(I’ve had an awful week altogether: a close relative’s battle with cancer is not going well, I sprained my ankle and it has been hurting for days, my tooth has been aching, I had to get a biopsy of a lump in my breast, my studies are not progressing as well as they should, due to our differing schedules I haven’t been able to talk to my best friend in few weeks… Pretty much nothing is going my way. Then I call my landlady.)

Me: “Hi! I just called to ask if it’s okay to lend the spare key to my friend? She has university’s entrance exams here in a few weeks, but I won’t be here during them because I’m going on a trip with another friend. She will just leave the keys here when she’s done.”

Landlady: “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll try not to visit then, so I won’t scare her. But how has it been going? We haven’t seen each other for a while.”

Me: “Well, I should be getting on with my studies, but I’m a bit behind the schedule. It’ll take me another year to graduate from [University].”

Landlady: “That’s not even slow. My daughter took ten years to graduate.”

Me: “Yeah, I guess six years is just fine. Well, in other news, I’ll be going home to work for the summer. I’ll still pay the rent for my room, though.”

Landlady: “I was meaning to say something about that. You and [Roommate] have been really good tenants, so I was wondering what you’d say about not paying rent for June?”

Me: “Oh, that sounds really good, but that’s… too much. I can’t ask for that.”

Landlady: “Well, you’ve lived there for many years, always paid your rent on time, and I don’t have to worry about the apartment, so I’d really like to do this. I know you don’t make too much money over the summer anyway. Can you tell this to [Roommate], too?”

Me: “Of course! Thanks. This is amazing.”

(My landlady had always been an awesome lady, but this left me almost crying from happiness after the horrible week I had been going though.)

(In Virginia, open containers of alcohol are not allowed in public area. However, if a restaurant has sidewalk/outdoor patio space, they can get a permit to serve alcohol there, as long as their seating area on the sidewalk is designated with some sort of physical indicator.)

Me: *in chained-off patio area, talking to woman across the patio* “Hey, Trish! Did you—”

(I realize it’s too noisy for her to hear me, so I walk around the patio, outside of the chain, and then talk to Trish. I’m still holding my bottle of beer.)

Waitress: “[My Name]! You can’t have your beer outside of our patio!”

(I look down, and see I’m still on the outside of the chain. I then step over the chain, but put my feet in the exact same place, but now the chain is behind my calves.)

Waitress: “That’s better.”

(I am a younger, female design engineer working for a helicopter manufacturing company, and it sometimes seems like my assessments aren’t taken seriously. An older senior project engineer storms in, in a tizzy, to get information on one of my projects after he has a meeting with someone higher up the corporate ladder.)

Project Engineer: “I need to know the weight of this part… this plastic mount for the wire ties!”

Me: “It’s negligible, and we are only using one in my kit.”

Project Engineer: “You don’t understand! [Higher-up] wants an EXACT weight, and I need it immediately so I can get this guy off my back!”

Me: “Ok, give me a couple of minutes to find it.”

Project Engineer: “Thanks, I’ll be back in a few.”

(He runs out the door. I finally find the info he wants after 10 minutes of searching.)

Project Engineer: “Did you find it?”

Me: “Yes. The weight is 40.37 grams per 100 of them.”

Project Engineer: “Ok, so how much is that in pounds?” *gets paper and pen to write it down*

Me: *after quick calculation* “Point zero eight nine per hundred. One of them weighs point zero zero zero eight nine pounds… or a little over fourteen one-hundredths of an ounce…”

Project Engineer: *starts writing and repeating to himself under his breath* “Point zero zero zero—” *stops short and looks up* “…hahaha!” *drops pen* “Okay, I’ll just tell him it’s negligible. Thanks!”

(I’m ordering something from a large shop in Bogner Regis. Talking to an employee over the phone, it went well until this. Note: I have a slight cold.)

Employee: “Okay, can I have your address, please?”

Me: *states address* “Arundel.”

(This is pronounced ‘arren-dull’.)

Employee: *after a couple of seconds of silence, sarcastically* “Very funny. Your real address, please.”

Me: “That is my address.”

Employee: “I need a real address for delivery.”

Me: *not understanding what I did* “What did I do wrong?”

Employee: “This is a serious business. We don’t have time for clowns.”

Me: “What?!”

Employee: “I need a real address or I’m terminating this phone call.”

Me: “It’s a real address! Look it up on Google; I don’t get what the problem is—” *I realize* “—Oh! Oh, look, please, I’m not pretending. Just look it up on Google.”

Employee: “I don’t have time for this.”

(I called again and I got another employee, one who knew how to read a map!)

(I work as a cake decorator in a grocery store bakery. Since I can’t see the displays without walking out onto the floor it can be difficult to keep everything full. At the time I have five minutes left in my shift and about fifteen minutes’ worth of cleaning left to do when the store manager calls me out onto the floor to look at the cake displays. My mind goes straight into panic mode, assuming something is terribly wrong and I’m going to have to stay late to fix it.)

Manager: “I want you to tell me what you see.”

Me: “Several of the jumbo cupcakes are low, there are only one of those cakes left, that spot’s also almost empty…” *I point out a couple more almost empty spots, but fortunately nothing is completely empty*

Manager: “Oh, yeah? I see lots of beautiful colors.”

Me: *in relief* “Oh, really?”

Manager: “Yeah, they’re all very eye-catching. Good critical eye on your part, though.”

(I appreciated the compliment, but it really wasn’t worth the near heart attack he gave me while giving it!)