There is a “Coffee News” paper that is available at some local restaurants. It has fun facts, jokes, sudoku, “find the difference”, horoscopes, and local ads. I always grab one when I’m at a place that has them because they’re fun. I read the jokes and fun facts, play the games, and nothing else. Except this one time, when I decided to read the community ads. There was an ad for an online support group for people with autism.

So, I joined the group, and I had a fun time.

A few months later, I was at my mom’s on the day the group Zoom chat was held. I logged in, and someone said, “Oh, [Mom], would you like to introduce yourself?”

I waited for a bit for someone with the same name as my mom to introduce themself, until I realized that they were talking to me! I was showing up under her name because I was using her computer and hadn’t logged into my own account before joining the call. I explained that her name wasn’t my name, I was just using my mom’s computer, and somebody else spoke up.

User: “So, your mom is [Mom]?”

Me: “Yeah.”

User: “And she plays the tin whistle?”

Me: “Yeah.”

User: “And she lives in [Town]?”

Me: “Yeah.”

User: “I stayed with her one time for a music festival! Tell her [User] from [State] says hi! Here’s my email!”

Afterward, I walked out, told my mom what had happened, handed her the paper I’d written the email on, and told her that the person she’d hosted over a decade ago said hi.

Small world!

I went into my local bottle shop to buy a couple of bottles of wine, and I was served by a staff member I didn’t recognise. I presume he was new — all good, no worries. Then, I went in a few days later to buy another couple of bottles. The same staff member was there and decided to get chatty.

Staff Member: “So, what do you do for a living?”

Me: “I work in response handling and scanning.”

Staff Member: “Oh! Well, at least you’re not a bum!”

Me: “Ha, I wouldn’t mind a bit more bumming around and a bit less work!”

Staff Member: *Talking over me* “So many people come in here and spend hundreds of dollars on alcohol, every day! They don’t have jobs! They must be doing something on the side to be able to afford this…”

I forget everything he said, but it was a pretty intense tirade about many of the other regular customers, with strong implications that they were criminals and “bums”. Being female-presenting, I’m never sure when it’s safe to tell a man he’s being awful, plus I was totally blindsided, so although I was internally very confused and bothered, I tried to just smile and make some other conversation. I think I said something about the football.

A few days later I decided that what he’d said, while not against me specifically, was not okay and not professional, so I emailed the head office to let them know. It wasn’t long before I had a response apologising for the experience and assuring me that they would speak to this staff member. And I know they did, and I know he knows it was ME who reported him because when I see him now, he’s hilariously awkward and very, very obviously sticking to the absolute basics of a retail interaction! I try not to go there anymore.

This happened back in the 1990s when I was working in a call centre for a major ticket-selling company. A huge new hotel/casino/entertainment complex was opening in my city, and it was a Pretty Big Deal. Loads of media coverage and all sorts of major headline acts had been booked to play all the rooms as part of opening celebrations, including Stevie Wonder.

One day, I answered a call from a lady.

Lady: “Why are the tickets to Stevie Wonder so expensive?”

I explained that he was playing a small, intimate room, so wherever you sat, you were going to be up close. The ticket price included a three-course dinner. That made it a pretty special gig for a big international star like Stevie Wonder, which was all reflected in the ticket price.

Lady: “Oh. I guess that’s okay, then.”

Me: “Are you interested in purchasing tickets?”

Lady: “Yes, but only if you can 100% guarantee that Stevie Wonder really is blind.”

Me: “I… Sorry, what?”

Lady: “I need to be sure he really is blind if I’m going to buy tickets.”

Me: “Er… why?”

Lady: “I don’t think he is blind. He does it for sympathy.”

I was utterly floored by this ridiculousness.

Me: “Well, I can’t give you that guarantee, but it’s well documented that he’s been blind his whole life. He’s been performing this way for a very long time.”

Lady: “I don’t think it’s true. He’s having us on.”

Now I was intrigued by the crazy and the hill she was willing to die on.

Me: “Why don’t you think it’s true?”

Lady: “He wears glasses so you can’t see his eyes and can’t see he’s faking. He must have done it to get advantages for his career.”

