(It’s seven pm on a weeknight and I have just left work after my eight hour shift. I am really hungry and stop to get dinner from a drive-thru.)

Employee: “Hello, welcome to [Different Restaurant]. Would you like to try our new burger meal?”

Me: *does a double take and starts laughing*

Employee: *laughs* “Oh, my god, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that.”

Me: “It’s okay; I’m not one of those mean customers. I understand.”

(I tell them my order and drive to the window, and find a young employee laughing and talking to coworkers.)

Me: “Hey, you must be [Other Restaurant].”

Employee: “Yeah, I work there, too.” *tells me my total and swipes my card and then hands me my card back*

Me: “I bet you must be overworking yourself. Here is a dollar so you can get a treat for yourself tonight.”

Employee: *closing the window and starts talking to her coworkers while laughing at me* “Oh, my god, now she is trying to give me a dollar.”

Me: *feels like an idiot*

(I’m at a deli at the grocery store, trying to get some cuts. I’ve already gotten a half pound of turkey from the employee.)

Employee: “Do you need anything else?”

Me: “Yes, a third of a pound of roast beef.”

(The employee gets the beef out, and then looks back up at me.)

Employee: “Did you say half pound?”

Me: “A third of a pound for this one.”

(The employee starts up the slicer, and I’m waiting around. It seems like it’s taking longer than expected, and when he puts up the beef on the scale, it reads almost a half pound.)

Me: “Oh, I wanted a third of a pound.”

(Rather than stopping and taking some of the beef off, he starts slicing again.)

Me: “Sir, I said a third of a pound.”

Employee: *looking up* “Yeah, that means .75 of a pound.”

Me: “Um, no. That’s three quarters of a pound. A third of a pound is .33.”

(The employee gives me a blank look.)

Employee: “Most people mean .75. I got chewed out for that earlier.”

Me: “Well, whoever chewed you out shouldn’t have. That’s not a third of a pound, that’s three quarters. A third is definitely .33.”

Employee: “Well, most people mean .75 when they say a third of a pound.”

(I did get him to give me a correct third of a pound, but he repeated his insistence that “most people” meant .75 when they said “a third of a pound” in a tone that suggested the confusion was my fault. As this is a grocery store I frequent and I have never had a problem getting a third of a pound before, I suspect that there wasn’t any chewing out, but that he was trying to cover up his error.)

(I have come into work and immediately rushed into the manager’s office.)

Manager: “We had a discrepancy of £15 on the registers yesterday and we need to investigate. Do you have any reason why the register would be short?”

Me: “Me personally? No.”

Manager: “Did you see anything unusual?”

Me: “No?”

(The rest of the discussion followed a similar path of me answering “no” to practically everything. We reach the end.)

Manager: “Okay, if you can just sign the bottom? I must warn you that if this happens more in future, we will have to consider disciplinary action.”

Me: “Are you serious? I’m not signing that.”

Manager: “Then I will have to note that down as suspicious.”

Me: “[Manager], I wasn’t even working yesterday.”

(The manager blushes, shuffles the forms underneath the desk, and lets me go. Fast forward a few months and I have taken on a role in the back, managing weekend administration. A similar situation occurs where there is a discrepancy, and I complete the procedure as I have been taught. The same manager is on duty that day and is expected to do the investigation.)

Manager: “We need more forms.”

Me: “Those forms include everyone who had access to the register yesterday, including those who topped it up. Even [Store Manager] is in there.”

Manager: “We need more, though.”

Me: “Why? Literally everyone who had the ability to steal from the register is included.”

Manager: “Yes, but you have to do randoms, too, to keep everyone on their toes.”

Me: *shocked* “But they’re used as strikes against the workers’ files. You’re putting people at risk of unnecessary disciplinary action.”

Manager: *staring me down* “We need more.”

(She left with the forms and ordered me to make more. I did, but I didn’t name them, and waited for the store manager, who happened to be coming in that day. I have never seen anyone go pale so quickly as when I told her. She halted the investigation (sending the manager home), and she and I spent the rest of the weekend going through the personnel files and comparing them with the schedules and payroll records. I even found the £15 form I refused to sign, with a poor attempt at forging my signature on the bottom. Overall, the additional forms were responsible for approximately 10 disciplinary actions, some of which resulted termination. The store manager reported it and the manager was promptly fired. I have had to take on a full time role in the interim of finding a replacement. Discrepancies still crop up, but the personnel files aren’t filling up as quickly, and everyone feels a lot calmer now that she is gone.)

(I just interrupted the task I was working on to serve a customer. When I’m done with the customer, I don’t remember what I was just doing.)

Me: “Now… was I doing things, or was I doing stuff?”

Coworker: “You were doing stuff.”

Me: “Stuff it is!”

(When I was younger, my family used to do a lot of shopping at a particular store where you have to pay for a membership. I hadn’t been there for many years, but I was shopping for an event with someone who had a membership. I really enjoy bread pretzels, and they tend to be difficult to find in my city. I used to get them at this store, and I’m excited to have one.)

Me: “I don’t see pretzels on your menu, but you used to have them. Maybe I’m just not seeing them?”

Cashier: *in a very snotty tone of voice* “We’ve never sold pretzels! This is CANADA! We don’t serve pretzels here!”

(I must’ve missed the law banning the sale of pretzels in Canada! I was also apparently hallucinating the pretzels I ate in that store.)