(I’ve been hospitalized. I call work to let them know, and that I’m not sure how long I’ll be out. I get a manager who’s known for trying to throw employees under the bus and messing things up for the other managers.)
Me: Hey, it’s [my name], I’m in the hospital.
Manager: Oh, okay.
Me: I’m not sure when they’ll discharge me, so I might be out for a bit.
Manager: Okay, thanks. I’ll mark you down.
(She hangs up. I feel like she didn’t quite understand that it wasn’t just one day, so I call back the next morning. A different manager is in.)
Me: Hey, it’s [my name], I talked to [first manager] yesterday, but I’m in the hospital and I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.
Other manager: Yeah, she just said you called out sick. I’ll make sure they know what’s up. Get better soon!

(My father is driving with me. I’ve just received my learner’s permit to drive, and he is in the passenger seat making the occasional constructive comment and helping me when I need it. I make a right turn and pass a sign. He starts freaking out.)

Dad: “That was a stop sign! You have to STOP for those! You just blew right through it!”

Me: “Dad! It said ‘stop EXCEPT when turning right!’”

Dad: “. . . Oh. I didn’t even see that.”

(I drive this route with him about once a week. He never made that mistake again.)

(I work in a public school music program, and every September we go around to all the elementary schools to give a presentation on each instrument we offer lessons on. The script hasn’t changed in years, so we all know what to expect. Except this year…)

Program Leader: …and when I was about your age, I sat in a gym just like this for an assembly just like this, and I heard the most beautiful sound in the world!

(Suddenly the fire alarm goes off, loudly and raucously as they tend to do.)

Half the Staff: That is NOT a beautiful sound!

(Her next line is normally “The oboe” but the timing was just too good!)

I am a disabled worker in a sheltered workshop. I am in the sorting documents,franking and putting in the envelope workshop
The courier arrives while we are sorting documents
Courier: [supervisor name] isn’t there?
disabled worker 1: no, he’s in a meeting right now
Courier: because I have mail without an envelope, I think it’s for you!
another disabled worker moves around and looks at the mail
handicapped worker 2: oh it’s the mail for [laboratory’s name ] to put in envelopes ! we have to do them within 48 hours ! we have to stop the sorting
courier: no, you don’t change your task if your supervisor doesn’t ask you to!

at the end of his meeting, our supervisor arrives
Supervisor: the mail for the lab has arrived! but why didn’t you start, it’s under 48 hours, we’ll have to do it fast if we don’t want to be late!

I love my husband dearly, but some days his tendency to try and micromanage things, or “fix problems” can drive me a little mad. One afternoon, I’m sitting on the couch, eating some cinnamon toast I fixed for a snack. He comes in to the living room, sniffing the air.
Husband: What’s smells so good?
Me: I made some cinnamon toast for a snack
Husband: We have cinnamon buns.
Me: It’s not the same.
Husband: It would have been if you had toasted it.
Me: (pause) It’s… not… the… same.
Husband: Okay. Whatever (walking away)
He comes back a minute later.
Husband: Sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to fix your problem (sounding only mildly sarcastic)
Me: It wasn’t a problem!