(Up until recently, I worked in the bakery department of a deli/bakery combo in a supermarket chain. One of my coworkers is very short, and I’m just over six feet tall. If I am on my knees getting something from a bottom shelf, and she stands beside me, the top of my head still comes up over her shoulder. I have playfully harassed her about her height since the beginning, since she isn’t sensitive about it and the whole department enjoys teasing each other. One day after I quit, I am in to do some shopping, when she sees me.)

Short Ex-Coworker: “[My Name]! When are you coming back to work with me?! I miss you!”

Me: “Why? Is there something you need on a shelf?”

Short Ex-Coworker: “No!”

Other Ex-Coworker: “What about yesterday when you were trying to get that box of containers off of the top of the supply shelf, and it tipped over backwards on top of you and trapped you inside?”

Me: “HA!”

Short Ex-Coworker: “I keep forgetting how much I hate you both. One day, I’m going to have my revenge.”

Me: “I’ll order some shin guards.”

(I’m visiting my doctor for a checkup following a surgery to remove an early-stage cancerous tumor. When the checkup is finished, the physician asks me if I have any other questions or concerns.)

Me: “Well, actually, I’m worried about [hormonal disorder]. I’ve a fam—”

Doctor: *cutting me off* “You don’t have that.”

Me: “What? My mother has this disorder, my sister has just recently been diagnosed, and we’re fairly certain my grandmother had it, too. Plus, I noticed—”

Doctor: “You don’t have that. If you did, we’d be seeing [other, unrelated symptom], and we’re not. So, you don’t have it. Anything else you want to ask me about?”

(Irritated, I told the doctor that I didn’t have any more questions, and left. I ended up contacting a different doctor for a second opinion. The new doctor asked me about my symptoms and medical history, and then immediately sent me for diagnostic tests. It turns out that I DO have the disorder, and a fairly severe case, too! She couldn’t believe it when I told her that my usual doctor wouldn’t even look into my concerns, when all of my symptoms and history pointed to this disorder. It just goes to show you the value of getting a second opinion, and that it’s okay to “fire” your physician if they aren’t doing a good job!)

(I get an automated scam call. I stay on the line because they sometimes offer a don’t-call-back option that, in my experience, USUALLY stops the calls from any particular series of scammers. They have the option, so I press it and the call automatically ends. The phone almost immediately rings again, coming from a blocked number.)

Me: “Hello?”

(A live rep immediately goes into the same spiel as the automated one.)

Me: *interrupting* “Sorry, who are you calling for?”

(He starts the spiel again from the beginning.)

Me: “No, no. Who are you calling for?”

Scammer: “We’re calling about your credit card—”

Me: “My credit card? Okay. Who am I, then?”

Scammer: *hesitating* “You qualify for a lower interest—”

Me: “If you know what I qualify for, you know my name. Who are you calling for?”

Scammer: “We’re calling about a credit card—”

Me: “NAME.”

Scammer: *stammering* “We’re offering a lower interest rate on a credit card—”

Me: “Name! Give me a name. I know what you’re calling about; I want to know who you’re calling for. Give me a name! No offers, no numbers; name. Just a name!“

Scammer: *slams phone*

Me: *cackle*

(My friend run a small business and, on occasion, they have special events that include renting out market stalls. They take bookings ahead of time, but on this occasion, one of their regulars hasn’t arrived so there is an empty table. The rent they receive goes to a charity. I am helping them out in their main shop when one of their staff members comes over.)

Staff: “Hey, [Owner], I thought the table next to my shop was for [Regular Stall Holder]?”

Owner: “It is; she’s not arrived yet.”

Staff: “Well, some woman has just sat down at it and started putting out items, and has been asking people to buy them.”

Owner: “I’ll come over and take a look; maybe [Regular] asked her to start setting up.”

Staff: “There’s nothing there that she would normally sell.”

(A few minutes later the owner comes back, he is fuming.)

Owner: “What is wrong with people? This woman saw an empty table and decided to set her own stall up. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me she wanted to sell her things. I told her that she needed to pay rent for the stall. She refused to do that because ‘it’s a charity event and the tables should be free.’ So, I asked how much of her takings she would be donating, and she told me that she isn’t going to donate anything because she is selling her own things.”

(Stall holders were also donating a percentage of their sales towards the charity. They ended up kicking her out and sitting one of their volunteers at the table with their own stock.)

(I am standing in line at my local post office when I overhear this:)

Man: “There’s been a problem; I’ve put my mail on hold, but it’s still being delivered.”

Worker: *interrupting him* “Yes, your mail was delivered to your mailbox.”

Man: “My mail was put on hold because I don’t have a mailbox right now.”

Worker: “Well, you should have been issued a temporary city-given one.”

(In our city, if a mailbox is damaged, it will be replaced by the city.)

Man: “No, I don’t have a mailbox, temporary or not. And now I’m looking for a week’s’ worth of mail.”

Worker: “The mail was delivered to your mailbox!”

Man: “The mail that should have been on hold was delivered to the mailbox I don’t have.”

Worker: “I’m sure the delivery person was just trying to be nice!”

Man: “By delivering my held mail to a mailbox that’s not mine?”

(Throughout this entire conversation, the post office worker continued to walk in circles about the mail, which should have been held, being delivered to either a mailbox that didn’t exist or to the wrong one. No apologies were given, either, and no ETA was given on the missing mail.)