As a result of my work, I get a lot of packages delivered to my home, some of which need to be signed for and some that can just be left at my doorstep. It’s frequent enough that both my indoor/outdoor cats recognize the delivery people.

One very rainy day, I went to answer the doorbell to find packages, but no one was waiting for me to sign. Eventually, I spotted the deliveryman running back to his vehicle to get out of the rain. I wasn’t sure why he would bother to ring my doorbell if he didn’t need me to sign for anything this time, but I opened up the screen door to get the packages anyway, at which point my rather wet cat ran inside from the bushes where she had been waiting.

It was a little odd, but I didn’t think much about it until my next delivery, not long after.

Delivery Driver: “Sorry for ringing your doorbell last time. I was headed out when your cat started meowing at me in protest for leaving. Figured she wanted me to let her in like I usually did. I didn’t want to bother you, but she looked so miserable and cold. No one should be stuck out in a thunderstorm if they don’t have to be.”

[Cat] knows about the delivery drivers and will often slip in and out when I open the door to sign something. She also regularly climbs up to a window and meows at me if she wants in badly, but on that day, I was working on something in the bathroom and so wouldn’t have seen or heard her at any of the windows.

Apparently, she decided to slip in when I signed for deliveries, and when the deliveryman tried to leave without getting me to open the door for her, she made her disapproval known.

Next delivery, I offered the man a cat-shaped cookie I’d kept by the door for him as thanks for making sure my girl got inside. Got to love a man who listens to your cat’s demands.

Back in the early 2000s, I worked in a retail store and had some administrative responsibilities.

I find out that the work schedule for next week needs some modifications, so I just make those changes at home on my computer so that I don’t have to deal with it when I start work the next morning.

I get a call from the opening manager that the printer is busted, so she asks me if I can print the schedule at home (to be placed on the staff information board), which I do. 

I’m running late, so I hit print and then brush my teeth. I come out, and my dog has seen the paper emerging from the printer line by line, thought it was a game, and started to bite at it.

It’s still mostly intact, and I don’t have time to reprint (this is an old and slow printer), so I just grab it and bring it into work.

Opening Manager: *Seeing me put up the revised schedule.* “What’s that?!”

Me: “The revised schedule.”

Opening Manager: “What happened to it?”

Me: “My dog got to it while it was still coming out of the printer.”

Opening Manager: “So… your dog ate your homework?”

Me: *Pause.* “Well… now that you put it that way, I guess he did!”

I went to college that fall, and lucky for me, my dog had gotten over his one-time attempt at stereotypes!

This is about my partner’s Wi-Fi problems. About a year ago, my other half started having this weird issue where the Wi-Fi on her work Surface would just… stop. It would drop from whatever network it was connected to and then refuse to reconnect for anywhere between five minutes and an hour.

It wasn’t just her, either; a few of her colleagues had the same problem. It happened both at home and in the office, with no set pattern.

As an aside, her phone was temperamental at best and hated the 5GHz Wi-Fi on our home router, so I had to disable that and limit it to 2.4GHz bands. For some reason, her work Wi-Fi was also limited to 2.4GHz.

One day, after hearing her complain while working from home, I decided I had to find the cause. My own work could wait.

I turned off anything that could interfere with Wi-Fi at home; my work laptop, the TV, consoles, both our phones, and still the problem persisted.

Then I saw it. The only thing I hadn’t turned off that wasn’t hard-wired was… her wireless mouse.

That couldn’t be it… could it?

I unplugged her mouse: bing, Wi-Fi connected.

Plugged it back in: five minutes later, bong, Wi-Fi disconnected.

Unplugged it again: bing, connected instantly.

Turns out her mouse was using a frequency that killed Wi-Fi within a certain radius, but only on 2.4GHz bands.

She told her colleagues who were having the same problem. They unplugged their wireless mice, and poof, every Wi-Fi problem vanished.

She’s since upgraded her phone, so it doesn’t complain about 5GHz, and that’s back on at home… but she’s now banned from using wireless mice here.

Turns out mice don’t just chew through wires after all!

I’m working from home and decided to take a quick break. I walk into the living room where my five-year-old daughter had been playing, and she is nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t have left the room without passing the kitchen, where I have been working, so I am initially confused.

Me: “Babygirl, are you in here?”

I hear a muffled “yes” come from the couch.

The couch where we have four very large and very senior German Shepherds chilling on the couch. It’s the middle of winter, and even though the house is warm enough, it’s still noticeably colder than usual, so the four big boys all like to huddle together for warmth.

Me: “Are… are you in there?”

I see one of the German Shepherds adjust themselves a bit, as a tiny human hand reaches out from underneath the literal dog pile, and gives me a thumbs up.

Me: “Are you okay?”

Daughter: *Slightly muffled.* “Yeah.”

Me: “You’re just… chilling under the dogs?”

Daughter: *Slightly muffled.* “…Yeah.”

Me: “And you can breathe?”

Daughter: *Slightly muffled.* “I was just sitting here, and Pippin came and sat on my lap. Then Frodo got jealous and sat next to me, and then Samwise and Merry followed. I just kinda… let it happen.”

Me: “And you’re just… lying there… under the dogs?”

Daughter: *Slightly muffled.* “Yeah.”

Me: “Doing what?”

Daughter: *Slightly muffled, deep sigh.* “…just… thinking.”

Satisfied that my daughter was there, even though I couldn’t see her (although I could make out her tiny feet now that I was paying attention), I got my coffee and went back to work.

A few minutes later, I made the mistake of rustling some plastic packaging and all four dogs came rushing over (as fast as they could go, for their age), releasing my daughter from her furry prison of existential contemplation.

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I took a hybrid attendance job, meaning I work in the office three days a week and at home the other two. I chose to work from home on Monday and Friday. One Monday around 9 AM, my mother-in-law saw my car sitting in the driveway and decided that meant I was available.

Mother-In-Law: *Knocking on the door and jiggling the handle.* “Hello? Hello!”

Me: *Opening the door.* “Hi, sorry, I’m working from home today. What’s going on?”

Mother-In-Law: “Well, I was thinking we could go to the store.”

Me: “I can go after 5:30 PM.”

Mother-In-Law: “No, that’s too late. I’ll come back another day.”

Me: *As she’s walking away.* “I work 7-5:30 every day!”

Mother-In-Law: *Waves me off.*

That Friday, around 4 PM, I was working from home again, and she came back, knocking and trying to open the door.

Me: “Hi, I’m still working.”

Mother-In-Law: “Why lock the door? You’re home.”

Me: “To prevent people from coming in without being invited.”

Mother-In-Law: *Missing the point.* “Well, come out; let’s go for a walk!”

Me: “I still have to work until 5:30. We can go after dinner if—”

Mother-In-Law: “No, that’s when everyone else goes out. I’ll just do it myself.”

She left again. I spoke with my husband when he got home, and he said, essentially, that she didn’t think working from home was actually working. His own father used to work from home but switched to going to his office because she kept asking him to do household repairs and other off-work activities, no matter how many times he said he couldn’t.

The following week, I put a “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on the door. Still…

Mother-In-Law: *Jiggling the doorknob and knocking.* “Hello! [My Name]! I know you’re in there!” *Pounding on the door.* “[My Name]! Now this is just rude!”

She kept knocking for a few more minutes before giving up. I went out after 5:30 to find my sign had been ripped up and dropped on the porch. My husband called her that night to explain that just because my car was in the driveway did not mean I was available. She scoffed and said she would expect me to make time for her.

I started parking around the corner when I worked from home. I saw her trying to peek through the blinds a few times, but she did stop trying to come in!