Me: *Sarcastically* “Yes, because I’m sure being born Black and blind in the US in the 1950s gives you all sorts of advantages.”

Lady: *Totally missing the sarcasm* “RIGHT?!”

She continued on for some time with her theories about how Stevie Wonder’s blindness has been an elaborate, lifelong ruse to gain sympathy and give him a golden ticket in his career. As she drew a breath for the next round of crazy, I butted in.

Me: “Madam, are you actually interested in purchasing tickets for this event?”

Lady: “Yes, but only if you can 100% guarantee me that HE. IS. BLIND. I’M NOT BUYING TICKETS IF HE’S NOT BLIND.”

Me: “Yeees. I don’t think we can help you.” *Click*

I never heard in the news that some crazy lady tried to rip off Stevie’s glasses at the gig, so I guess she didn’t buy tickets from anyone else, either.

CONTENT WARNING: Needles, Blood

I used to pass by a blood donation clinic every time I went home. After a while, I decided to go in and do my part. But after talking with them, I was not able to set up an appointment because I didn’t have my medical card with me. So, I walked the two blocks to my home and came back with my card so I could set up an appointment.

I was taken into another room, talked through a questionnaire, and then taken into a waiting room, and that’s when I realized, “Oh. I thought we were setting up an appointment time for me to come back later. But nope, this is happening RIGHT NOW.”

I wasn’t expecting it to happen right away like that, but I didn’t have anything else planned, so… I just went with it.

Eventually, I was brought back, and they stuck me. I’m not exactly squeamish when it comes to needles; in fact, I always thought it was super cool to watch my blood shooting into the vial when I had to get a blood test. But the one thing I’m not cool with is watching the needle actually enter my flesh. So, the technician came over, I looked away, they stuck me, and… they missed my vein, so they took it back out again.

Technician: “Can we try your other arm?”

Me: “I’d rather you do the same one again.”

Technician: “Actually, we can’t… It has to be the other one.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. Yeah, try the other arm.”

Technician: “You’re such a trooper!”

So, I got stuck again, and this one took. As soon as they were done, I looked back to watch. My eyes widened, and I jerked my head back in shock.

Technician: “Oh, yeah, it’s a big needle.”

I asked, and it was a 16-gauge needle. For the uninitiated, that means it was just a little bit smaller than the lead in your average wooden pencil.

I have donated several times since. Donors have to do a “cooldown period” afterward where we sit around eating cookies and drinking juice boxes while we’re monitored to make sure we don’t pass out or something. I like to joke with them that the whole donation process is just part of my nefarious plot to get free snacks.

A lady brings her printer and laptop to the computer repair shop where I work and explains her problem.

Customer: “I have been trying to print a document that was about fifty pages long, but I think the printer ran out of ink halfway through, so I turned it off and put in a new cartridge. But now, whenever I try to print, it keeps printing the document I was trying to print yesterday.”

At this stage, I’m thinking that maybe the printer had an error during the last attempt to print and is retrying, so I should just need to find the “cancel printing” option. I plug the printer in and turn it on, and everything is fine. It turns on and does not start printing anything.

I then turn on the laptop and plug it in, thinking that maybe it is still in the print queue. But again, nothing unusual happens.

Customer: “Oh, it only happens when I actually try to print something.”

As a quick way to try to reproduce the problem, I open up Microsoft Word and try printing a blank page. As expected, the printer quickly spits the page out, without doing the usual stopping and chugging that inkjet printers usually do when printing, and sure enough, there’s some text on the paper. But because of how quickly it spat the page out, it is obvious to me that it did not come from the printer. I then pull out the bottom paper tray and, sure enough, the first ten sheets of paper already have text on one side.

Me: “I think I found the problem. It looks like these pages have been reused.”

At this point, the customer realises what they’ve done and how stupid they must look

Customer: “Oh, my goodness! I can’t believe that! I did put those in there; I remember now. Oh, that was so silly! How did I not think of that?!”

Thankfully, she was actually perfectly pleasant to deal with and admitted her mistake (unlike some customers here on NAR), and we both had a laugh about it.