(I am about to be made redundant and so have been searching desperately for a new job. I have posted my CV on several job sites and set up various alerts for jobs in the West Midlands. I’ve had various agencies call me offering me various jobs that either aren’t in the field I currently work in, pay way too little for me to accept, or in one memorable instance, require a little too much travel.)

Agent: “Hi there. I am calling on behalf of [Agency]. I think you would be a perfect match for a six-month contract we have.”

Me: “Great! What’s the job?”

Agent: *describes a pretty good job offer with good pay* “…and it’s based in Watford.”

Me: “I’m sorry; did you say Watford?”

Agent: “Yes, is that a problem?”

Me: “Just a bit. You know I live in Birmingham?”

Agent: “Yes… Is it a bit too far for you?”

Me: “It’s over 80 miles away!”

Agent: “Oh! Well, you could always stay in a hotel during the week!”

(I have done this before in a previous job for 18- months and hated it, so I am not willing to even entertain it.)

Me: “What? No way. I doubt the company would pay that expense.”

Agent: “Would you be willing to relocate maybe?”

Me: “No! Why would I leave a city I have grown up in, and move away from immediate family for a contract job? And nothing you have said hints at a relocation payment.”

Agent: “Uh, well, no, you’d have to pay for it yourself. Maybe you could stay with family close by?”

Me: “Okay, no. That is ridiculous. I am not taking a job that means I would never be home.”

Agent: “Well, it would only be for six months. Are you sure it’s a deal-breaker?”

Me: “Yes, I am, and even if distance wasn’t a problem, I have a pet…”

Agent: “Oh! Oh, yeah, I totally get that. Pets are a big responsibility! Thank you for your time anyway!”

(So, the fact that I didn’t want to have an eighty-mile commute, relocate, live out of a hotel, or couch surf for six months was not a valid excuse, but the second I mentioned having a pet it was understandable? Not to mention that this guy hadn’t even thought to check a map before calling me! I am still baffled to this day.)

(It’s a Monday, and I enter the break room to find my coworker. She is pacing the room and fuming.) 

Coworker: “Someone stole my hummus!” 

Me: “What? Seriously?”

Coworker: “Yeah! I had a whole tub in the fridge, and now it’s gone.” 

Me: *looks and points at the employee refrigerator with the big sign saying that the fridge is cleaned out every weekend* “This fridge?”

Coworker: “Yes! Why would someone do that? Who would just take it?” 

Me: “They clean that out on the weekend to keep it clean. You can’t leave stuff from Friday.”

Coworker: “But they wouldn’t throw away my hummus! Someone took it.” 

Me: “No, they would throw it away.” *reading the sign aloud* “’Cleaned out every weekend. Everything must go.’”

Coworker: “They don’t really mean everything.” 

Me: “I think they’ve left, like, a sealed pop can a few times. But that’s unopened. But [Office Manager] even said they’ll throw away a lunchbox if it’s left in there repeatedly.”

Coworker: “My hummus was sealed.” 

Me: “Like, unopened?”

Coworker: “Well, it had a lid. They wouldn’t throw it away if it had a lid!” 

Me: “They absolutely would. They even send out a reminder email most weeks on Friday to take your stuff from the fridge.”

Coworker: “No. Someone stole it. Who would do that?” 

Me: *giving up* “Beats me.”

(I overheard her later in the day, complaining to someone else asking, “Who would do that?” It’s like she liked the idea of a hummus thief.)

I was asked by the boss lady to keep an eye on the filing. Human nature being what it is, most colleagues were prone to putting the documents in the correct folder at best or correct box at worst, but not the correct place. I did what was requested, keeping an eye and confronting my colleagues and asking politely but firmly that they put the documents in the correct order. 

Fast forward about two months. I was told not to bother anymore. There were too many complaints about me being too strict about the filing. 

Fast forward another month or so. I was asked to find a document that had been wrongly filed since I was asked to step down and could not be traced. I politely declined since I was no longer in charge of filing.

And, yes, the document remained lost and no, I was not asked to take the filing back under my wing.

(I work as a cashier in a family-run burger restaurant. One of my fellow cashiers is very bad at math, which wouldn’t be an issue normally because the register does all the math for us. But he insists on writing out the prices and stuff on a pad next to the register before entering it, leading to conversations like this one:)

Customer: “I’d like [order].”

Cashier: *writes the order down on his pad, slowly working his way through the math* “That will be [Total].” *finally actually puts order into the register, which then promptly displays that total*

Customer: “Okay…” *hands over their payment*

Cashier: *starts figuring out the change he needs to give on the paper*

Customer: “Is something wrong with the machine?”

Cashier: *huffily* “I just like doing things myself.” *finally punches the payment in, getting prompted with the exact change needed*

(He’s been talked to by the supervisor several times, but he keeps insisting that he can do it himself. I’m pretty sure he is related to the owners in some way, which is why he hasn’t been fired yet.)

(Our car is going to be out of commission during a very busy week for us, so we decide to rent a car at a place near our home. However, they have one of those things where you get routed to a centralized phone service that is not local. I am a woman.)

Me: “We would like to rent a midsize car at [Location] for five days, starting this afternoon.”

Operator: “What state is that in?”

Me: “It is in Vancouver, Canada.”

Operator: “I see seven locations in Vancouver.”

Me: “Yes, I’d like the location on [Street].”

(The name of the location and the name of the street are the same, and not similar to any others in Vancouver.)

Operator: “The address is [Number and Street]?

Me: “Yes.”

Operator: “What time is your flight coming in?”

Me: “We are local, just renting a car while ours is in the shop.”

Operator: “Is this an insurance claim?”

Me: “No, we’re paying for it ourselves.”

Operator: “And when do you want to pick it up?”

Me: “Today between five and six.”

Operator: “And drop-off?”

Me: “Wednesday at five.”

Operator: “And what size of car would you like?”

Me: “Any four-door midsize car.”

Operator: “And what is your name?”

Me: “I’ll give you my partner’s name, as she is the one who will be picking it up and driving.” *gives obviously female name*

Operator: “And what time will your husband be there?”

Me: “My wife will be there between five and six.”

Operator: “So, he’ll be there at four?”

Me: “No, she will be there after five.”

Operator: “Okay, will he be using a major credit card?”

Me: “Yes, she will be using a Visa card.”

Operator: “Is it a major credit card?”

Me: “Yes, it is a Visa card.”

Operator: “But is it a major card?”

Me: “Yes.”

Operator: “…”

Me: “…”

Operator: “Um… okay. And what time is your flight leaving?”

Me: “We are not flying. We are local.”

Operator: “Is this an insurance claim?”

Me: “No. We are paying ourselves.”

Operator: “And would your husband like a navigation system for an extra $10 a day? It gives directions, and restaurant and event recommendations.”

Me: “No, thank you, we know our way around.”

Operator: “Oh! Is this an insurance claim?”

Me: “No. It is not insurance. We are not flying. We just need a car for a few days. My wife is a woman, and she will be there between five and six to pick up. She will be using a Visa card, which is a major credit card in Canada. We will drop it off at five on Wednesday.”

Operator: “And what time does your flight leave?”

Me: *giving up* “Eight pm on Wednesday. What time do you suggest we drop it off?”

Operator: “Around five.”

Me: *briskly, in an effort to bring the Hell to an end* “Excellent. Thank you so much; please send me an email confirmation.”

(Amazingly enough, the car was waiting for us at our local branch.)