(I work in a small gas station and gift store. Unfortunately, we do not yet have card readers on the pumps. We offer two options: leave a card or drivers’ license, or prepay and we can always refund if the vehicle doesn’t take all that is applied. A family pulls up to the pumps. They are already fighting in the parking lot, and I’m just hoping they decide to leave all the visible attitude outside. The older man of the family approaches me.)

Older Customer: “So, what do we have to do to get gas?”

(I explain the options, and immediately the older man is outraged.)

Older Customer: “I would never leave my card!”

(He offers it to the woman with him and I explain that that is okay as long as she remains in the store. Of course, they think this is ridiculous, but I’m just trying to be reasonable, because no card reader is an inconvenience. The woman then stands directly in front of the register, arms crossed, leaning forward against our register touch screen, staring daggers at me. I put up with it, because whatever, it’s not quite eight am and maybe she needs coffee. She continues to comment on what crap it is and tells her daughter they won’t be purchasing anything else.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but that is our store policy. It’s not up to me.”

Female Customer: “I’m just doing what you told me to do.”

(I brush it off. At least they’ll leave when the gas is done. This goes on for another five minutes or so. As annoying as it is, I let it go. Then, her daughter decides to make faces at me, and they start laughing and making fun of me. That’s about all I have for patience. I take a deep breath.)

Me: “All right, you can have them stop the pump. We’re done here. You’re being very rude.”

Female Customer: “I’m just doing what you told me to do!”

Me: “Have them stop the pump or I will stop it in here. You can pay for what you’ve already pumped, and then you need to leave the store.”

(She leans out the front door of the store and hollers to her family outside:)

Female Customer: “She said to stop the pump, but just keep pumping; she’s being rude to me.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can stop it in here, or you can stop it out there. Your choice.”

(The older man then comes back into the store throwing an absolute fit about how this would never happen where they’re from.)

Older Customer: “Where’s your manager?! We need a number to call your manager.”

Female Customer: “Don’t pay with your card; I don’t trust her. She’s self-conscious. That’s the only reason she’s doing this.”

Me: “You can pay with whatever you are more comfortable with.”

(I give them the receipt and point out the store’s number, tell them my manager’s name, and inform them that they’ll have to call during the week to reach her.)

Female Customer: “We’ll have your job for this; you’re going to get fired. We’re taking pictures of this store and sharing it everywhere.”

Me: “Okay, have a nice day.”

(It doesn’t pay to be passive aggressive at eight am. Keep your bad day out of the store.)

A few years ago, in December, my wife and I were driving south on an interstate highway in Wyoming. It was early evening, full dark, with a snowstorm and strong winds blowing snow across the road making for near whiteout conditions. Driving was extremely hazardous and we were in the right lane travelling at 25 mph or less.

Suddenly, in my driver’s side mirror, I saw headlights rapidly approaching in the passing lane. A moment later, we were passed by an 18-wheeler. I estimated he was going at least 65 mph, probably faster. My spoken thought was, “That stupid f***er is going to crash!”

Less than ten minutes later, the prediction came true. On this portion of the highway the median was very wide and depressed below the N-S driving lanes, and there on its side was the truck. The skid marks in the snow were fresh enough that it had to be the same driver. I have to admit that the Schadenfreude I felt at the instant karma was extremely satisfying as we passed.

Before the commentariat get in an uproar over my failure to stop, read on:

1. One car had already stopped to render aid.

2. Under the driving conditions, stopped cars were very dangerous and I didn’t want to add to the risk.

3. From the tracks, it was clear that the truck hadn’t rolled, just toppled and slid, and there was no fire. Assuming the driver had been wearing his safety harness correctly, he was unlikely to be seriously hurt.

4. Even if #3 was incorrect, the human race just became marginally more intelligent.

(My husband and I have just dropped off our kitten to get spayed and microchipped. It’s important to note that we have other dogs and cats, and my dad is a narcissist who tried breaking us up several years ago.)

Me: “Let’s get the Bengals microchipped when we get their next shots.”

Husband: “Deal. Do they mark the ear to show they’re microchipped?”

Me: “I don’t know. I know dogs get tags.” *pauses and glances at my husband* “I wonder if they microchip husbands.”

Husband: *laughs* “Man found on side of road, bump on head. Doctors say his last memory was telling wife that father-in-law was right all along.”

