Walking on the streets I noticed that a pizzeria I’ve never been into has a lunch offer with 3 toppings for reasonable price. So feeling peckish I went in and to the counter. I told about the lunch offer and was answerd that it’s valid, so I ordered triple shrimp toppings with garlic and added that I wanted the garlic put on the pizza before baking. The guy wrote my order down and I took a utensils, glass and a water pitcher and went to some table.

Waited in a table and got my pizza. Asked the guy who brought it that was it really my pizza. The cook came out of the kitchen and asked me what was wrong with the pizza. And I replied that I ordered triple shrimp and thirteen shrimps on this size of pizza is not triple shrimp and what about this raw garlic that’s on my pizza when I asked to add it in before baking. The cook said that he can do me new pizza but I walked out and said that if you don’t get your orders right in the first place how could you think you can do business. Three months later the pizzeria was not there.

Went in to my local supermarket on the way home from work. An employee was putting items in a fridge, small plastic tubs of something with “50% off” stickers on them, which is what they do at the end of the day if the “sell by” date is today.
I looked at them, on every single one the stickers was in the middle of the top, covering up where it said what the contents were. I asked him what they were, he told me the price. “No, what is in them?”

He had to peel off one of the stickers to find out, which was not easy as it kept tearing, presumably it is designed to do that to stop people moving them to other items. It was olive paste, not what I was looking for.

How do they expect people to buy them, if it no longer says what the thing is?

When I’m in eighth grade, our school signs on a new teacher, who is only 22 and appears even younger, especially since he loves talking about bikes and his voice sometimes cracks spectacularly while he’s teaching. One day his wife brings in cupcakes for our class for his birthday. She takes a picture of our class with our cupcakes and it’s posted on one of the school’s social media pages.

I think nothing of this until my mother is scrolling through her own social media and looks up.

Mom: “[My Name]?”

Me: “Yeah?”

Mom: “This is your class, right?”

Me: “Yeah. It was [Teacher]’s birthday so his wife brought us cupcakes.”

Mom: “I know, it said that in the caption. But I was looking for your teacher and I couldn’t find him at first . . .”

Me: *pointing* “He’s right there.”

Mom: “I know—but when I saw him I thought he was a student!”

so i’m in eight grade and my sister is in sixth grade. we go to the same school. also, my sister plays flute and so do i.
we’re at the open house and my sister is exchanging schedules with her friends. my sister notices that even though her other friends play flute (like her), they have different periods for their flute class. (when i was in sixth grade there was only one flute class).
my mom starts acting like a karen. she is mad that it’s not the same way it was when i was in sixth grade and she goes straight to the band room to speak with the band director (bd).
bd is very nice. she’s kind, funny, and polite. then my mom starts storming in carrying my sisters schedule.
mom: hey, what’s up with this? my daughter here is in fifth period flute class, and her friends are in third period. is there two flute classes or is this a mistake?
bd: well, my boss just gave me this schedule with two flute classes and i went with it. but her friend so-and-so is in fifth period class too.
mom: well, most of her friends are in third period! why can’t she just be in third period?
bd: if you talk to (counselor) maybe she could put you in third period.
mom: no!! that will mix up her entire schedule and she JUST found all her classes!!
bd: well then she’ll have to stay in fifth period. she does have some friends in that class…
mom: but all her friends are in fifth period!!
(all this time i was standing next to mom and bd, embarrassed)
me: mom, please calm down. she’ll make lots of new friends in her own class.
mom: (ignoring me) THIS IS RIDICULOUS!!! i wish you would just make it like when my OTHER daughter was in sixth grade (meaning me). come on girls, let’s go.
i give bd a reassuring smile and follow my angry mother out of the band room. i should mention that my sister didn’t give a crap what period she had flute class. so that’s my story.

(It is a Monday night and my colleague and I are working behind the bar, as it’s Monday the pub isn’t busy, but there are a reasonable number of customers. As well as booze the pub also serves food. It’s also part of a local chain and, confusingly, there are two of this particular chain in town. This means we sometimes get people trying to book tables for [Other Pub], this can usually be resolved by saying ‘We’re [Pub] are you thinking of [Other Pub]?’ Not in this case.)

The phone rings and I answer it.

Me: Hello, [Pub]’
Man: Hello, I’d like to book a table for 7.
Me: Okay, how many’s that for?
Man: 3, at 7:30
I pause
Me: Okay, so that’s for three people at 7:30 yes?
(There is a lot of noise as he discusses this with a woman in the background.)
Man: Yes, three at 7:30
Me: Okay, can I take a name and a phone number
(More discussion, he then tells me a name and a number)
Man: Can that be in the main room please?
(This immediately sets me on guard, because although we do have a ‘snug’ it’s really in the same room as our bar and lounge.)
Me: I can put you in the Lounge? Is that what you mean?
(By this point it has become quite difficult to understand the man as he’s talking to the woman in the background and since he’s phoning on a mobile the sound quality isn’t excellent. There’s also a decent amount of noise from the bar)
Man: (something like) Are you near Stevens?
(I have no idea what he’s talking about at this point.)
Me: Um, let me just check with my colleague.
Me: (To my colleague) Are we near Stevens?
Colleague: No, there’s no Stevens anywhere that I know of, does he want [Other Pub]?
Me to colleague: I’ll check
Me to man on phone: Hi, we don’t know of a Stevens round here? Could you be trying to phone [Other Pub]?
Man: No, it’s you. Do you have any bookings for Steven?
Me: Oh! It’s a booking, sorry I misunderstood, I’ll just look.
(My colleague checks the list of bookings, but we haven’t taken any bookings for today.)
Me: ‘Sorry, we don’t have any bookings for anyone today. Are you absolutely sure you’re not trying to phone [Other Pub]?’
Man: Speak to my wife.
(He puts his wife on the phone, who, at least speaks more clearly.)
Woman: Hi, Steven has a booking with you at 7. We’d like to book the table next to him, also at 7.
I roll my eyes
Me: We don’t have any bookings today. I think you’re probably trying to get through to [Other Pub]
Woman: We want [Name of Chain]
Me: Yes but we’re [Pub], I think you want [Other Pub] which is also in town and part of the chain
Woman: You’re not [Other Pub]?
Me: No, we’re [Pub]
(She hangs up)

My colleague to me: You know what the weirdest part is, other pub doesn’t have a ‘main room’ at all.