(I’m working the returns desk for a well-known retail chain. We have a strict return policy of 30 days, but we will sometimes bend the rules a bit if a customer is a bit outside the window. I am doing a return for an older female customer who is returning two separate orders.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, since it’s two transactions, I’ll have to do them separately; is that all right?”

Customer: “Yes, that’s okay. Do this one first; it’s older.”

Me: *thinking it’s a few weeks out* “Okay. Let me look at the receipt.”

(I see her receipt is missing the barcode and receipt ID number. Since the customer paid cash, I offer to look up the receipt with her store rewards card, which she agrees to.)

Me: “Hmm, it can’t find your item.”

(I glance at the receipt again and look at the date; the item was purchased over three years ago. Her other receipt was for the previous week.)

Me: “Um, ma’am, I cannot return this item, as it is way outside our return date window.”

Customer: “Oh, well, can’t you just bend the rules? Just this once?”

Me: “If it were a matter of a few days, I might be able to, but this item was purchased three years ago. I cannot take it back.”

Customer: “How about for store credit?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this rule is from our corporate office, and I cannot do any sort of refund or exchange, even for store credit.”

Customer: “But I never used it!”

Me: “I understand, but that is the rule. The computer won’t even find your purchase outside of the return date window. I can do your other return, as it is still in date, but not this one.”

Customer: “But I never used it! Just give me store credit!”

Me: “Again, ma’am, I cannot give you any refund or exchange for this—”

Customer: “BUT I NEVER USED IT! THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I can’t wear these shoes; they don’t fit!”

(The man behind her in line has had enough.)

Customer #2: *mumbling* “And it took you three years to figure that out?”

([Customer] immediately shuts up and lets me do her other return. She is still screaming about “never using” her item as she leaves. I turn to help the next customer.)

Customer #2: “Are people really that stupid?”

Me: “I wish I could say that was a first, sir.”

(My mother and I are the customers in this story. I am twenty at the time and am undergoing extensive treatment for my second battle in a year with stage-three cancer. We are walking through Pike Place Market. It’s not a terribly busy day. The market isn’t crowded, which is good, considering the treatment I am having makes my immune system even worse than usual. I am constantly in pain as a result of recent surgeries, and the three-times-daily abdomen injections I have to give myself, but I just needed to get out. I have a surgical-style mask on to try and prevent getting sicker. I hate having to stop and rest, but it is inevitable; however, we can’t find a place. So, we walk, and walk, and walk. My blood sugar is dropping dangerously low. I’m getting dizzy and overheated, ready to pass out. We come across this Chinese restaurant that has maybe five tables in it, and only one of them is taken. I go in and sit down as my mother buys two of their BBQ sticks for a homeless man sitting outside the shop. She comes in and then tries to get us two bottles of water. The woman behind the counter says in broken English:)

Employee: “If you aren’t going to eat, you need to leave.”

Mother: *looks at her like she must be joking* “I’m getting water right now, and I just bought food for that man. My daughter needs to sit for a minute.”

(The restaurant is super small so I know the one occupied table is watching.)

Employee: “No food, no seat. We need the tables for paying customers.”

(My mom turns around and looks at the pretty much empty restaurant.)

Mother: “There is no one here. And I am a paying customer. My daughter is sick! She can’t sit for two minutes?!”

(I look like a heavy gust of wind away from death. Eyes sunken, skin pale and ashy, no hair or eyebrows, AND my Hickman implant is clearly visible. I am very obviously on death’s doormat.)

Employee: “Well, I can put a bucket outside for her to sit on.”

(You could have heard a pin drop. I couldn’t see my mom’s face, but I saw her go still as stone. The people at the table next to me didn’t seem to believe it, either. We didn’t spend enough money in the employee’s eyes, so she said I could sit on a bucket outside the restaurant. My mom told me to wait for her by the curb. She knew my anxiety couldn’t handle any more, so I left and didn’t hear the fire and brimstone my mother probably brought down upon the woman. My mom won’t tell me what she said. But the irony is we were going to eat there. I just needed to rest and get some water in me first so I didn’t faint.)

(My father is doing the mandatory driving practice with me when I’m 16 when I only have my learner’s permit. He isn’t the most attentive or patient. We’re at an intersection on a low-traffic street, turning left with no dedicated arrow. I’m looking around first to make sure the road is free to turn.)

Dad: *insistently* “Oh, come on, [My Name]! Go! Go already!”

