I do not work on my birthday. Period. I am fifty-two years old and have been working since I turned fifteen (then, the legal age in Australia), and I have NEVER worked on my birthday. Xmas, New Year, Easter – couldn’t give a toss, happy to work, but I. Do. Not. Work. On. My. Birthday.

So, I was working in my twenties in a grocery bakery, and I put in my one-day leave application three months ahead of time (the requirement is four weeks’ notice, so I am WAY ahead of it), and I got verbal approval.

Two weeks before, the manager suddenly took me aside and said:

Manager: “I don’t think I’m going to be able to give you that day off.”

Huh.

Me: *Explaining politely.* “I gave more than the required notice, and that nobody else in the department was scheduled for that day off. I really insist on having that day off.”

We went back and forth for a bit until I eventually put my foot down.

Me: “Gary, I gave you three months’ notice for one day off. You told me yes. Now you’re telling me no. So, instead of having three months’ notice to fill my shift, you now have two weeks’ notice to fill my shift. OR, you can have one hour’s notice to fill my shift, at 4 AM in the morning, when I call in sick on the day. Because I. Will. Not. Be. Here. Your choice, boss.”

I got the day off.

I frequently order groceries online, which are delivered through a third party.

One time, the delivery guy turns up, and starts unloading bags full of nappies, baby formula, etc, NONE of which I ordered, being a mid-fifties spinster with no children.

I politely tell the delivery guy:

Me: “That’s not my order.”

I assume this will be a simple conversation.

Nope.

Cue several minutes of me reiterating that information, that this is NOT my order, that is NOT my name on the bags, and, oh, this order would actually be about three times the value of what I had paid for.

Driver: *Insistent.* “This is the order I collected FOR YOU, and you MUST accept delivery.”

Round and round we went, with me refusing to accept delivery of an incorrect order, and him refusing to put it back in the car to take it back to the shop.

I eventually had to phone the store helpline while he was still at my door, to confirm that MY order was still in the shop, before he begrudgingly agreed to return this other person’s order.

Dude, I get that you are probably earning minimum wage doing deliveries, BUT in the time you spent arguing with me about the error, you could have probably returned the delivery and picked up another job. 

I did eventually get my correct groceries, delivered by a different driver.

Related:
It’s All In The Delivery, Part 7
It’s All In The Delivery, Part 6
It’s All In The Delivery, Part 5
It’s All In The Delivery, Part 4
It’s All In The Delivery, Part 3

A very popular chain of women’s clothing is sadly going out of business, and all of the different branches are having massive “closing down” sales, so my mother and I go to try and get some bargains.

We arrive at one particular store to see the doors down and the lights off. Expecting restricted opening hours due to the shutdown, we find a sign on the door saying that they should be open until 3:45. It’s a little after 3:00 pm.

Surprisingly, I spot a staff member in the store, so I politely knock on the glass, trying to get confirmation on the closing time. The employee very clearly sees me and, with hand gestures, basically tells me to go away. I manage to mouth to her through the glass that the sign says they should be open for at least another half-hour. Her response is a verbal “I KNOW!” and another shooing gesture to get me to go away.

Gee… I wonder why the stores were shutting with customer “service” like that!

I used to work in a petrol station (I believe you call them gas stations in the USA) in an area that was not fantastic for crime rate.

One night, pretty close to closing (nearing 11 PM), I saw a young male running toward my shop. I thought about locking the doors, but I was younger and less doubtful of people back then.

The young man RAN into the store, went quickly toward a certain aisle, grabbed “an item” and ran to my register. He quickly threw a packet of condoms on the counter, followed by some cash. I quickly scanned the condoms, and reached for the cash, but he had already grabbed the (now scanned) condoms from the counter and high-tailed it for the door, while I processed his sale, without issuing him change (it wasn’t much).

If I’d had time, I would have shouted after him:

Me: “Have a great night! I hope they’re still waiting, mate!”

This dude was super invested in returning as quickly as possible, AND ensuring safe sex was taking place, so KUDOS.

In the early 2000s, I was in my forties and a teacher in a girls’ school. I was walking down a corridor past a class of fourteen-year-olds. This particular room was open on one side to the corridor and, as I walked past, the entire class swiveled around and LOOKED at me.

As you might imagine I was somewhat taken aback, but I just waved at them. Much to my amazement, the entire class burst out laughing and some, quite literally, fell to the floor laughing.

A few hours later, I ran into the teacher for that class in the staff room and asked her what on earth had been going on.

Teacher: “Oh, that was a sex ed class. We were just discussing dirty old men when you happened to walk past and wave…”