(I am in a queue for self-service checkout machines in a supermarket I visit frequently. I only have a few items and no cash, so I have my card in hand. I approach an available machine and note the sign saying it is card only. When I scan the first item:)

Machine: “This machine can only accept card payments. Do you wish to continue?”

(I press “yes” and carry on. As I am about to pay, an assistant runs over.)

Assistant: “You can’t use that one!”

Me: “It’s all right; I have my card.”

Assistant: “But it’s card only!”

Me: “I know. I want to use my card.”

Assistant: “But it’s broken.”

Me: “It is?”

Assistant: “Yes, it’s card only!”

Me: “So I… can use my card?”

Assistant: “No, the card machine is broken.”

Me: “So… it’s cash only? Or will it not accept cash or card?”

Assistant: “It’s card only.”

(At this point I give up, turn back to the machine, and pay with my card. As I am leaving, the assistant tries to stop me.)

Assistant: “You have to pay at another till! If you walk out now, you are stealing.”

(I carry on, walking over to the security guard by the door.)

Me: “Excuse me. Could you just look at my receipt before I leave? I wouldn’t want her to accuse me of stealing.”

Guard: “Oh, not again. [Assistant]! If they pay by card, it’s okay! The machine accepts card payments!”

(I have made an appointment with my general practitioner, as I have developed a skin condition on my foot that I want checked out. Please note that I am definitely overweight, but not in any way obese, and the doctor himself is visibly much more overweight than I am. When I am called through, he listens to my concern, then pulls out this gem:)

Doctor: “How much do you weigh?”

Me: *confused, but assuming this is part of the normal health assessment* “Um, about [weight].”

Doctor: “Okay, and what birth control are you using?”

Me: *now assuming the problem could be a side effect of some birth control types* “Oh, none. I’m not in a relationship, but if I were, we’d probably use condoms.”

Doctor: “Oh, good. You know, you really are quite overweight. It’s good you’re not sexually active. At your weight, if you fell pregnant, I’d have to force you to have an abortion.”

(This statement shocked me so badly that I froze and just sat, staring at him, as he lectured me about my weight. He advised me to try taking very small bites of my food, telling me that this method worked great for him. I left, still in a state of shock, and then realised that he did not address the problem with my feet. Another doctor later confirmed it was eczema.)

(I am a manager in a pub that offers a wide range of cocktails. We have a 2-for-1 offer on cocktails. An elderly couple and their adult daughter come in. They order their drinks and everything goes smoothly, until…)

Customer: “Can I have a dry martini, please?”

Me: “I can certainly make you one, but just to let you know, it is not on our cocktail menu, so it wouldn’t be a part of 2-for-1 offer. Is that okay?”

Customer: “No, no, I don’t want a cocktail, just a dry martini, please.”

Me: “All right, so just dry vermouth, then.”

Customer: “No, I do not want vermouth; I want a dry martini!”

Me: “Sorry, I’m just trying to understand whether you would like a classic cocktail that involves vermouth and gin, or a Martini-brand vermouth on its own?”

Customer: “I want a martini, but not vermouth.”

(I proceeded to explain the difference again, finally achieving success. Hopefully now the lady will know that her favourite drink is actually vermouth!)

(A conversation with a coworker has led us to talk about dreams where we do things we wouldn’t in reality.)

Me: “I can’t think of any dream where I was really evil or anything. But I guess I’ve stolen a few things. There was a taxi some years ago and, more recently, a slice of pizza from a dragon.”

Boss: *overhearing* “Did you just say you stole pizza from a dragon?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Boss: *short pause* “That’s why Daenerys attacked.”

(A new worker has been put on the fitting rooms this shift. I walk by him occasionally, and after his first hour I decide to see how he is doing. I check the inspection log and see that he hasn’t completed it.)

Me: “[Worker], have you been trained on fitting room procedures?”

Worker: “Yep!”

Me: “Have you checked the fitting rooms? You need to do it when you first start, and every hour after.”

Worker: “I can’t go in.”

Me: “Are there customers in?”

Worker: “No.”

(Not believing him, I inspect them myself. The men’s is a mess, and I find several tags stuffed behind the handicap chair. I inspect the women’s, and given I am a man, I shout beforehand. I quickly tidy up and sign the log.)

Me: “If no one is in there, you are allowed to go in. With the men’s you can go in anytime, but with the women’s, shout beforehand just in case.”

Worker: “But I can’t!”

Me: “Why not?”

Worker: “The customers might get offended.”

Me: “[Worker], if a customer gets offended by something you have the authority and responsibility to do, there isn’t much else we can do there.”

Worker: “But, the customers!”

(As hard as I tried, he just couldn’t get past the risk of offending customers. I dropped by for the rest of his shift and inspected for him. He was moved onto something else in later shifts, which he fared better with, but he would completely freeze if a customer approached him. Several customers even expressed concern with him — I decided not to tell him about that. Over his remaining time here, he seemed to suffer more and more from anxiety, and he eventually resigned, saying working with other people was probably not for him. I gave him the details for a mental health organisation which helped me deal with my husband’s death. I haven’t heard anything else from him, so I hope he is doing better.)