Tattling on myself here. Went into my cell phone store and told them I have an I.D.Ten T error. For some reason my phone wasn’t accessing data.
Turns out I’d turned the data off in the main screen.
We laughed at my stupidity for having a PEBKACH (Problem Exists Between Keyboard And CHair) issue.
By the way, I.D.Ten T is usually written ID10T.

(I am a deli clerk at a grocery store. The two cheapest meats we have are a ham and a turkey. I wouldn’t even say turkey. You look at the ingredients list and it says turkey breast, turkey broth, and one or two other things that I can’t remember. It is literally mush that they put into a mold. All the employees hate that we order it and hate handling it. It is slimy and squishy and gross, if you drop one while carrying it to the slicer it will bounce like a ball. We silently judge everyone who buys it.

Both thus ham and the “turkey” are normally$4.99 a pound. A few weeks ago they were on sale for $2.99. We keep them at the far end of the cold case that we serve our customers from, they are the red headed step children of our stock. The ham isn’t too bad, just really processed.

One day during this sale, I have a man approach that end of the case and I go to serve him. He is hee-hawing around and trying to decide how much of the cheap ham he wants.)

Man: “oh, maybe a pound. Oh…no, maybe a half…”

After a few moments of him going back and forth, he notices the “turkey”.

Man: “Oh, (brand) turkey breast…maybe I want some of that. Oh! It’s the same price.”

Me: “Yes, sir. They are both on sale for $2.99 a pound.”

Man: “So they’re both the same price…” *thinking again*

He then looks up at me.
“Well, what’s the difference between the two?”

(I stare at him for a few moments to see if he is joking. He just stared blankly and expectantly back.)

Me: “Well…One is ham…And one is turkey.”

Man: “Oh, okay. I’ll just take some ham.”

(He sounded almost dissappointed, like he was expecting a fancier difference like the way they cooked or something. I think two different animals is a pretty fucking big difference. Or maybe he was pulling my leg and has a great poker face. I hope it was just that or he was really tired and unable to think clearly.)

A couple years ago I went to an urgent care clinic with a serious pain in my abdomen, was diagnosed by the doctor, who sent me to the ER of the nearby hospital.
There are lots of stories I could tell about this hospital stay, but the most serious one was regarding getting some assistance upon discharge. I checked with my insurance and they told me assistance — even rental of a hospital bed! — was available, but ONLY through my “case manager” at the hospital.
So the story here is that I ONCE reached my case manager by phone in the hospital, but I NEVER ONCE got to see her in person, and I could get her to do NOTHING on my behalf. Near discharge, I still could not both lie flat and breathe. Since I’m rather habituated to breathing, I had to keep my hospital bed at maybe a 20-degree angle.
When I got home, a few days after abdominal surgery I still needed to sleep slightly elevated, but because of my case managers refusal to lift a finger in my behalf, I got no assistance whatsoever. I checked a local surgical supply store for bed wedges, and found them too expensive — as I’d have needed two or three to get the angle. Of course, renting a hospital bed was out of reach.
Needing sleep, I took a plywood board, leaned it against my headboard, then padded that with a cushion to get some sleep the first night home.
The next day, still less than a week after laparoscopic surgery left five holes in my abdominal wall, any of which could feasibly herniate, I had to wrestle with an adjustable futon frame to rig a bed I could sleep in without suffocating. The only saving grace was that I’d equipped it with a lightweight foam mattress, not a heavyweight futon, and may have been the only reason I didn’t herniate an incision site.
Two days after I got home, I received a letter in the mail that was a form they’d “signed” for me, to the effect that I could get assistance for post operative home care — which I never got.

I work at a department store known for their red star. It is two hours until my shift is up and we’ve been swamped. It is no tax weekend. I notice a huge group of people making a mess out of the clearance/last act area and ignore it for the most part. Until they make it to my counter. The woman is one of the rudest, most angry looking people I ever saw. I am just gonna call her angry lady.

Angry Lady: I expect you to coupon all of these.

Me:-having seen where they were shopping- Oh I am sorry, ma’am, these are all last act, and our coupons are not going to work on them as they have already been greatly reduced.

Angry Lady:-screeching- I have over two hundred dollars worth of shit here, discount it!

Me:-ringing it up, and removing security sensors- I am sorry, there is nothing I can do.

Angry Lady:-turns to a thin woman who I assume is her sister- I can’t believe this, I am buying so much and they can’t discount me. -pauses to yell at her swarm behind her- Don’t clean anything up, this bitch isn’t being helpful. -back to me- Well what do you know about clothes? You don’t have taste, alright ring me up and -snatching a hanger hard enough for it to whip my arm- leave me my fucking hangers. Gonna hang everything up and make sure you don’t steal from me.

I am completely shocked that she thinks I would steal cheap men’s clothing and go on with the sale. Once she is done, she counts everything before I could put them in hanging bags to again make sure I didn’t steal or some shit. We move on to the shoe return/exchange. The shoes she are exchanging for are a buck twenty nine more expensive. So I inform her. Again this leaves to screaming and screeching. I should point out that the thinner woman is now in Jewelry, screaming profanity and treats at the lady there because she wanted to return a discounted ring at full price. By the time I am done with the exchange, and I explain that the coupons would not work on nike shoes, the lady jerks the bag from me hard enough that I fall across the counter. I wimpier in pain and my older co worker has had enough.

Co Worker: EXCUSE ME!

Angry Lady: She’s just fat, not pregnant.

Co Worker: I do not care if she is fat, skinny, pregnant or not, don’t you EVER treat a person in my department like that!

The lady and my co worker have a verbal sparring match while I walk over to deal with the mess they left. It takes me three trips to get everything they left behind in the dressing room. Angry Lady watches me the whole time and has one more bullet to fire at me.

Angry Lady: If anything is damaged, it was like that already, fuck you you fucking bitch.

This is the first time in ten years of retail experience that I have honestly nearly broke into tears.

((I’ve just walked into my favorite Chinese place late at night (9 pm) and am informed immediately the air is broken, there is no sushi, and there is no hibachi. I still agree to eat there as I can live without the air for this food. There are two other families in the place as well. This happens with one of them.))

Father: Where’s the sushi?
Waitress: No sushi. No ac, can’t keep sushi fresh.
Father: *sighs* Fine, we’ll get other plates.
*5 minutes later*
Father: Where’s the hibachi?
Waitress: Hibachi closed at 8:30. No more hibachi.
Father: *sighs yet again yet sits down with his family at their table with plates full of food*
*2 minutes later*
Father: Get up. Come on. We’re leaving. *leads family to the front where the manager is*
Manager: You leaving?
Father: It’s hot, there’s no ac, there’s no sushi, and there’s no hibachi. We came here just for the sushi and hibachi and you don’t even have any!
Manager: Sorry, no hibachi after 8:30. We can’t fix ac, needs new part. Will be fixed tomorrow. So sorry.
Father: Fine. We’re leaving, then, since you don’t have anything we want.
Manager: Do you want box? Take the food with you?
Father: No. I don’t want any of your $**t, I just want hibachi and sushi!
Manager: I sorry. Please come back and let us try again another day.

(With that, the father storms out dragging his family out with him, cursing up a storm. He was clearly told no sushi, no hibachi, and no ac even before they ordered food. Yet there were four STACKED plates of food at their table that had to be thrown out.)