I am taking the bus home from work one night and am the last passenger of the night. I am going to get off the bus and walk home like I normally do. It is a long walk home from that particular bus stop.

The bus driver asks me if I am walking into the next town over, which I am. He tells me to get back on the bus and drives me to the next town as it is on his way back to where they keep the public transit buses overnight. He does not even charge me extra for the ride, even though he could have.

Normally I would not accept rides like that, but this bus driver was looking out for me as I am a female and I was going to be walking home by myself. I wish more public transit bus drivers were like that. It really restored my faith in humanity.

(A movie viewing app on my aunt’s phone has been giving an error message and she asks me to try and fix it. I try to look it up to try and fix it myself, but when I look up the error it seems too complex for me. I try contacting the call center but since it is the weekend they are closed. I am about to give up when I realize what I had found online seems like it could be a problem within the android phone itself. So I decide to call her [Phone Brand] support center to see if they can help.)

Support: “Hello, my name is [Name]. What is the problem today?”

Me: “Hi, my aunt’s phone has been getting an error when she is in an app. It is the [App] app. When she starts a movie she is getting an error message the message is [Error Message]. From what I looked up it could be a problem with it being an android device.”

Support: “I’m sorry; what was the error message?”

Me: “It’s [Error Message].”

Support: *pause* “Have you tried taking out the battery and putting it back in?”

Me: *pauses* “Nope, not dealing with this…” *hangs up*

(It doesn’t take a phone expert to realize that if you are able to open the app then the phone is running fine. Taking out the battery is not going to do anything to fix an app. I expected suggestions like clearing cache or data but not something as irrelevant as the battery. I was just not in the mood to deal with ignorance. Granted, I get that the phone provider might not be able to do anything about it; I just figured it was worth a try.)

(I’m the customer in this story. I’m at a well-known retail store, picking up some things for my daughter. She’s fallen in love with a pair of Captain America pajamas, and the only one in her size is missing a price tag. I grab another from the rack so they can see the price and head to the register. The Cashier #1 starts ringing my items and, when he gets to the pajamas I stop him.)

Me: “Those are missing the price tag. I brought another one so you could see the price tag.”

(Cashier #1 rings the other one and goes to put it in the bag.)

Me: “No. Those were just so you could see the price tag. I need this one.”

Cashier #1: “But they’re different sizes.”

Me: “I know. My daughter needs this size.”

Cashier #1: “But they won’t cost the same amount. They’re different sizes.”

(I stare at him for a minute, thinking he’s joking. When I realize he’s not…)

Me: “They’re both standard sizes. They cost the same amount.”

Cashier #1: “No, they don’t. Each size costs a different amount.”

Customer #1: *behind me* “Maybe for a men’s 3XL, but not kids’ pajamas.”

(My cashier calls over to the cashier working the next register. Thinking she’ll set him straight, I relax and apologize to the people behind me that I’m holding them up.)

Cashier #2: “Ma’am, we can’t charge you a small price for a large pajama. They don’t cost the same thing.”

Customer #2: *also in line* “Are you kidding me?”

Cashier #1: “See, a small costs one price. A medium costs more. Not much more, but a bit more. And then a large costs more than that.”

Customer #2: *again* “Are you kidding me? No, they don’t.”

Cashier #2: “Different sizes cost different amounts.” *to [Cashier #1]* “Try putting in the number on the tag.”

(He has to go over to her so she can show him where the number is. He puts it in and the register asks for the price to be charged.)

Me: “I can pull up the pajamas on the store website, if you’d like. The large costs the same amount as the small. I can show you. They’re both $11.99.”

Cashier #1: “No, they don’t.” *to [Cashier #2]* “What should I do?”

Cashier #2: “Just let her get away with it. Put in the same price as the small.”

Me: *to [Customer #1]* “Am I in the Twilight Zone?’ *he laughs*

(Cashier #1, having “given in”, gives me my total. I am holding money out to him when I realize Cashier #2 has called over a supervisor.)

Cashier #2: *pointing over at me* “She’s trying to get a large pajama for the price of a small!”

(I should note she’s declaring this quite loudly. I’m hopeful that the supervisor will finally correct them.)

Supervisor: “Well, if he’s already taking her money, there’s nothing I can do. Just let it go.”

(Customer #1 was now laughing and the rest of the guests were shaking their heads in disbelief. Cashier #1 took my money, gave me my change, and the three of them glared at me as I left the store. I’m not one to make a fuss over things, but I actually called the corporate line and made a complaint (my first time ever doing that). I would have found it comical had they not treated me like I was a criminal pulling off the heist of the century. I was surprised security didn’t tackle me as I left. And the customer service agent I spoke to didn’t believe me at first. He thought I had to be joking. His response: “Did they really try to tell you that a small costs less than a medium or a large? Seriously? It sounds like they need to be retrained. I’m sorry about that.”)

(I am very heavily pregnant with twins, one boy and one girl, and have gone into labor a few weeks before my scheduled C-section. It should be noted I am rather short and plump, but my pelvis is so narrow I cannot give birth naturally. My husband is waiting with me; he is fifteen years older than me. He is also very tall. They have sent a nurse to retrieve me in the ER waiting room.)

Nurse: *stopping to look me over* ‘My, you’re a big one, aren’t ya? Well, sit down and we’ll get you back and prepped for your scan.’

Husband: “She’s not here to be prepped for a scan. We’re going upstairs.”

Nurse: “Scans are done back there, not upstairs.” *starts trying to push me but I dig my heels in as she pushes me to the back*

Me: “Listen, I need to go upstairs, not in the back. Now, please, kindly wheel me upstairs.”

Nurse: *not listening* “I realize when you are this obese that the scans and x-rays seem silly, but really it’s probably just gallstones and better to know now and get you on a diet to lose this tummy.” *looks at my husband* “I believe your daughter gets her size from you, sir.”

Husband: “I was sort of hoping my son did, but seeing as they’re both trying to come out now, what say we wait and see?”

Nurse: *sputtering* “I just thought she was fat and just wanted attention! I was just going to take her for an x-ray to calm her down! I’ll get her up to a birthing room!”

Husband: “We’re headed to the OR. She needs a c-section.”

Nurse: “Someone as fat as her just wants to be lazy and not push!”

(The nurse was reprimanded after she brought me literature on obesity and liposuction!)

(One of my work duties is a monthly bank deposit of the miscellaneous cash collected by various departments on our campus. This usually involves a very large stack of small bills. This time, the teller isn’t familiar with my company and my routine.)

Bank Teller: “Good morning; how can I help you?”

Me: “Deposit to [account number], please.”

(I start taking bundles of $1 and $5 bills out of my briefcase; almost $4000 total.)

Bank Teller: “Lots of singles; did you have a fair or something?”

Teller #2: *drops a tray of coins* “What?!”

Bank Teller: “I asked if he had a fair. Like a carnival or something. That’s a lot of small bills.”

Teller #2: “Oh, god, I thought you asked him if he was having an affair.”

Me: “I’m not, but if either of you is offering…”