Homeless Guy: “Spare some change?”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t carry cash.”

Homeless Guy: “What about food, then?”

Me: “Well, I was about to go to the sub shop across the street.”

The homeless guy gives a long, complicated order about a specific sandwich.

Me: “I can’t remember all that.”

Instead, I gesture toward the shop.

Homeless Guy: “Are you inviting me?”

I gesture again and he gets up.

We get in there and he repeats the oddly specific order, but even more specific this time.

Homeless Guy: *To me* “Can I get extra meat on that?”

Me: “Sure.”

Homeless Guy: *To the clerk* “Extra meat, too, please.”

Then, he turns back to me.

Homeless Guy: “May I please get a bag of chips?”

Me: “Normally, I’d say yes, but it’s toward the end of the month and I’m on a fixed income, so I only have just enough money to buy two sandwiches.”

Homeless Guy: “No problem. I understand. Thank you so much for the sandwich.”

He gets his sandwich, starts eating the first six inches, and then rewraps the last six inches and goes out the door.

Meanwhile, the clerk is making my sandwich. The homeless guy has already left the shop. After the clerk is done:

Clerk: “I know it’s none of my business, and your heart is in the right place, but the homeless people here eat better than I do. This is his third sandwich today.”

Me: “Him specifically? Three times, today?”

Clerk: “Well… there were a lot of homeless people being fed, and I don’t know if he, specifically, actually had three sandwiches.”

Me: “Okay, then don’t make accusations. I have a couple of good friends who either used to be or are currently homeless.”

He hands me my sandwich.

Clerk: “That’ll be $5.48, unless you want drinks. Do you?”

I think quickly about this. That price is for a single footlong, which means he is not charging me for the homeless guy’s food, so I now have a surplus of money in my account.

Me: “Yes, thank you. I’ll have one of this size.”

And I pointed to the smallest paper cup they had. I wanted to get out of there before he realized he hadn’t charged me for the homeless guy’s sandwich, so I sat at a booth out of his sight and ate my sandwich really quickly, drank my soda, got a free refill, and left.

In retrospect, and after relaying the story to one of the aforementioned formerly homeless friends of mine, I’m wondering if what happened was that I unintentionally guilt-tripped the clerk and he deliberately “forgot” to charge me for the homeless guy’s sandwich.

I work in a tourist gift store, so most customers are tourists. The customer is paying for something with exact change and I notice that they hand me a Vermont state quarter.

Me: “Oh, did you want to keep this as a souvenir and give me another quarter? This is a Vermont quarter!”

Customer: “Vermont has its own currency?!”

I said nothing and took the quarter. 

Related:
In A State Of Confusion, Part 7
In A State Of Confusion, Part 6
In A State Of Confusion, Part 5
In A State Of Confusion, Part 4
In A State Of Confusion, Part 3

My dad is massively impatient with customer service, making it very embarrassing to go shopping with him. A new book in a series he’s fond of has come out, and we go to pick it up. After searching the shelves for twenty minutes, we give up and leave to ring my books up.

Employee: “Find everything okay?”

Dad: “Actually, no. We searched everywhere for [Book] and didn’t find it, even though the other books in the series are up there.”

Employee: “Really? Let me check that for you.”

He proceeds to type the book into the computer’s database and finds it immediately. 

Employee: “Actually, we have two of that book in stock. Would you like me to go get it for you?”

Dad: *Very rudely* “No, we looked for it. I’m pretty sure it’s not there.”

Two weeks later, I need a book for classes. I search the shelf for a good ten minutes and cannot find it. Annoyed, my dad tells me to ask them to order it. I go to the customer service desk and hear a very familiar story. 

Employee: “Actually, we have quite a few of those in stock. Would you like me to go get one for you?”

Me: “Umm well… Yeah, okay, I can wait.”

Five minutes later, the employee returns with my book. I thank her and turn to leave, but then think better of it. 

Me: “Umm, ma’am? Can I ask you a question?”

Employee: “Sure!”

Me: “Do you sometimes not place books on the shelves even when you have them in stock?”

Employee: “Oh! Yeah, sometimes we keep them in the back to make room for more popular or modern pieces.”

Me: “Okay… Thank you!”

Related:
Not So Book-Smart, Part 2
Not So Book-Smart

I work at an office. Long story short, my supervisor wrongfully fires me, and the manager overturns it and writes her up for violating policy.

A couple of hours later, I go into the ladies’ room. My supervisor comes in after me.

Supervisor: “You’re fired.”

Me: *Pause* “Seriously?”

Supervisor: “You heard me. You’re fired.”

Me: “You’re seriously going to fire me again after that meeting we just had today?”

Supervisor: “I’m not going to let [Boss] stop me from firing you. You ruined my good standing with the company and I cannot let that go unpunished.”

Just then, a toilet flushes, and the manager comes out of the stall.

Manager: *Washing her hands* “You know I could hear what you were saying, right, [Supervisor]?”

Supervisor: *Goes pale* “I—”

Manager: “Just go to the office. I’d like to have a little talk with you.”

My supervisor was fired that day for retaliation.

Server: “Table four has a shellfish allergy. Can they get the salmon without the oyster mushrooms?”

Oyster mushrooms are a specific type of mushroom; they don’t contain any oysters.

Me: “Uh… you can tell them that that’s just the name for the mushroom. There’s no shellfish in that dish whatsoever.”

The server goes out and returns.

Server: “No, they’re afraid you might not know what’s in it. They’ve never heard of an oyster mushroom.”

Me: “Ask them if Hiratake mushrooms would be okay instead?”

“Hiratakai” is the Japanese name for oyster mushrooms. The server goes out and returns.

Server: “Okay!”