(I am a contract truck driver. I am moving a 3.5-tonne van from a repair yard to the store it does deliveries from, a short 50-mile trip. At 30 miles, the dashboard flashes with multiple faults, the major one being “Critical Gearbox Failure.” The van comes out of gear, due to its automatic gearbox, and I coast it to a safe place. I ring my company to get help, and after a while of conferring with the contract company, they tell me to turn the engine off, leave it a minute, and turn it back on. That gets me back on the road for a mile before the whole thing repeats. The second time, they get me to disconnect the battery because, “these vans can have a touchy computer system and a proper reboot fixes things.” Five miles later, there is a loud bang, and the back of the van vaults into the air before dropping hard and much lower. I work out that it is freely slewing at the back and correct for it while dragging to a halt across two lanes of the road. Once I get my breath back and stop shaking, I get out and take a look. The gearbox has pretty much fallen apart. The drive shaft has fallen off, and because this is a rear-wheel drive van it has hit the ground, dug in, and ripped the rear axle off. I ring the office.)

Me: “You know your reboot to disable the alarms?”

Office: “Yes.”

Me: “The alarms were for a d***ed good reason, and I’m lucky to have survived. We need a recovery truck to the middle of the A27 just outside Chichester.”

Office: “Can you get the van to—”

Me: “No, the back wheels need recovering from 100 metres back”.

Office: “Can you push it off—”

Me: “It was a 3.5 tonne truck before it lost big chunks of drive and some wheels; what do you think? I’m calling the police to report it.”

(Policy has now been rewritten so stupid reboots aren’t attempted on the road for some reason, and I’ve never spoken to that dispatcher again. The police had to close the road for two hours to clear debris.)

(It’s 9:30 pm and a lady walks into reception.)

Me: “Good evening. How can I help you?”

Lady: “Hello! I would like a single room for tonight, please.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we only have one family room left tonight.”

Lady: “What? On a Monday, surely not!”

Me: “Yes, I am sorry. You can still have a family room; however, it’s £90.”

Lady: “No, stop being silly. I will have a single room; it’s only me.”

Me: “I am sorry, miss, but as I have already told you, the only room available is a family room.”

Lady: “On a Monday you are full?!”

Me: “Yes. It’s the start of most people’s working week; therefore, we are normally full.”

Lady: “Prove it!”

Me: “Excuse me? How would you like me to prove it?”

Lady: “Well, show me inside the rooms.”

Me: “Miss, please kindly leave!”

(My coworker has just returned from a three-day first aid course, so he can be qualified as the first aide for our pool and gym. On his first day back, we are discussing how his course went.)

Coworker #1: “Oh, God, the course was so boring. I had to fight to stay awake the entire time.”

Me: “Was there nothing that interested you?”

Coworker #1: “Well, the guy who took the course did say he had done something from the course a lot of times.”

Coworker #2: “Resuscitate someone?”

Coworker #1: “No something else, to help keep them alive.”

Coworker #2: “Resuscitation?”

Coworker #1: “No, it was something else! The main thing we learned.”

Coworker #2: “That’s resuscitation!”

Coworker #1: “CPR! He had done CPR to save people!”

Coworker #2 & Me: “What do you think the ‘R’ stands for?”

Coworker #1: “…”

Me: “Please tell me you didn’t sleep through the course.”

(We don’t plan to leave him as the sole first aide of the gym any time soon.)

(I have been working at my current job for over a year and in that time have never taken a single day of sick leave and have only twice been late. I manage to overhear a couple managers talking about me:)

Manager #1: “Well, put [My Name] down for the early shift; he’s always on time.”

Manager #2: “And we know he probably won’t call in sick 15 minutes before, too. Most of the other guys here call in sick at least once a month; he’s gone a whole year and not a single sick day. For us, that must be a record.”

Manager #1: “Oh, yes. I forgot what it’s actually like to be able to trust the staff working here.”

(I figured I was just doing my job by literally turning up for it. It turns out that’s not the way anyone else does things. Now I’m much less surprised that my department has a high turnover rate for staff.)

(I am purchasing some things from my local petrol station. I know the total comes to under £10, but I need change and decide to give a £20 note instead.)

Cashier: *leaning away from my money* “Umm, do you have anything smaller?”

(I fish around in my wallet and hand over £10. I then notice a pack of gum has appeared alongside my other items.)

Me: “Oh, was this scanned, as well? I don’t want it. Can it be taken off, please?”

Cashier: “No.”

Me: “No? Why not?”

Cashier: *visibly sweating* “You aren’t allowed.”

Me: “But I don’t want it.”

Cashier: “But you must!”

Me: “Well, I don’t. Take it off.”

Cashier: “NO!”

(Our argument alerts the station owner who comes forward and I explain the situation.)

Owner: *to the cashier* “Take it off.”

(She gives him an imploring stare but his face is set in stone. She’s actually shaking as she moves her hand to the register with her eyes shut tight, as if it were about to explode. The second the gum is taken off, she runs away, screaming that she “can’t go on.” The owner sighs and takes my £20.)

Me: “Thanks, but what was all that about?”

Owner: *shrugs* “Sometimes the ultra-religious around here make it hard to shop.”

Me: “Huh?”

(He taps the display saying the total: £6.66.)

Me: “Oh.” *takes my change and leaves*

(Usually the ultra-religious in my area are over sixty, so it was an odd sight to see a young adult with the same attitude. Whenever I go in there now and she’s in, she glares at me the entire time and runs into the back when I get near the register. Thankfully, I don’t go in there often.)

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