(I am currently working front desk at a private practice doctor’s office. I answer phones, schedule patients, do referrals, etc. This exchange occurs over the phone.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Doctor]’s office. My name is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Patient: *with a snarky attitude* ”My name is [Patient] and I need to know if my medication has been approved by my insurance.”

(Sometimes certain medications need a prior authorization in order for the pharmacy to dispense the med. I tell the woman no problem and get her info so I can pull up her chart.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, it looks like it’s still being processed right now.”

Patient: *with even nastier attitude* “This is ridiculous. I need my medication.”

(I then look to see what medication she is talking about and it turns out it’s Zantac. This is an over-the-counter medicine that you can buy at any grocery or drug store.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that, ma’am, but PAs can take anywhere from one to six weeks. Sometimes medications that can be purchased over-the-counter take longer.”

Patient: *yelling* “I KNOW IT’S OVER THE COUNTER BUT I WILL NOT SPEND MONEY WHEN I CAN GET MY INSURANCE TO PAY FOR IT! I NEED MY MEDICATION NOW AND YOU BETTER DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS.”

(I then forwarded the call to the doctor’s nurse who informed her that she would get to it as soon as possible, but since the patient’s medication was available over-the-counter, she has to work on the others that aren’t. She also gave her a list of stores and other medications that will help her problem if she needs it immediately. Seriously, just go to the store and get some.)

(My freshman biology teacher allows us to bring a single 3×5 card of notes to our final exam. She warns us that she will measure the card, so it had better not be any larger than three inches by five inches. Some of us are more creative than others.)

Student #1: *hands over his card for inspection*

Teacher: *whips out her own 3×5, plops it down in the middle of the student’s, frowns* “As I thought, yours is too big. Thought I was joking?”

(She traces around her card, pulls out her shears, and cuts off all four sides, leaving him with a notecard that is exactly 3×5, but is missing huge chunks of information. She then stamps the card, hands it back to the horrified student, and turns to the next kid.)

Student #2: *smugly* “Here you are!”

(The card looks a mess, with cramped red ink in one direction overlaid by equally small blue writing going perpendicular to the red.)

Teacher: *lays her card over his, and it’s exactly the right size, so she stamps it and hands it back* “Just curious, but how exactly do you plan to read that?”

Student #2: *pulls out an old set of 3D glasses, the kind with one blue lens, and one red lens* “With these! When I look through this side, I can only see the red ink. And when I look through the other, I only see the blue!”

Teacher: “Huh. Well, all right, then. Good luck.” *turns to me* “And your card?”

(I pull out a 3×5 card onto which I have glued meticulously sized printer paper, covered in size one font.)

Me: “I couldn’t get it to print straight onto the card, so I had to print it out and glue it on. But I promise, it’s only one layer, and you can even tape down the edges, if you want.”

Teacher: *checks the size, prises up an edge to see that I’m telling the truth, and gives it her stamp of approval* “You’re good. But it’s going to be awfully hard to read something that small.”

Me: “I should be fine. But, just in case…” *I reach into my pocket and pull out a toy magnifying glass* “It’s only ten times magnification, but that’s plenty.”

Teacher: *starts laughing* “What is with this class?”

(Sadly, most everyone else had fairly standard cards, and maybe two more got trimmed. I don’t know how the others did, but [Student #2] and I aced it.)

(My uncle, my brother, and I go to buy a TV for my grandmother. We find one and go to pay.)

Uncle: *to the cashier* “Can we split this on two cards?”

(She rolls her eyes and looks at us like we have asked her to do the impossible.)

Cashier: “Yeah, I guess so.”

Uncle: “Great! $250 on this first one, please.”

Cashier: “Okay, swipe the first card.”

(The entire amount of the transaction goes through on the first card.)

Cashier: “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Uncle: “I swiped my card, and the entire transaction went through.”

Cashier: “YOU DID SOMETHING! I DID MY PART RIGHT; WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

(At this point we’re already upset because we have done nothing and she is yelling at us.)

Uncle: “I did nothing but swipe my card.”

Brother: “It’s fine; I will pay you back later, [Uncle].”

Uncle: “Can we reverse the transaction and then try paying on the two cards again?”

Cashier: “DID YOU NOT HEAR HIM? JUST TAKE THE D*** TV AND LEAVE! HE WILL PAY YOU BACK LATER!”

(The manager came over and tried to calm her down. We started leaving, and the entire time she was yelling how her SEVEN sons were going to come find and beat us up.)

(I’m a bouncer at a sports bar located just outside of a rough neighborhood. Due to the location, we have a long list of people who are no longer allowed entry for various reasons: starting fights, selling drugs, etc. Because of this, we are required to check every patron’s ID upon entry, regardless of age. One night a staff member, who is white, walks in for his shift, so there is no need for me check his ID. Behind him is a [not Caucasian] man who tries to enter when:)

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but I need to see your ID.”

Customer: “Uh, why?”

Me: “We have a list of people who we are not allowed to let in, and I need to verify that you are not on this list.”

Customer: “Why didn’t you check his ID?” *pointing to the staff member I just let in*

Me: “Because he’s an employee.”

Customer: *raises eyebrow* “Oh, I see; so, because I’m [race], you think I’m on the banned list. Is that it?!”

Me: “Absolutely not. I’m required to check everyone’s ID upon entry.”

Customer: “You racist motherf*****; so, you only check [race] IDs, huh?! I’d like to speak to a manager!”

(I call my manager over and he tells him the same thing: the person I let in was an employee and didn’t need his ID checked.)

Customer: “I don’t care who he is; if he doesn’t need his ID checked, then neither do I!”

Manager: “Sir, I’m sorry, but if you don’t show us your ID, you cannot come into the bar.”

Customer: “This is BULLS***! I’m suing this place for discrimination. I’ll see your a**es in court!”

(The customer angrily stormed off. Later that night, my coworker informed me that the same guy was thrown out two weeks prior for causing a scene when the bartender cut him off. Sure enough, his name was on the banned list.)

(I drop in at a bakery with some friends.)

Us: “Hi, we’d like a dozen cookies.”

Cashier: “Orders of 12 or more have to wait 20 minutes for new cookies to bake.”

Us: “Well, how about 11?”

Cashier: “Still have to wait.”

Us: “10, 9?”

Cashier: “…”

(So, we waited, but the joke’s on the bakery, because none of us will be back. Turns out the cookies from across the street were better, anyway. What kind of bakery has a wait for a dozen cookies, bagels, cupcakes, etc?)