(I am a writer and content editor for a company. The writing office is fairly small, so everyone can easily talk to each other without leaving their desks.)

Coworker #1: “Whoa!”

Me: “What’s up?”

Coworker #1: “Did you see the email we just got?”

Me: “No, I haven’t checked in the past ten minutes.”

Coworker #2: “Check your email. It has to be seen to be believed.”

(I check my email, and in it is a job application. Somehow, this person sent it to the whole office instead of just our boss. The letter starts off fairly normal, stating she went to school for journalism, but by the second sentence the applicant is claiming the reason no one will hire her is because she’s been cursed by a jealous Haitian witch. She lists all the ways the witch has ruined her life, including how she’s using witchcraft to mess with her phone, laptop, and Gmail account, lose her voice, lose her fingers, hands, and arms so she can’t type, and to get people to lie in court about her. I read through the letter it a few times, completely in shock.)

Me: “Good freaking lord.”

Coworker #2: “I’ve seen some weird applicants, but this is beyond insane.”

Coworker #1: “Is she for real? Maybe she made it up to show how creative she can be?”

Me: “If that’s the case, then she’s failed at that, too. Her writing is terrible! She constantly repeats herself, the sentence structure is sloppy, she’s giving us a billion reasons NOT to hire her, and she didn’t even give any references.”

Coworker #1: “Hey, [Boss], did you see this?”

Boss: “I read two sentences and deleted it. I have had more than enough crazy for the week.”

Me: “Yeah, this’ll fill your crazy quota real quick.”

Coworker #1: “Should we call her and find out if she’s for real?”

Me: “That’ll only encourage her. If she calls us, then you can be the one to talk to her. Otherwise, don’t engage the crazy lady.”

(The application went on our “Wall of Shame” to prove it really happened, and we have not heard from the cursed lady since.)

(My coworker and I have a similar sense of humour.)

Coworker: *drops staples on the ground while trying to fill his stapler* “I guess shouldn’t have skipped stapling class!”

Me: “Oh! But it’s such a ‘staple’ of the curriculum!”

Coworker: “I tried to get out of gluing class, but I was stuck.”

(Just before I go in to work, my mom calls to let me know that my uncle – who practically raised my father – has just passed away. Said uncle lived over 1,000 miles away from where we are now, so we’re still trying to work out who will be able to attend the funeral and all those other practical details while mourning. Having just recently gotten married, I’d used up all my time off for the honeymoon, and haven’t accrued much more. Once at work, I manage to catch my boss alone.)

Me: “I just wanted to let you know, my uncle passed away. We were very close to him – he pretty much raised my dad – so I would like to attend his funeral, if at all possible, but it’s out of state. I know I don’t have a lot of time off, but—”

Boss: *cutting me off* “I’ll process your compassionate leave with HR. Don’t worry about it. Normally, I don’t think they cover uncles, just immediate family and grandparents, but I’ll take care of it. So tell me about him. Your uncle.”

Me: “Well, he was in the military for a bit. Then he became a firefighter, and a cop, and later a police commissioner. He taught my dad everything he knew about sports, and he was one of the best men I’ve ever met. He has three kids, and his wife…” *at this point, I’m fighting back tears, because I don’t want to cry in front of my boss*

Boss: *noticing my struggle* “So I love pie. It’s awesome.”

Me: *choking back a laugh* “Pie is awesome. My favorite is pecan, but it doesn’t love me back. Stupid nut allergy!”

Boss: “That stinks! But seriously, pie! It’s the greatest creation known to mankind. Except rhubarb pie. That stuff’s gross!”

Me: “Seriously! And strawberry rhubarb is worse; why waste perfectly good berries, tainting them with rhubarb?”

(This continued for a few more minutes, as he cheered me up talking about pie, then puppies, then any number of other happy things. He also followed through and talked to HR, getting me enough time off that I was able to drive with my father and support him through the funeral. Best. Boss. Ever!)

(I have to make a late milk run at a popular retail place. I get in line, at the only register open, and we start doing my WIC, a government program to help mothers and children, and we realize… neither of us has a pen.)

Cashier: “I’m sorry. Let me page my manager; normally she has one.” *enters code to page the manager* “Sorry about this.”

Me: “It’s fine, really. Normally I bring one but I forgot tonight.”

Cashier: “It’s fine!”

(Ten minutes go by with no sign of the manager and a line has formed.)

Me: “I really didn’t mean to hold up the line.”

Cashier: “You’re not. Does anyone have a pen? My manager must be stuck.”

Lady: “I have one.”

Me: “Thank you! I’ll give it right back.”

(We get through the first check, then we have to do the fruit and veggies and I go over, so I opt to pay the rest by personal check.)

Cashier: “Why won’t this… I’m sorry, this seems to not want to go through.”

Me: “It’s fine. It happens all the time, and you’d think I remember how it’s done!”

Cashier: *smiles and calls up the manager again*

(We wait a few minutes, and see the manager, who sees how many of us there is and runs in the other direction.)

Cashier: “[Manager], wait! I need… assistance… Really?”

Me: “I have to pick up my daughter from my parents house…”

Cashier: “I am so, so sorry.”

(We wait an additional few minutes, making it a total of 20 minutes I’m at the register, and holding up the line.)

Me: “What is the time?”

Cashier: “It’s 9:30.”

Me: “Oh, man I really have to get my daughter. Look, maybe—”

Manager: “I’m here!”

Cashier: “About time!”

Me: *sighs in relief*

Manager: “Be lucky I’m not turning you away.”

Me: “Sorry…?”

Cashier: “She hasn’t done anything! She’s been patiently waiting for you so she can check out and leave! Please show me how to do this, so I can get the rest of her items, and she can pick up her TODDLER.”

Manager: “Don’t need to be so rude!”

Lady: “Ma’am, why did you take so long?!”

Manager: “I was busy!”

Cashier: “We saw you, running away.”

Manager: “Just get this woman out of here.” *she leaves*

Me: “Wh-what did I do!?”

Cashier: “I’m so sorry, [My Name]. She’s horrible; why she’s even still working here is beyond me…”

(When I was leaving, I heard the cashier making a report to their boss on her phone while checking people out, but I really do doubt anything will come of it.)

(I’m going on a long trip and have to board my cat. He’s a sweetie, but he’s a huge grey tabby, nearly 20 pounds. Not fat, just gigantic. As such, his crate is one normally used for dogs.)

Me: “Hi, I’m here to have my cat boarded. I have a reservation.”

Receptionist: “Yes, I see. Is this your cat?”

Me: “Yes.”

Receptionist: *looking inside the crate* “Um, sir? We don’t take exotic animals.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Receptionist: “That’s some sort of bobcat or something. We can’t board exotic pets.”

Me: “No, he’s just a cat. He’s big, but he’s a cat.”

Receptionist: “Are you sure?”

(My cat at that point, since he doesn’t like being crated, had the decency to meow. I open the crate so they can see him fully.)

Receptionist: *still a little concerned* “My god, he’s huge!”

Me: “Yeah, but he’s the sweetest thing.”

(I pick him up and he holds onto me as he’s a bit nervous with the new place.)

Receptionist: “Okay…”

(When I came back from my trip, they all were gushing at how friendly my cat was… the Gentle Giant.)