My sister and I vacation together in Florida, and we come back sick as dogs. We’re both sneezing and coughing uncontrollably plus feverish chills, but mine’s worse. I get so bad that I lose control of my body so I soil myself, clumps of my hair fall out, and I have hallucinations of shadowy figures. I’m naturally fat but I can’t eat, so my stomach caves in. I drool uncontrollably the time, and I get an earache so bad that I can’t hear anything. Plus, my eyes puff up so much that I can’t see either. Ever been deaf and blind? It’s NOT fun.

I figure I got a bad flu, but it’s never been like this, so I figure I have the flu AND maybe something else. Finally, weeks later, I go the see a doctor, I’ve no insurance but I’m desperate for relief. Over-the-counter medicine does nothing.

I tell the doctor everything, and he runs tests. Flu: negative. Strep throat: negative. Pneumonia: negative.

Doctor: “It must be bronchitis. A mild case of it.”

Me: “A mild case? If this is mild, I don’t want to ever experience a severe case!”

He gave me a prescription for my cough. My sister went, too, and she got a flu diagnosis. She still blames me for giving it to her, even though I told her I didn’t! I lost twenty-five pounds at least.

I visit a certain grocery store pretty regularly. It is the closest one to my home. This location has a lot of issues with their card readers. Sometimes it takes a couple of tries to get my card to run through. It doesn’t happen often enough to make me not want to go back.

Today, I cannot get my card to read at all after numerous tries. The person next to me is also having issues, and someone behind me is, as well. I call the attendant over to let him know the card reader isn’t working and to ask if I can move my items.

Me: “The card reader on this register isn’t working. Can I move my items to a new one?”

Attendant: “It’s not the reader. Our readers are fine. It’s your card. Do you have another form of payment?”

Me: “Um, no.”

Attendant: “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, then.”

Me: “Can I maybe move my items to a different one?”

Attendant: “Why? It won’t help you.”

Me: “Well, the guy next to me was having issues with his card reader and so was a woman behind me. Can I try?”

Attendant: *Rolls his eyes* “Sure. It’s not gonna work, but I guess, if you really have to.”

Guess what? My card worked with no problem. He mumbled something about how he didn’t know why it would act that way and how they never have problems and just walked away. No apology. I almost got a manager but decided not to. I was also too flustered to get his name to file a complaint later. Hopefully, his customer service gets better.

My dad works at a coffee shop in New Hampshire, where we live. Once, he told me this story after coming home from a long day at work. Keep in mind that this is in the middle of winter in New England, so there’s a lot of snow and we try to control it.

The employees were closing up the store, but it was about five minutes to when it actually closed so they still had new customers. My dad was mopping around the front area when a lady walked in.

She walked in. Her boots were covered in snow.

She walked past the mats by the door and abruptly stomped off her boots right where the rug stopped and my dad was mopping.

Why?!

I’m a legal assistant. Half the attorneys I work for are well advanced in years. One day, one of them emails me the most mundane assignment: format and print a letter for him. I do so and take it to his office for him to sign. He looks it over, has no changes, and signs it… in bright purple ink.

I’m very confused because one of the most fundamental rules you don’t even need to be a lawyer to know is that you only sign legal documents in black or blue ink. Despite being nervous about how it might come off, I give in to the urge to question what I just saw.

Me: “Is it okay to sign this in purple?”

Attorney: “It’s blue.”

Me: *Pause* “No, it’s purple.”

Attorney: “It is?”

Me: “Yeah, a bright, pinkish fuchsia or lilac.”

He stared hard at his signature, looking as confused as I was… and that is how we both learned he’d become color blind. Rational or not, I felt horribly embarrassed, but he just laughed it off.

We keep our pens in their original, clearly-labeled boxes in the supply cabinet. He simply made it a rule never to take colored pens into his office. Whenever he passes by my desk, he’ll routinely pause, hold out a pen or paper with his signature to me, and ask, “This is blue, right?”

Caller: “I gave my bank your company’s information but you haven’t taken a payment yet.”

Me: “I am sorry, sir, but it does not look like you’ve set up with our autopay function, so we won’t know which bank to request the payment from.”

Caller: “You mean I have to give you my bank information for you to take the payment?!”

Me: “Yes, sir. Otherwise, if you’re using your bank’s bill pay information, they should send a payment for you to us. If they haven’t yet done so, that is something you’ll need to discuss with your bank.”

Caller: “That is so stupid! You should take my payment when I’ve given my bank your information!”