I am currently the only customer in this particular restaurant. My mom decides to run across the street to pick up a few things we need for the house after she finishes her meal, but I’m working on my novel, so she lets me stay.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, 2023, I am writing said novel on a manual typewriter. I’m a little self-conscious about this, actually; there are places I normally go to write that I know won’t complain about the sound, but this isn’t one of them, so I’m having trouble sinking into my writing all the way because I’m keeping an eye out for someone coming over to ask me to knock it off. (It’s happened.)

I can hear the staff talking behind the counter. Specifically, I can hear the guy manning the grill. He’s getting louder and louder as he rants about something — I don’t exactly know what it is, but there’s a lot of “f***”s in it, and the only sentence I can clearly make out is “I’ll just f****** put it on top of the f****** thing.” The three ladies working with him are occasionally audible, as well, evidently egging him on. I’m not bothered by the language at all; in fact, since his manager is standing right there with his arms folded listening to the entire rant, I’m glad he’s got a manager as cool as mine (who also doesn’t care if we curse as long as someone in upper management isn’t within earshot).

The rant ends, and there’s about a ten-second pause before the guy suddenly blurts out at full volume:

Grill Worker: “ARE YOU F****** KIDDING ME?! S***! I DIDN’T KNOW ANYONE WAS OUT THERE!”

The ladies behind the counter crack up, and I do, too. I can’t stop myself from calling back.

Me: “It’s okay. I used to work food service. I don’t think you get to say, ‘F***,’ enough!”

I don’t think they heard what I said, but it definitely made me stop worrying about whether the typewriter was bothering anyone.

I work at a dealership. The brand I work for offers a loyalty rewards program. If you spend $10 at the dealership, you get ten points. If you get 1,000 points, you can redeem them for a $10 voucher that can be used for parts or service. In order to redeem the points, all the customer has to do is tell their service advisor or the parts counter guy that they have points they want to redeem. The advisor or counter guy will do everything for them.

A husband and wife come up to me to pick their car up. I grab their paperwork and tell them their total. 

Customer: “We don’t owe anything. We have a customer care credit.”

Me: “A what?”

Customer: “A customer care credit.”

I flip through their paperwork, but I don’t see anything about a credit.

Me: “Who did you talk to about a credit?”

Customer: “We called them, and they said you guys are supposed to go online and redeem the points and print it out for us.”

Me: “Oh, a voucher.”

Customer: “It’s not a voucher. It’s a customer care credit, and you guys are supposed to redeem it.”

Me: “Your service advisor will do that for you. I’ll go talk to him.”

I grab the keys and paperwork and go to the service lane. Their advisor is at lunch, so I ask a different advisor. This advisor has only been with us for a little over two months, and I’m not sure if he’s seen a voucher yet. The other two advisors are either with customers or on the phone.

Me: “Can you redeem a voucher for—”

Customer: “It’s not a voucher. It’s a customer care credit.”

Advisor: “A what?”

Me: “A voucher.”

Customer: “It’s not a voucher! It’s a customer care credit!”

Advisor: “Uh… I can’t do credits. If it was a coupon, then yes, but credits need to be approved by [Manager #1] or [Manager #2].”

I look in the manager’s office, but neither is in there. I page them, and [Manager #1] comes up.

Me: “They want to redeem a voucher.”

Customer: “It’s not a voucher. It’s a customer care credit.”

Manager: “A what?”

Customer: “A customer care credit.”

Manager: “Do you have a paper or something?”

Customer: “Nope. You’re supposed to redeem our points for us and print it out here.”

Manager: “A voucher.”

Customer: “It’s not a voucher; it’s a customer care credit.”

I leave while the manager and the customer discuss whether they really do mean a voucher or a credit. About fifteen minutes later, their advisor is back from lunch and he brings me the customer with their paperwork, including a voucher. The customer is clearly irritated that it took so long to pick their car up.

Me: “Okay, it looks like your voucher covers everything—”

Customer: “It’s not a voucher.”

Me: “I just need a signature here.”

Customer: *Signs* “It’s a customer care credit.”

Me: “Have a good day.”

One day after work, I run to the store to grab a few things for dinner. I walk over to the pasta section and grab a box. Another woman is there staring at the pasta.

Woman: “Can you believe that I’ve been to three stores, and none of them have had whole-grain lasagna?”

I know this particular store keeps the lasagna noodles on the top shelf, so I glance up and see a box of whole-grain lasagna.

Me: “There’s some up there.”

Woman: “Oh, thank you. I didn’t see it up there.”

Me: “You’re welcome.”

I immediately walk away because I’m not much of a people person and I have what I need. I grab some pasta sauce on my way out of the aisle and continue my shopping.

A few aisles over, I’m looking for something else when the woman rounds the corner and makes a beeline for me.

Woman: “I don’t know what you do for a living, but I want to talk to you about a wonderful opportunity.”

Me: “Uh—”

Woman: “It’s part-time work from home. You would work with clients and offer them financial assistance. The pay is very good, and you would get to set your own schedule.”

Me: “No, thank you. I don’t need a job.”

Woman: “Oh, you wouldn’t have to quit your job. This is something you could do on the side. Let me give you my information.”

Me: “I’m not interested.”

Woman: “I promise, this is worth your time.”

Me: “No. I have a lot going on right now. I don’t have time for that.”

Woman: “Would you at least be interested in a Zoom meeting where you would learn more about the company?”

Me: “No!”

I grabbed my cart and ran out of the aisle. Thankfully, she didn’t follow me, but I did see her talking to an older man outside the store when I was leaving. Hopefully, he didn’t fall for whatever pyramid scheme she was a part of.

I worked in a high school outside of Washington DC. It was a school with a rougher reputation; on more than one occasion I was asked if I felt safe there, even from colleagues at other schools in the district. It was my first or second year of teaching and I was a general education teacher. What this meant was that sometimes I was a student’s only teacher who was not in the special education department, and I was often pulled for IEP (Individualized Education Program) or similar meetings. 

I was summoned for a meeting about a student in one of my classes, a female sophomore. The teacher running this meeting discussed the student’s home issues and gave the opportunity for others to discuss how she was in class. Her attendance was an issue, amongst other things. My heart broke due to her situation, and I was shocked by everything I heard because that was not my experience with her. This girl was absolutely wonderful in my class; she showed up and participated, and she started a silly tradition on one of my whiteboards. (That tradition was eventually transposed into a notebook that I still have in my possession fifteen years later, long after ending my teaching career.)  

There were only four classes a day, and I had this student during the last class period of the day, which started around 12:30. On a day I knew she was absent in the morning, I saw her during a time between classes. I said something to her about being late. It was probably sarcastic, which was the beauty of teaching teenagers.)

Student: “I only come for your class.”

I have a perfect view of the women’s bathroom from my desk. Our bathrooms are single-stall, so if I see someone go in and then a second person tries to go in, I will let them know it’s occupied.

One day, I see a woman enter the bathroom. A minute later, a second woman tries to open the door, but it’s locked. She immediately starts knocking nonstop on the door and calling, “Hello!”

Me: “Ma’am, someone is in there.”

Woman: “There is?”

Me: “Yes.”

Woman: “Oh, okay.”

As soon as I turn around, the woman immediately starts banging on the door and yelling at the person inside.

Me: “Ma’am! There is someone in there right now.”

Woman: “I know.”

I give up and return to my work. Less than a minute later, the woman inside the bathroom comes out, looking super annoyed.

I had half a mind to start banging on the bathroom door after the second woman went in. Maybe if I hadn’t been at work.