I work in a law firm in a skyscraper. The building has six elevators located in a vestibule towards the middle of the floors. Last summer, the three elevators on the left side of the vestibule were shut down for repair work. Over the last six months, each one has been repaired; however, now none of the elevators on the left side “ding” when they arrive to each floor, and the up/down call button light in the vestibule usually turns off a good five to ten seconds before the doors actually open.

I enter the empty vestibule and mash the UP button, standing with my back to the “quiet” elevators. Since the repairs, I often end up waiting a good few minutes for any of the elevators to arrive, and this time is no different. Just as I’m considering taking the stairs instead, a lawyer enters and hits the DOWN button on the right side of the vestibule. Since I’m facing him, I notice that the UP light is no longer illuminated.

Less than two seconds later, I hear the elevator behind me open and the automated voice exclaim, “Going UP!” I spin around and take the single step over the threshold. I’ve just scanned my keycard and hit the floor I need when the lawyer abruptly leans towards me, yelling.

Lawyer: “Wait! I think you just stole my elevator!”

Startled, I started to point up, but before I could actually say anything, the doors shut. 

He complained to my superior, and I was given a warning for being “aggressive.” What the actual f***?

Not long after graduating college, I am inspired to donate my kidney as a non-directed donation. I originally choose to keep the donation a secret from all my immediate family, due to some foolish notion that I want to make sure I am doing it for the right reasons and not just so I can brag about it. That means that none of my coworkers know anything about my donation plans yet.

Not long after starting that job, I tried and failed to talk my coworkers into joining me at a blood drive. Ever since then, it has been a slight running gag that I have to donate enough blood to make up for the rest of my colleagues who won’t donate.

One day, some coworkers are visiting my cubicle mate and they are talking. I’m not paying attention to the conversation at all until this happens.

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], you’re donating blood all the time; you should donate your kidney.”

I still don’t know how kidney donation came up in their conversation. Since I’ve resolved to keep the donation private, I try to redirect the statement.

Me: “You won’t even donate blood and you expect me to donate a kidney? That hardly seems fair.”

Coworker: “I’d totally donate blood if you donated a kidney.”

Me: “Really? You’re going to promise to donate if I give a kidney?”

Coworker: “Yeah, sure.”

I struggle to keep a straight face.

Me: “You know if you make that promise, I’m going to show up here in a few weeks and tell you I’m donating a kidney just to make you donate blood, right?”

Coworker: “Pssh, sure you would.”

Me: “You two heard him say it, right? I need witnesses for when I demand he donate blood!”

Coworker: “You wouldn’t donate a kidney just to make me give blood.”

I eventually get a second coworker to make the exact same wager. Getting two pints of donated blood seems more important than sticking to my rather silly intent to keep the donation a secret, but I want to wait until everything is finalized to tell anyone.

The next week, I come into work with a can of kidney beans and explain to the coworker that I am “donating” them to him, so now he has to donate blood. He laughs at me and says that doesn’t count, but that’s fine; the point is just to make sure he doesn’t forget his ill-fated wager.

The subsequent week, I have Monday off to do a day-long process at the hospital, learning more about the donation process, being put through a few tests to ensure I am healthy enough to donate, meeting with the surgeon who will do the surgery, etc.

That Tuesday, I come into work with a folder filled with paperwork they gave me about kidney donation. I print out a list of all the local blood drives and put it in the left flap of the folder, while making sure the top page on the right flap is one with a giant picture of a kidney on it that can’t be mistaken for anything else. I then surprise my coworker by holding the open folder in front of him without explanation.

Me: “So, here are all the places you can donate blood. The one on Friday is the soonest, but there is one next week that is closer to work if you prefer.”

It takes a minute for his eyes to wander to the rest of the folder and for him to put together the implication, but it is worth it to watch him as he slowly realizes I have every intention of holding him to his commitment. He is rather incredulous at first, believing this is all a prank and insisting that I tell him if I am making it all up, but I remember my favorite question.

Coworker: “Why didn’t you tell me you were already planning to donate your kidney?!”

Me: “I did warn you I was planning to do this — multiple times, in fact. It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me!”

Of course, word got out after that, and soon, my whole office knew of my plans. They even had a surprise party for me before I took off which included a cake made out of kidney beans and a hoodie they bought me with the phrase “Living Donor, see inside for details” written on it that I loved.

In the end, the surgery went fine and the kidney went to a two-year-old boy. I got to meet him for the first time a month after the surgery was over and he was doing well.

