(I am at the drive-thru.)

Me: “I would like to order a number three with a [Soda].”

Attendant: “Number three comes with a drink…”

Me: “In that case, I’d STILL like a [Soda]…”

(I am a pretty healthy person. I love veggies and fruit, which is what my cart is full of, as well as nuts, chicken, and other assorted food.)

Cashier: “You don’t have any fun food!”

Me: “What? Oh, I love this. It tastes great.

Cashier: “No, no, you need a pizza or something! The only kinda fun thing on here are the chips, but you got the organic ones!”

Me: “Those ones are made with flax seed. It gives them a different flavor that I really like. They taste great with hummus!”

Cashier: “Why don’t you run and get a pizza or ice cream?”

Me: “I don’t want to. This is the sort of food I like.”

Cashier: “Are you anorexic?”

Me: “Excuse me?!” *I am 5’4 and 115 pounds, which is slim, but definitely not anorexic looking*

Cashier: “Well, this seems like the sort of food an anorexic would get. Are you trying to starve yourself? You are already pretty tiny. You should probably get some real food so you don’t disappear.”

Me: “Wow. Do you know that is pretty rude to say?”

Cashier: “Hey! I am not being rude!

Me: “Okay, then. Can you just ring me up now?”

Cashier: “Can you at least grab a candy bar?”

Me: “Seriously?”

Cashier: “What? I am trying to look out for your health!”

Me: “Everything on this entire belt is healthy. Everything you mentioned is not healthy.”

Cashier: “But it’s good for your soul!”

Me: “So eating food that I am not fond of is supposed to make me happier than eating food I actually like?”

Cashier: “Yes!”

(My manager has gradually been cutting the hours of any employee under the age of 20. Most of them have finally just up and quit, but I really need the money so I’ve been dealing with it. When this happens, he’s already cut my weekly hours to zero once before, making me call and request hours, at which point he reluctantly pulled me back. This week I’d actually had a full weekend scheduled, which is way better hours than he’s been giving me. On Friday, he tells me this.)

Boss: “[My Name], go ahead and head home a bit early. Oh, and you don’t need to come in tomorrow or Sunday. I didn’t give myself enough hours so I need to take yours.”

(I immediately know that’s bullshit, because he’s the GM of the store and gets paid salary.)

Me: “Sir, I really need these hours, and—”

Boss: “No, no, it’s fine. Just call me up Monday or something to get your hours for next week.”

(I grimace and take it, because at least he said I’d be getting hours next week. He never gets the schedule up until the Friday or Saturday before, so I just agree to call. However, when I call him Monday…)

Me: “Hey, boss, it’s [My Name]. I was looking to see what my hours were?”

Boss: “Oh, yeah. Listen, I’ve decided this position isn’t right for you. Sorry.”

(He promptly hangs up. He didn’t have the courage to let me go to my face, so he took my last hours and did it over the phone.)

(I work in the local shopping centre, which has just updated its parking ticketing system among other renovations. Now staff members are required to have permanent plastic cards, as opposed to prepaid cards, although we’re supposed to be able to use the last of our prepaid cards during the crossover period. Entering the car park at peak hour, I find my prepaid card isn’t accepted, and I don’t have my regular card yet. I press the help button.)

Operator: “Hello?”

Me: “The machine isn’t accepting my prepaid card for the staff car park. Can you please open the gate, and I can give you my card upstairs at the kiosk? I’m on my way to work, and there’s a line of cars behind me.”

Operator: “No. You need to have your staff card. Go to the customer car park today.”

Me: “Look, even if I wanted to pay triple the amount for the a day of car parking, I can’t. There’s a line of cars behind me. Can you please raise the gate, and I’ll come pay you in a moment? I can give you my details now, if you want.”

Operator: “I’m not raising the gate. Go to another car park.” *hangs up*

(I try to reverse, and so does the car behind me. By this time, the queue is all the way to the end of the street, and no one can move.)

Me: *pressing the help button*

Operator: “Hello?”

Me: “Look, do you have a camera on this street? The line is all the way up to the lights. I can’t move. Please raise the gate, and I’ll come in to pay. I can’t leave the car park without a valid paid ticket anyway!”

Operator: “I’m not raising the gate. In fact, I’m sending down security.”

Me: “Good! Send down security!”

(A number of other people in the line try to give me their cards to use. None of them raise the gate. When security arrives, I explain to them what’s happened, and they ask the operator over the radio to raise the gate. They tell me she’s being an ‘idiot,’ and apologise that they can’t manually raise it. I press the help button a few times to get the operator back.)

Operator: “Hello?”

Me: “Hi, it’s me—”

Operator: *hangs up*

(By this time the line of cars has queued across the intersection, causing a road block on one of the three main roads feeding into the city centre. The security guards are still no help, so I have to manoeuvre my car to mount the curbs and obstructions to go around the gate, into the car park, scraping all down the underside of my car. Later I file a complaint at the concierge desk, and am met by the east coast manager for the car park company that operates in this shopping centre, who is here for the day to oversee renovations.)

Manager: “I’m so sorry about that. What can we do to make this better?

Me: “I want an apology, I guess, and I want her disciplined, and taught to speak to customers rather than just hang up because she can.”

(The concierge desk staff member quietly interjects that the staff member has been hanging up on a lot of customers lately, and that she’s already had a complaint today.)

Manager: *silkily* “This staff member and I will be having a meeting one on one this afternoon. Here are a stack of vouchers for the shopping centre. Here are my personal details, so you can tell me how much it costs to fix the car.”

(That evening, as directed by the manager, I ask a different operator over the intercom to raise the gate as I have no validated ticket from proper entry. I explain the situation, and as directed, name their manager.)

Operator: “Uh, who? Yeah, I’m not raising the gate.”

(I hear someone ask in the background what was going on. The guy quietly tells him, and mentions the name that I quoted.)

Me: “Hello? I can give you his details if you want-”

(The gate opened, without another word from the operators.)

(I am at work when I get a call on my cell phone. The number is unknown, but is from Oregon.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Hello?”

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: *speaking in a stereotypical Indian accent* “Hello, am I speaking to [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes.”

Caller: “Good afternoon, [My Name], I am calling from the network department. Today is your scheduled upgrading today. Please go into your Microsoft system.”

Me: “Which department are you from?”

Caller: “The network department, ma’am.”

Me: “And you want me to open my account and start giving you information?”

Caller: “No, ma’am, I don’t want any information. I just need you to open your operating system.”

Me: “Are you aware you’ve contacted an officer in the United States Army?”

Caller: *pause* “Oh. You are in the Army?” *hangs up*