(My grandmother has developed dementia. This means my dad and his siblings have to do a lot of her administration. My mother has been doing her taxes for the longest time and she has complained about the long list of donations to charities my grandmother has been doing every month, as this apparently makes her taxes very complicated to deal with. For this reason, and because we can’t know for sure if my grandmother is still supporting these charities, my dad, as her legal representative, decides to cancel almost all charity donations. However, as my grandmother didn’t keep much track of them herself, and did some as she had already started to develop dementia, some of them cause quite funny conversations.)

Dad: “I would like to cancel the monthly donation from [Grandmother’s Account] please, as [Grandmother] has developed dementia.”

Charity #1: *searching* “Ah, I see the donation; however, it is under a different name. Does [Grandfather] approve of the cancellation, too?”

Dad: *starts laughing* “Well… [Grandfather] has been dead for… how many years now?”

(At this point I enter the room.)

Me: “18 years.”

Dad: “18 years, my daughter says.”

Charity #1: “Ah, I see. I guess he does approve. We’ll cancel it for you and you’ll receive a confirmation email.”

(I stopped in at an office supply store early one morning before work. I approach the checkout; I am one of the only customers there.)

Cashier: “Good morning! How are you this morning?”

Me: “Pretty good. You?”

Cashier: “Pretty crazy today, but otherwise okay.”

Me: “Crazy? It’s only 8:20 in the morning!”

Cashier: “True, but I’ve been crazy since I was born. I’m used to it.”

(My family decides to visit my sister at college. The city has a few other colleges as well so we were excited to try what the heartland America version of international cuisines we regularly have authentic versions of in our home city would be like — because who doesn’t like to try new things? We decided to try out a hibachi restaurant at the lunch time.)

Server: “We have a lunch special sale on sushi and we are selling it for $2 each.”

Me: “$2? Isn’t that a little cheap?”

Server: “A little, but it’s just a small bundle of rice with a topping wrapped on top.”

Me: *thinking that’s a little expensive for something so small but I’m hoping it will be really interesting or tasty and worth it*

Server: “Here’s the ordering card for the sushi.”

(It has “sushi” written on the front, and “maki” written on the back.)

Me: “What about the back? Are those items for the sale price as well?”

Server: “Yes, like I said, it is all $2.” *she sounds very frustrated with me asking so many questions so I decide it is best to not ask any more questions*

(Deciding that it was technically on sale and this meal was kind of a family treat I decide to get fifteen rolls for what should be a total of $30. Everyone else’s food comes out and the chef does the whole hibachi presentation which is fairly entertaining. Finally, after everyone else’s food was made and eaten, a plate of sushi comes out to me. I start eating and then they start bringing over plate upon plate of food. I ask the girl who was my server what is going on and she just rolls her eyes and said I got what I ordered. I am a little surprised to get so much food but decide to accept my good fortune. Then the bill comes to the table — for over a $100 just for my food! Clearly they ordered too much food and charged me way too much. I try to talk to the waitress about it again, but she just rolls her eyes at me and walks away from the table. I finally get up and looked around the store until the manager comes up to us and scolds us for not paying our bill yet.)

Me: “We can’t pay our bill yet. We’ve been trying to find you. There’s a major problem with this bill.”

Manager: “I don’t see what’s wrong. You ordered a ton of food and you have a big bill. That’s how it works.”

(My dad just stares at him, and then I try to explain.)

Me: “I did not order this much food. I ordered 15 small ‘bundles of rice and toppings’ as explained by your server which the server assured us many times would only cost $2 each.”

Manager: “No, she told you that only the front of the ordering form was $2 each. The back of the form was for rolls and they cost full price.”

Dad: “We all heard her say absolutely everything on both sides of the form was only $2 each. We will not pay extra because she didn’t explain it well.”

Manager: “[Waitress], did you tell them all of this was only $2?”

Waitress: “No, I explained the specials to them and said only the front.”

Dad: “We literally have a whole table of people and everyone heard you say everything on the ordering card cost only the special price.”

Manager: “Well, I can see you think something was messed up, but this is your bill and you have to pay it. Really, did you think we would charge that little for so much food? I couldn’t run a business that way!”

Me: “Frankly, it’s not my job to understand how your business works and look out for your bottom line. It’s my job to follow information given by servers and order accordingly, and your server gave us inaccurate information. Now, are you going to fix this, or aren’t you?”

Manager: “I can see you are upset that you misunderstood what my server said, but I am not giving you a discount because you clearly can’t hear well. You are either paying for your food or we are calling the police for theft of products.”

Me: “You have to be kidding me. Your store outright lied and is now trying to extort us for money.”

Dad: “It’s not worth it. We’ll pay the bill this time but we’ll warn everyone that this store is dishonest.”

(In the end, since we had to pay for the food anyway, I brought the extra pieces of sushi home with me and ate sushi every day for a week. I got grounded by my parents because I didn’t know better to expect the server was lying and cost them so much money. I still am mad at that server for outright lying so many times to me and my parents and the manager to their faces!)

(I made a Boxtroll costume for Halloween the year the movie came out. I cobbled two boxes together into a large box with a hole on top for my head to come through, tall enough to rest on my shoulders, and altered a skeleton mask to look like the characters that sits on top of my head. I also print out a Candy Brand label and stick it to the box, deciding that was my Boxtroll name. I have the day off, but I decide to drop in at the store to show it off. I sneak into the office, hear two of my managers talking in one room, and set my box in front of the room, blocking the narrow hallway. I duck inside the box, waiting for them to notice me before I show them my mask. They come out of the room, still talking… and inch their way around the edges of my box, going into another room, without a break in their conversation. I wait, a little dumbfounded, and a minute later one of them comes out of the room, carefully moving around the gigantic box in her way, again without a word. I pop my head up through the top, and she’s across the office with her back to me. I shuffle over to her.)

Me: “…Hello?”

Manager #1: *jumps and spins around* “[My Name]! Where did you come from?”

Me: “I was the giant box in the middle of the hallway…”

Manager #1: “Wait, what?”

Me: “How did you not think that was strange?!”

Manager #1: “Well, there are boxes in here all the time…”

Me: *nearly crying with laughter* “It says ‘[Candy Brand]’ on the box! We don’t even sell [Candy Brand]!”

Manager #2: *comes out of the room* “[My Name]! Where did you come from?”

(Clearly I am a very successful Boxtroll. I also have never, ever let those two forget that time they thought I was a box.)

(I’m waiting for my pneumonia shot. A woman comes in with a hypodermic.)

Woman: “I can never get these computers to work!” *types, mutters* “So hard to log in — there! Now… okay, there we are. Now let’s get your shot!”

Me: “Um, you’re not wearing any sort of ID.”

Woman: “Oh, I guess I’m not. Another nurse needed to borrow it.” *moves towards me to give shot*

Me: “I don’t think so. You’re a total stranger with no identification; we’re not doing this!” *and I’m thinking, she’s foolish enough to admit she gave someone else her ID?!*

Woman: “You’re exactly right. I’ll go get it.”

(She leaves, comes back, and waves an ID at me. I grab the ID and carefully check that the photo matches the face, which it does.)

Woman: “Let’s get this over with, because I have to get my ID back to the other nurse. She still needs it.”

Me: “No, thank you.”

(I filed a formal complaint against her at the front desk. I’ll get my shot some other time!)