(phone rings)

Me: Hello [Name Of Store] [My name] speaking

Caller: Y’all guys open?

Me: … Yes sir.

Caller: Aight thanks – *click*

This happens every single day.

Customer: excuse me, how much is this? There’s no price on it?

I grab the book, turn it over, and tell them the price.

Me: That’s 179kr

Every day. Every single day for 5 years. I need a new job

(Ever since her knee surgery I haven’t seen my regular dermatologist, instead I see one of her two assistants. PA1 is ex-military, very brusk, and doesn’t like to do anything extra. PA2 is extremely sweet, a better doctor than my actual dermatologist, and was the first to figure out I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. I go in once a year for a mole check as skin cancer is what ultimately killed my paternal grandma. This time I’m stuck with PA1. It should be noted because of my PCOS I’m under the care of an endocrinologist so I get my blood tested every three months. The PCOS has contributed to weight gain over the years so yes, I am fat.)

Me: While I’m here – my feet have been super itchy. It’s just like I have ants crawling all over them.

PA1: *doesn’t even bother to look at my feet* That’s because you’re diabetic.

Me: No I’m not. My bloodwork shows my blood sugars are well within normal range. I’m not even pre-diabetic.

PA1: If you feet are itching like that it’s because you’re diabetic and have neuropathy.

Me: I just saw my endocrinologist recently and I am NOT diabetic. All my bloodwork shows everything is normal except for being severely anemic.

PA1: I’ll prescribe a steroid but you’re diabetic and have neuropathy.

*She prescribes a topical steroid that does absolutely zlitch for the itchiness. I end up finding more relief from a medicated powder from the dollar store. Also my blood work over the next year confirms I’m STILL not diabetic. On top of that my feet are very ticklish, so obviously no neuropathy. Cut to my next mole check, this time I get PA2.*

PA2: *noticing the smell of medicated foot powder* Are you having problems with your feet? *she begins to examine my feet*

Me: Yes, they itch a lot. (PA1) insisted I have diabetes and neuropathy but she prescribed something anyway – it didn’t work.

PA2: You don’t have diabetes or neuropathy. You have a foot fungus.

(PA2 prescribed a foam and a special powder. Within a week my itchy feet stopped itching. And according to my endocrinologist – I’m STILL not diabetic.)

I work the morning shift cleaning a local pub before my other job. The first thing I was confronted with upon entry this morning was a large, terrified bat flying around the downstairs bar and restaurant area. He is not very friendly , but my boss has told me I’m not allowed to phone animal control because they will have to foot the bill. After an hour of trying to catch the bat/trying to keep it away from scratching me whilst I clean, the phone rings.

Me: Hello, [pub], how can I help you?

Customer: Hey, [boss], so about what we were talking about earlier-

Me: Sorry, sir, [boss] isn’t here yet. She’ll be here in about two hours, when the pub opens. Can I pass a message on?

Customer: What? Don’t lie! I was talking to her LITERALLY two minutes ago! At [pub]! On this number!

Me: It might have been me you talked to? I’ve only answered the phone once, and it was a lady. But [boss] definitely isn’t here; I’ve been the only one here since 6AM.

(Cue Mr. Batty McBatface flying around in a frantic, squeaking rage, flying into my head several times.)

Customer: Don’t lie to me you sl*g. Just go get [boss]. I KNOW I just spoke to her- all I did was hit redial on my phone! GO GET HER! I don’t have TIME to deal with you! It’s urgent, and if you ruin it, I’ll make SURE you lose your jo-

(I drop the phone and jump backwards because of the, again, large, terrified bat flying into and around my head. After a few seconds, he settles somewhere, and I pick the phone back up.)

Customer: HELLO? HELLO? [Boss]! HELLO! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!

Me: Okay, sir, I’m terribly sorry, but [boss] still isn’t here. She will not BE here until we OPEN. I will ask her to ring you back as soon as I can. Now, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to end the call because there is a BAT in the building, and I have to deal with that first. Please ring back at [time] and someone can help you.

(I ended the call. I could hear him calling me a sl*g before I managed to hang up. The bat is fine, and was ushered back into the cellar without incident.)

(I’m in the front area of a chain salon, waiting to get my hair cut. The only other people there are the receptionist, two hairdressers, and two customer’s who’s hair is being cut at the moment.)

A family walks in, they have two sons that looks about 7 and 9 years old.

Receptionist: Hi, how can I help you?

Mom: We need two boys haircuts.

Receptionist: Okay, there may be a bit of a wait is that okay?

Mom: I don’t mind waiting.

Receptionist: Great, I’ll just make sure we have time to do both of your sons as it’s pretty close to closing.

Mom: Alright

(The receptionist checks and come back in a few seconds)

Receptionist: I’m really sorry we only have time to do one of your sons today.

Mom: We don’t mind waiting if it’s possible.

Receptionist: I’m really sorry we’re not allowed to stay open late.

(The family gets up to leave)

Dad: You could have said something sooner

Receptionist: Sorry sir, but I didn’t realize we wouldn’t have space for both your sons.

Dad:(now yelling) We wasted 5 minutes of our time, we were sitting her for five minutes and you took your sweet time telling us that NO our sons can’t get their hair cut.

Receptionist: I’m really sorry sir but we have to close.

Mom( Now also yelling): Well, we wasted five minutes at this dump you could have done better.

After they left the receptionist started crying.