Boyfriend: “I hurt you! I’m the worst! I’m evil! I’m disgusting!”

Me: “It’s okay, I’m okay. I just wasn’t… I’m okay.”

I spend some time reassuring him that everything is okay, and it ends with me leaning over the bed so I can hug him, despite being in pain. It suddenly hits me.

Me: “Why am I consoling you when I’m the one in pain?”

Boyfriend: “Because I feel so baaaad about it!”

Me: *Straightening* “You… purposely squeezed my bad foot. Why did you do that?”

Boyfriend: “I feel bad!”

Me: “But why did you squeeze?”

Boyfriend: *Huffing* “Stop making this about you! I feel awful and you don’t care! You’re just making me feel worse! Can’t you see how bad you’re making me feel? How could you be like this? I’m going for a drive to calm down!”

He slammed out of the room and I heard him leave the house. He texted me “dark thoughts” he’s having throughout his drive, which had me apologising and backing down. However, the nagging feeling about him never actually apologising for it and knowing he did it intentionally stuck with me. A few months and repeated instances later, we broke up.

I work for my local council. I have had a little old lady asking about pensioners’ discounts and exemptions for Council Tax. She keeps going on and on for a while and it seems like she just wants someone to talk to, so I let her tell me her life story.

At the end of the call:

Caller: “Thank you very much; you have been most helpful.”

Me: “Not a problem. If you need help with anything else, don’t hesitate to call us.”

Caller: “Okay, thanks, bye.”

Thinking she has put the phone down, I put my phone on speaker so I can quickly get some more scrap paper. Next moment, I hear a loud “Pffffft… Ahhh…” and realise the lady has just farted down the phone.

Caller: “Oops.” *Click*