Me: “Yep, that’d do it!”

(My parents and my two brothers and I go to visit my aunt and uncle in Texas for Christmas. We live in Washington state, but my parents decide to drive. We’ve stopped for the night in a hotel in Wyoming. At the time, my brothers and I are young enough and small enough that my parents just turn us sideways on the bed and things are usually pretty good. In the middle of the night, both of my parents wake up when they hear the thump of one of my brothers rolling off the bed. When no screams come, they both rush out of bed to make sure he’s okay.)

Dad: “He’s still breathing. Here, hand me that blanket, so we don’t have to try and wake him up. He’ll be fine here.”

(He grabs his pillow and the blanket and does his best to cover my brother up. My mom moves in to use the bathroom since she’s up. for an unknown reason, my dad heads towards the window and peeks out the curtain.)

Dad: “Get dressed. We need to leave now!”

Mom: “What?”

Dad: *turning on the lights* “We need to leave. Now!”

(Outside, the snow is falling pretty badly, semis are on their sides in the ditches, and the snow is piling up. My brothers are really heavy sleepers and don’t wake up, so my dad just carries them to the car while my mom has me help her get stuff packed up. We get into the car, check out of the hotel, and stop at a gas station to fill up and grab a case of water. Then, we get on the freeway. My mom turns on the radio)

Announcer: “We’ve just closed the highway at [Exit #1].”

Mom: “We just passed that.”

Dad: “Uh-huh.”

Announcer: “We’ve just closed the highway at [Exit #2].”

Mom: “And that one!”

Dad: “Yep.”

Announcer: “Highway has been closed at [Exit #3].”

Mom: “That one, too!”

Dad: “Yeah.”

(It turned out we were racing the storm. My dad was literally just ahead of it; when my mom and I glanced back, there was just this wall of grey chasing us. We made it out of Wyoming without getting stopped. Overall, it took us about two and a half days to get to my aunt and uncle’s house. We avoided Wyoming on the way home… just in case.)

(I work at a well-known pet store; I handle the phone calls and help customers find things they need. I receive a call from a customer who at first doesn’t know how to find us. I have to try to guide him through the phone, yet he refuses to give me details of his current location.)

Me: “Okay, sir, what street are you currently on?”

Customer: “I don’t know!”

Me: “Look for a sign indicating what street you are on, and I can give you directions from there.”

(After a couple of minutes he finally finds a street sign. I am then able to give him directions. At this point, I think our phone conversation will be over, but he then asks me a question.)

Customer: “Do you guys sell puppy food?”

Me: “Yes, we do, sir! We have tons of different brands with puppy formula.”

Customer: “Perfect. I’ve been driving around all day to find a puppy formula!”

Me: *mentally* “How hard is it to find puppy food?”

(About ten minutes later an older gentlemen approaches me, asking where the puppy food is.)

Me: “Did you just call our store?”

Customer: “Yes, I did.”

Me: “Great! I was the one who spoke with you!”

Customer: *looking annoyed* “Can you just take me to the food?”

Me: “Yes, right this way.”

(I proceed to show him the different puppy foods we carry. Suddenly, he throws his hands up in the air and starts yelling.)

Customer: “I said I needed puppy formula; this isn’t puppy formula!”

(I point at the bags and show him that they each say, “Puppy Formula.”)

Customer: “No, like puppy formula for dogs who are nursing! My dog is already dried out!”

Me: “I apologize, sir, that there has been a misunderstanding, but I’m afraid we do not sell puppy formula for nursing dogs here.”

Customer: “I specified on the phone that they were only seven weeks old!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t ever remember you specifying that they were only seven weeks old.”

Customer: “Besides that, puppies can’t have kibble until they are at least two years old!”

Me: “Sir, have you ever had dogs before or bred dogs before?”

Customer: “No!”

Me: “Then let me just say that dogs don’t have to wait until they are two years old to eat solid food; they can start eating solid food as soon as four weeks. Who told you dogs couldn’t eat solid food until they were two years old?”

Customer: “I Googled it.”

Me: “So, you’ve been giving these dogs nothing but milk for seven weeks?! Through the mother?!”

Customer: “Yes, she’s been breastfeeding them for seven weeks, and now she’s dry; I need formula! Also, do you have a cream? Her nipples are bleeding.”

(Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have pets.)