(I’ve been suffering a serious lack of motivation, excitement, and other generally positive emotions recently, so I decide to see if I could get prescribed some anti-depressants, or something of the sort to help me start functioning. Being a person with relatively bad anxiety, I decide to try to contact my old psychiatrist that I had when I was being given ADHD medicine. After a bit of contact, I learn that since it’s been over a year since I last saw him, I qualify as a new patient, and am told he’s not taking new clients. However, the lady on the phone offered to send him an email, seeing if he might be willing to make an exception. Understanding that it was no guarantee, and that it was even unlikely, I accepted. About a day later, I receive a call from the psychiatrist’s office, this time from a different, older sounding woman.)

Secretary #2: “I’m calling [My Name] about a request to see [Psychiatrist]? I’m sorry, but I’m afraid he’s not taking new clients at this time. Would you like to schedule to see another of our doctors?”

(I’m a bit upset, but I understood from the beginning my chances of getting back in were low. I politely decline for the time being, intending to look more into the other doctors before picking one. About two days later, I get another call. This time, it’s from the secretary I originally spoke to, who offered to send the email.)

Secretary #1: “Hi. [My Name], I’m calling back about your appointment request for [Psychiatrist]. He hasn’t gotten back to reply yet, as he only comes in a couple days a week. Would you like to keep waiting, or go ahead and try another doctor?”

Me: *confused* “I thought he wasn’t taking new patients? I got a call telling me he wasn’t going to see me…”

Secretary #1: “Yes, disregard that. Sorry for the confusion. She didn’t see the note I left her. Your reply is still pending. Would you like to keep waiting?”

(I eagerly agree, glad that I hadn’t already scheduled an appointment. Again, about another day later, I get a call, again from the older woman from the first callback.)

Secretary #2: “Yes, I’m calling again to tell [My Name] that [Psychiatrist] is not taking any new patients.”

(Since the wording is so similar to the first time, I explain that I had an email sent and was waiting for a reply.)

Secretary #2: “Yes, I saw that. Unfortunately, he’s already incredibly booked and we’re lucky we have him the few days we do. He is not taking any new patients; this is an order from his boss. Would you like to schedule with another doctor?”

(Thinking this as final, I decline again since I’m nearing tears of disappointment. We hang up, and I start looking up other psychiatrists. However, again, a day later…)

Secretary #1: “Yes, I’m calling back about [Psychiatrist]. He has agreed to see you, so long as you agree to first make an appointment with one of our psychologists to get diagnosed.”

(I’m shocked.)

Me: “Really?! I was told that there was no way I was allowed; he had orders from his superior…”

Secretary #1: “Well, I apologize for the confusion, but I can assure you he has agreed. Will you come in for a counseling session?”

(I agreed, and we set up an appointment. Since neither secretary gave me their name, I couldn’t file a complaint about the one who, for seemingly no reason, was rather desperate to keep me from seeing the doctor I was comfortable with. Oh, well.)

(I’ve woken up with what I suspect is the flu. Not wanting to work around food or people in this condition, I call in. After explaining to the shift manager that I’m not coming in, she puts the store manager on the phone.)

Manager: “What’s going on?”

Me: “I’ve been throwing up all morning, and can hardly get out of bed. I think it’s the flu.”

Manager: “Okay, so what time will you be coming in, then?”

Me: “I’m… not? I’m sick. I can hardly walk, let alone drive. I won’t be in today.”

Manager: “I’m not allowing anybody to call-in anymore. I’m tired of dealing with this s***.”

Me: “You do realize that it’s against the law to force someone to come into work around food with a potentially communicable illness, don’t you? It’s an OSHA violation.”

Manager: “I don’t care. I’m not putting up with call-ins anymore. You can come in, and I’ll decide whether you’re sick enough to go home or not, but you need to be here for at least two hours. So your choices are to come in, or quit.”

Me: “I quit, then.” *hangs up*

(He actually tried to call me to make sure I was making my shift the next day, so I politely reminded him I quit before hanging up on him again. Within weeks, I found a job making a lot more money, with more hours, and a much more understanding boss.)

(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.)