My sister’s ex-husband passed suddenly. We were still on polite terms but not really friends anymore; I didn’t even go to his funeral because I wasn’t sure I would be welcome.

A few months later, I started getting repeated calls from a number I didn’t know. I finally answered.

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “I’m looking for [My Name].”

Me: “And you are…?”

Caller: “I’m [Caller] with [Debt Collection Agency]. I’m calling in regards to [Deceased]’s debt in the amount of $85,000. As his immediate family, you are responsible for his debt upon his death.”

Me: “No, I’m not.”

Caller: “I assure you that you are. Now, if you do not pay or you cannot pay, we will be forced to take part of each of your paychecks, starting with the next one. How would you like to proceed?”

Me: “You can f*** off.”

Caller: “Excuse me?”

Me: “I said, ‘F*** off’. I am not responsible for [Deceased]’s debt or anything—”

Caller: “You are his immediate family and—”

Me: “I am his ex-sister-in-law. He stopped being family ten years ago. So, yes, I do want you to f*** off.”

Caller: “No, ma’am, I—”

Me: “I will start screaming as long and loud as I can if you continue.”

Caller: “Ma’am, I—”

Me: “Okay.”

I took a deep, dramatic breath, and the call disconnected.

I reached out to his family and notified them that someone was trying to collect a debt. They said he didn’t even have a credit card or any loans, so he shouldn’t have any debt. I researched the caller later and found that they are (as you may have guessed) scammers who prey on people in bad situations.

A couple of younger guys come into our bakery and look around. We are a relatively “fancy” bakery, and we’re known for making some interestingly flavored breads.

Customer: “Wow! That bread is so purple!”

Me: “Haha, yes, it’s our ube bread. It’s a kind of Philippine sweet yam, and it’s very delicious. Would you like to try some?”

Customer: “No way! How many chemicals did you put in there to make it so purple?!”

Me: “I understand! Ube gets that a lot, but most people are surprised to find out that ube really is that color! It’s very purple and all natural!”

Customer: “Nothing in nature is that purple. You have to have added something!”

Me: “I can assure you, sir, no extra coloring was added to the bread. I can go to the back and show you a raw ube yam if you’d like?”

Customer: “I don’t believe you; it’s not natural.”

At this point, the customer’s friend interjects and points at the sodas they’re drinking.

Customer’s Friend: “And you think that thirty-ounce Mountain Dew you’re sucking on is natural dew from the mountains? Leave the poor man alone and buy his funky purple bread!”

As a massage therapist, sometimes I wonder if I’m trapped in a conversation with my clients, or if they’re trapped in one with me. One such example happened recently. I’m giving a massage to an older male, probably in his sixties.

Client: “…and did you hear that ladies all over Europe are doing [random fashion trend]?! I can’t believe it. I think it looks awful. I don’t know why they’re doing it.”

Me: *Kind of playfully* “Well, they’re probably not doing it for your attention.”

Client: “Well, whose attention are they doing it for, then?!”

Wow, sir. Maybe for one of the other billions of people in the world?!

I then treated him to a half-hour-long discussion/lecture about societal expectations, body shaming, ladies’ fashion over the years, social media, mainstream media, etc. 

That was probably one of the instances where they were trapped in a conversation with me.

To his credit, he took it fairly well, and he booked another appointment with me later!

I’m the author of this story. Toward the end of the year, our choir takes our yearly trip to a different state. These usually run for three or four days. We sing at a couple of locations, take a college-level music class, and go sightseeing.

I start to feel under the weather on day two, but I brush it off as jet lag. Our director makes the following announcement on day four, a Sunday, as we’re on the bus to the airport.

Director: “As a reminder, everyone, all of you will be in school tomorrow. I don’t want to hear that you got your parents to call you out sick because you’re tired or jet-lagged. If you’re not in school, you’d better have a note from your doctor or the emergency room, or else your grade is getting docked.”

I start to feel worse on the plane and am not in great shape by the time we land. My parents notice immediately that I’m sick, and they send me directly to bed when I get home.

I wake up on Monday morning with very painful symptoms of a UTI, and I head over to my doctor to get tested.

Doctor: “You get antibiotics. Drink some cranberry juice, too. You should start feeling better in the next forty-eight hours. Call us if you’re still having symptoms after finishing the meds. Anything else?”

Me: “Can I get a doctor’s note?”

Doctor: “For a UTI? You shouldn’t need it.”

Me: “Trust me, I need it.”

Doctor: “Teacher on a power trip again?”

Me: “Yep, same one as last time.”

He rolls his eyes.

Doctor: “I got you.”

He writes a note, pops it in an envelope, seals it, and hands it to me with a flourish.

Doctor: “Don’t open this.”

I stay home until Wednesday, as I’m still feeling pretty terrible. I walk into chorus class on Wednesday, and the director gives me a smug look.

Director: “This should be good.”

Me: “Again, here is your stupid doctor’s note!”

I produce the doctor’s note from my purse, walk up to the piano, and drop it on the keys. He opens it and reads it. His facial expression goes from smug to concerned in record time.

Director: “Um, you’re definitely excused. Your grade is safe. I, uh, hope you’re feeling better.”

To this day, I still want to know what my doctor wrote!

Related:
Unreasonable Teachers Make Us Sick

Reading this story reminded me of a similar situation.

I had my semi-annual medical checkup with the VA (Veterans Affairs), which happened to fall on the same week in early September (2017) when Hurricane Irma struck Florida. I got a call from the clinic informing me that all appointments that week had been canceled and that I would be contacted as soon as possible to reschedule. That wasn’t a problem since I had no pressing issues.

A handful of days later, the scheduler called me to reschedule my appointment.

Scheduler: “It looks like the next available appointment we have is [date in the last week of November].”

Me: “That’s fine.”

There were a few moments of silence.

Scheduler: “Oh, wait. You aren’t a new patient, are you?”

Me: “No.”

Scheduler: “Oh, I’m sorry. That date is for new patient appointments. It looks like the next will be [date at the end of the first week of December].”

Me: “All right, no problem.”

There were a few more moments of silence.

Scheduler: “All right, I have that scheduled for you.”

Me: “Oh, will I need to redo my blood draw and labs?”

She did some figuring on the dates.

Scheduler: “Unfortunately, yes, since it will be so long since you had them done, they will have to be done again.”

Me: “No problem.”

There was an even longer silence. Then, something clicked for me.

Me: “You’ve been getting yelled at a lot today, haven’t you?”

The scheduler let out a sigh.

Scheduler: “You have no idea.”

Me: “Well, it’s not like it’s your fault there was a hurricane.”

Scheduler: “Thank you! And since it is a few months’ wait for the appointment, I can offer you the opportunity to get scheduled with another doctor out in town if you would like.”

Me: “No, that’s not necessary. I don’t have anything pressing.”

We completed the call. I hoped she wouldn’t get yelled at too much more, but I’m sure she did. It doesn’t take much effort to be kind to people just trying to help, especially when something is out of their control.

Related:
You Can Always Bank On Kindness