My sister is making a cake, and I notice that there seems to be an awful lot of batter for the size of the pans.

Me: “I don’t think that’s going to fit.”

Sister: “I followed the recipe.”

Me: “Can I see?”

I skim the recipe and notice that it calls for twenty-three-centimetre pans.

Me: “Your pans are way too small.”

Sister: “No, I didn’t want the cake to be that big, so I cut the recipe in half.”

Me: “Okay, but your pans are still too small.”

Sister: “No, the recipe says twenty-three centimeters; these are about twelve. They’ll be fine.”

Me: “But they’re round pans.”

Sister: “So?”

Me: “So, the volume of a cylinder is pi R squared times the height. A cylinder with a radius that’s half as big will have a quarter of the volume.”

Sister: “That doesn’t make sense.”

Me: “Yes, it does. Look, five squared is twenty-five, right? And ten squared is a hundred. A pan that’s half the volume of a twenty-three-centimetre pan if it’s the same height would have a diameter of…” *does the math on my phone* “…about sixteen centimetres.”

Sister: “Well, that’s your opinion.”

Me: *Incredulous pause* “It is literally math.”

Sister: *Scoffing* “Whatever. It’ll be fine.”

Naturally, the pans overflowed in the oven and it made a huge mess. Baking is not a good place for people who are bad at math.

I am working at the concession of a movie theatre. The lobby has seating for customers and is in plain view of the concession. A customer approaches me with a half-empty popcorn.

Customer: “Hi, could I get some more butter on this, please?”

Me: “Sure!”

Customer: “Oh, and could you top it up while you’re at it?”

Me: “Um… No, sorry, I can’t.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “I can’t give you more popcorn than you paid for.”

Customer: “I just want a full bag! You people never fill the bags up properly; as soon as you shake it a bit, it’s only half full!”

Me: “Sir, firstly, I personally make sure popcorn bags are completely full before they go out. Second, I could see you sitting at that table eating it. I can’t just give you half a bag of free popcorn.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! These places are so cheap!”

The customer starts ranting and I proceed to put butter on what’s left of his popcorn.

Me: *Handing it back* “There you go, sir!”

He glared, snatched the popcorn, and walked away.

There is a nature preserve near my house with a path all around a lake and a floating bridge across one section of it. For a long time, it was made of wood, but in the past few years, it has been replaced with a man-made material. It is constructed of many separate sections to accommodate for shifts in water level, with ramped metal connections in between.

One day, when I’m walking the loop, I decide to take a picture of a duck that is standing no more than two feet from me, completely chill with my presence. I hear someone approaching on the bridge — the connectors unfortunately make a lot of noise when stepped on — think nothing of it, and keep snapping away.

Then, the approaching woman addresses me.

Woman: “The kids must love this, huh?”

Me: *Smiling* “Yeah, they—”

The woman SLAMS her foot on the next metal connector.

Woman: “Such a nice sound, isn’t it?”

I just stare at her, shocked, as she walks to the next one.

Woman: “Coming out here to enjoy the nature and—” *SLAM* “—scaring all the birds away!” *SLAM* “It’s just so nice, isn’t it?” *SLAM*

She proceeded to stomp on every single connector for the entire rest of the bridge, raising her knee to hip-height each time for maximum stompage, repeating her complaints to every single group on the bridge, some of which included small children that never made a peep.

Eventually, she rounded a corner behind some brush, but even a hundred feet away, I could still hear her stomping and complaining all the way back to land.

Relieved to know someone was setting such a good example for the next generation as to how they should act in nature, I turned back to my duck. For some reason, she’d flown away. How odd.

Teenage Boy: “Can I have two bread rolls?”

Me: “Sure; that’ll be $2.”

Teenage Boy: “I only have $1. Can I still have two bread rolls?”

Me: “No, because they’re $1 each.”

Teenage Boy: “But they’re so cheap! Can you please just give me an extra bread roll?”

Me: “No.”

Teenage Boy: “Please?”

Me: “No.”

The conversation continued like this for several minutes until the manager threatened to throw him out for being a nuisance and for holding up the line. The other customers and serving staff spent the rest of the shift congratulating me for my patience with an obnoxious customer.

We use various outsourced delivery services for our food and they all have an option for customers to buy food using the platform, but then the customer can choose to come to pick it up themselves. This is to avoid the delivery fee. A customer walks in, lines up, and gets to the front of the line.

Customer: “I have a pickup.”

Me: “Sure, what’s the name or company?”

The customer gives me a weird “Why are you asking this?” face.

Customer: “It’s personal.”

Me: “Well, as you can see I have many bags here for many different customers. I just need a name for the order. If you are uncomfortable to at least let me know what you ordered?”

Customer: *Rolls eyes* “Oh, just give me my food; it’s that one there.”

He points in the general direction of all the bags lined up for various customers.

Me: “Can you please just tell me who the order is for?”

Customer: “It’s for [Customer], okay? Just give me my food.”

The customer took the food and left. My coworker and I just stared at each other in disbelief.