I used some of my recovery time to interview with other companies, so I ended up coming back to work only to give my two-week notice not long afterward. That means I never got to hang around to confirm that either coworker donated blood as they had promised, but I definitely kept up with my side of the bargain, so hopefully, they did theirs.

I was raised Catholic and used to be very involved in the church. I was baptized and confirmed, I used to be a catechism teacher in high school, I was in the youth group and youth choir, my sister was in the choir and was an altar server, my mom was a catechism teacher for over a decade, and my father was a lector and Eucharistic minister. We went to church every Sunday. Sometime after I moved out of my parents’ house, I stopped going to church, mostly out of laziness.

It is Palm Sunday, the weekend before Easter. I am at my parents’ house, and they invite me to church with them. I decide to go — why not? On the car ride to church and during mass, my dad starts “preparing” me for what mass is going to be like, basically teasing me and pretending this is my first time ever in a church. He explains what a missalette is, tells me when to sit, stand, and sing, and makes small comments throughout mass with a tiny smile on, so I know he’s joking.

It is time for communion. My mom is standing between us. My dad leans over.

Dad: “After the priest gives you communion, you say ‘Amen’.”

I smile, he stands back on his side, and I whisper to my mom:

Me: “I thought I was supposed to say, ‘Compliments to the chef’?”

She lets out a laugh/snort and covers her mouth to hide her smile. My dad, clueless, asks her to relay what I said. She tells him, and he looks at me, trying to stifle a giggle. Hiding his smile, he tells me:

Dad: “You’re going to Hell.”

I hope God has a sense of humor.

I work for a small software company affiliated with a nearby university. We are licensed to sell and support the software while students can use it for free. A very small part of my job is monitoring the customer service email. Because we are a small company with clients who email their support engineers directly, it is typically college students looking for an excuse to turn in their homework late. 

I had one guy call the customer service line and leave a voicemail at 5:37 pm and claim he couldn’t do his homework that was due at 5:30 pm because we didn’t pick up. You know, ignoring the fact he had two weeks to contact us and we only answer software questions, which you don’t actually need to do the homework if you are paying attention in class.

I have just given one PhD student a new install package to run.

Student: “I tried to install it and it doesn’t work.”

Me: “I am going to need more information. Can you confirm that it was installed properly by checking to see if [folder] is empty or has files in it?”

The student sends me a heavily clipped screenshot of what doesn’t even look like our software.

Student: “What does this mean?”

Me: “Hello. Unfortunately, I don’t know which context this is in so I cannot help you with that. Let’s focus on troubleshooting. Did you check [folder]? Did you also check your app settings to see if it was installed correctly?”

Student: “Does it matter where it is installed?”

Me: “It does matter where it is installed. That is why I am asking if you can see the files in that folder or not. Can you please let me know if they are there?”

Student: “Can’t you just send me a new license?”

Me: *Thinking* “Are you going to actually install it this time or not?”

For the record, it turned out he was trying to install a second copy on his work computer, which is a big no-no and goes against the contract he signed. It also didn’t work out for him because of permissions at his work. Oh, well.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel], this is [My Name], how may I help you?”

Caller: “Hey man, got any rooms for tonight?”

Me: “Yes, the rate is [price] per night, which includes room rate and taxes/fees.”

Caller: “Okay, can I reserve a room for the night?”

Me: “You can, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You’re within the cancellation window and we won’t be selling out tonight.”

We have a 24-hour cancellation window, so you can’t cancel if you book the same day without paying the first night.

Caller: “So, I can’t? Why won’t you let me?”

I confirm that he can, so we spend the next five minutes making a guest profile and reservation. I remind him that he can’t cancel without penalty.

Me: “So, as previously stated, you’re within the cancellation window and cannot cancel tonight’s reservation. Are you sure you want to make it?”

Caller: “Yeah, see you in a couple hours!”

Fast forward three hours, the phone rings.

Caller: “Yeah, it’s me calling. I don’t need the room tonight after all, cancel my reservation.”

Me: “I’m happy to do so, but as discussed, you’re within the cancellation window, and your card will be charged for tonight’s stay.”

Caller: “Like h*** man! Give me your manager!”

Me: “My manager will be back Monday, 8 am. You can call her then.”

Caller: “You charge my card and I’ll sue you!”

Me: “Have a good night, sir.”

I know asking guests to listen is an exercise in futility, but when we are actively trying to save you money, why would you not listen?