(I obey. He’s my supervising “experienced” driver; that’s what I’m supposed to do. Immediately, a car shows up from the opposite direction, going straight at high speed. It crashes head on into us. Luckily, no one is actually hurt, but both cars are nearly totaled. At least no one is in legal trouble over it. Nevertheless, both my parents seem extremely unhappy and troubled over the accident, speaking alternatively in very subdued and alarmed tones on the topic of the insurance coverage. They also keep giving me accusing looks for days on end and being extremely curt with me, almost as if I’ve deliberately killed someone. Finally, I plainly ask them what is going on.)

Mom: “Oh, well, you’re not covered on our car insurance.”

Me: “What?!”

Mom: “Yes, well… When we moved to the states two years ago, we had no US credit score or any other records, so when your dad bought the car no one wanted to give him an insurance policy. Finally, the car dealership called up some agent who came over and took a bribe of $300 cash to write up a policy for Dad. He asked him if he had a wife, but never bothered to ask if he had any children, so you were never recorded with the insurance as existing. We thought we might need to notify them when you turned 16 and got your learner’s permit, but we just weren’t sure.”

(I’ve been driving around with both of them, on my learner’s permit, for five months at this point.)

Mom: “Yes, you see, we just weren’t completely and totally sure. So, we just never called them at all. Now they’re giving us trouble over you having been driving the car, and may very well completely refuse to cover the accident.”

Me: *speechless doesn’t quite seem to cover it*

(The kicker is she still somehow managed to make this explanation sound like the entire business was largely my fault, despite having been told the exact circumstances of the accident. I just tuned out of the entire business after that. I was traumatized enough by the accident and couldn’t deal with any more details about my parents’ stupidity. The insurance eventually paid, I think, but it took us a full six weeks to get our car back from the shop, which is three times the typical timeframe for these repairs, so I’m sure my parents had to deal with a lot of trouble over it. I made it a point to keep out of their financial affairs as much as I could after that, so I’m not sure if they ever learned their lesson. There are a LOT of lessons I’ve learned from them throughout my childhood about all the things an adult shouldn’t EVER do.)

(My husband and I are hosting a get-together of his friends and mine in our new apartment. He is introducing me to a friend of his who is a huge book nerd.)

My Husband: “I think you’ll like [My Name]; she’s a bibliophile, too! She just started reading Hannibal.“

Friend: “Ugh, I hated that book. Doesn’t it seem so forced that Clarice runs off with Hannibal in the end?”

Me: “…”

My Husband: “What part of ‘just started reading’ did you not get?”

Friend: “But… but it came out years ago! There was a movie!”

Me: “’JUST STARTED READING,’ [FRIEND]!”

Friend: “THERE WAS A MOVIE!”

Me: “This book is useless to me now. You should just eat it. EAT THE BOOK, SPOILER DEMON!”

Friend: “I’m sorry! My book nerd hatred for a bad plot overcame my book nerd hatred for spoilers!”

(I consider myself very lucky that I have always been healthy. I was never sick often as a kid, and have no chronic ailments as an adult. Call me crazy, but I generally assumed that was the case for most people unless they had a serious accident, or developed a condition, etc. That is, until recently, when I check into the hospital for a minor procedure. Nothing is wrong; this is a procedure having to do with fertility. My mom goes with me the morning of my appointment and is sitting by my bed while I fill out the final pre-surgery forms and get set up with the IV, etc. Over the course of the next half-hour, I have only slightly different versions of the same conversation with every nurse and doctor who comes to check on me:)

Nurse #1: *checks my chart* “I see here your only medication is birth control?”

Me: “That’s right.”

Nurse #1: “No allergies? No other medications?”

Me: “Nope.”

Nurse #1: “Hmm… Okay.” *leaves*

(Mom and I give each other a look, but don’t think anything else of it. Then the next conversations happen:)

Nurse #2: “Are you sure you don’t take any other medications?”

Nurse #3: “Are you sure you don’t have allergies?”

Doctor #1: “Wow! No other meds?”

Nurse #4: “I can’t believe you’re not taking anything else!”

Doctor #2: “Birth control is the only thing you take?”

Me: *turning to my mom after the last doctor leaves* “Are they being really, really thorough, or do we just live in a very unhealthy area?”

Mom: “When I had surgery last year only two people asked me about the medicines I take. It seems strange to me, too, and you’re so young! What do they expect you to be taking?”

(The procedure goes fine, and soon I’m waking up from the anesthesia.)

Mom: “Hi, honey.”

Nurse #5: “Hi there, [My Name]! You did great!” *checks my chart* “Are you really only taking birth control, and nothing else?”

Me: *slurred and groggy* “Seriously?! How unhealthy did you expect me to be?!”