(I get really horrible migraines that pretty much turn me into a drooling zombie. Most of the time I just go home, take my meds, and sleep it off. This time, however, I pick up my girlfriend from work and have to pick up a few things on our way home. My girlfriend runs ahead to gather the things on her list quickly so we can leave. I wander over to the drink aisle. On my way over an employee sees me and gives me a really weird look, which I shrug off as I’m not really all there at the moment.)

Employee: “Ahem.” *dramatically clears his throat*

(I look at him to see what he wants, but he just looks back at the shelf he was stocking. So, I continue looking for what I want.)

Employee: “AHEM!”

Me: *slurring my speech a bit because of the pain* “Can I help you?”

Employee: “No. I’m sorry. I was just clearing my throat.”

(The employee walks away to another part of the store. Moments later, I’m walking back to meet my girlfriend at the register when a manager and the employee comes up to me.)

Manager: “Miss, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Me: “Um, sure.”

Manager: “Miss, we don’t want any trouble, but we need you to leave.”

Me: “What!? Why?”

Manager: “There has been a complaint that you are, um… high. This is a family store, you see, and we can’t have that kind of stuff here. Please leave before I call the cops.”

Me: “I assure you, sir, I am not high. You must have me confused with someone else.”

Employee: “No, I saw you! You can barely walk and talk! You’re obviously hopped up on something!”

(At this point, my head is throbbing, and I just want to be home. Luckily my girlfriend comes up to us.)

Girlfriend: “[My Name]. what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Manager: “No, miss, she’s not. Are you aware that your friend here is stoned?”

Girlfriend: “What!? [My Name]’s never been high in her life!”

Employee: “Then why is she stumbling around the store? I mean, look at her; she’s high as a kite right now!”

Girlfriend: “Oh my gosh, really? Look, she’s got a really bad migraine. It makes her a little out of it. We were just on our way home and needed to stop. Otherwise she would be home asleep by now.”

Me: “Oh, that’s probably why you think I’m high. Sorry. Yeah, when I get a headache I pretty much can’t do much of anything.”

Manager: “Likely story! You’re probably both high! Please leave before we call the cops. Now!”

Girlfriend: *to me* “Hun, show them your pills.”

(I took out my prescription bottle of migraine medicine and showed it to the manager. One look and he blushed, mumbled an apology, and practically ran back to his office, the employee trailing behind. Needless to say we never shopped there again!)

(I’ve ordered takeaway from a restaurant by phone. I’ve been told it would take about 20 minutes. It’s just around the corner so after 20 minutes I go to fetch my food.)

Me: “Hi. I ordered on the phone.”

Waiter: “You’re late.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Waiter: “I’ve got your order here, but you’re late.”

Me: “I thought it was going to take 20 minutes.”

(By now, it’s been 25 minutes.)

Waiter: “Yes, and you are late. You’re lucky we were nice enough to keep it warm for you, or you’d be eating cold food.”

Me: “… Okay, thanks.”

Waiter: “Next time, don’t be late!”

(I have recently injured my wrist while on the job. Normally I have a fairly high pain tolerance, but this was to the extent that I couldn’t do anything more strenuous than writing with a pen or typing on a keyboard. Thankfully, there’s an emergency medical office across the street from where I work, and it’s part of our insurance’s circle, so everything will be handled as part of on-the-job injury coverage. After filling out the paperwork – carefully – and waiting a short time, I go in to see the doctor.)

Doctor: “So, what’s the problem?”

Me: “I injured my wrist. I don’t think it’s outright broken, but moving it in any direction hurts so badly it shoots up to my shoulder.”

(As I was talking, the doctor is unwrapping the athletic bandage I had around my wrist. He then proceeds to start squeezing and rubbing my wrist as well as turning my hand every which way.)

Doctor: “Well, it seems fine. There’s a bit of bruising but no swelling and you don’t seem to be in that much discomfort.”

(It seemed the fact that I wasn’t screaming in pain meant there ‘wasn’t much discomfort.’ That my free hand was white-knuckle-gripping the table and I had tears running down my face didn’t seem to matter.)

Me: “It hurts a LOT. Please stop…”

Doctor: *still working my hand around* “Are you sure you’re not just trying to get money from your work?”

Me: “STOP! I can’t take it! STOP!”

(I yanked my arm out of his grip and he began yelling at me about “causing a disturbance”. It seemed that I shouted loud enough for one of the other doctors to hear. She came in and, after hearing both sides of the story, left to have a few words with the other doctor. The new doctor was the only one to come back. Thankfully, the x-rays she set up for me came back that it was just a severe strain, nothing torn or broken. If they HAD been, it turned out that the way the first doctor had manhandled me could have done permanent damage to the very tiny bones in the wrist!)

(I enter a fast food restaurant close to where I live. I notice that the guy behind the counter is alone despite there being a huge line. When he finally gets to me, he looks very frazzled.)

Employee: “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a while since your order isn’t ready.”

Me: “That’s fine.”

(A quarter of an hour later I still haven’t got my food, but I’m in no hurry, so I keep waiting. Suddenly he looks up at me and I can see all the blood draining from his face.)

Employee: “Oh, my god. I completely forgot about you. I’m so sorry! You can have your meal for free if you like.”

Me: “I paid by card, and I don’t want to give you any extra trouble since you’re understaffed. So, don’t worry about it.”

Employee: “I could give you a free ice cream? Or an extra burger?”

Me: “Really, I’m completely fine, and you’re just tired. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

(At first he just stares at me, looking like he might just cry from relief.)

Employee: “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me all day. Let me get your order.”

(When I checked my bag, I found that he’d put coupons for two free meals there, along with a hastily scribbled thank you note.)

(I’m a new employee at the bookstore and my manager asks me to double-check a long and complicated order for a teacher. He wants me to make sure all the books have come in before we call her, but I can’t find a master list.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager]. I’m trying to find out if all the books for [Teacher]’s order have come in, but I can’t find a list of what she ordered.”

Manager: “What do you mean you can’t find it? All you have to do is LOOK!”

Me: “I looked at the pile of books but all I see are packing lists of what’s already come. I can’t find a record of what was ordered.”

(The manager sighs loudly and rolls his eyes at me, but then I get a customer at the service desk and he tells me he’ll handle the task since I’m apparently not trained well enough to do something this simple. I help the customer as my manager starts digging through the book order. Finally he grabs the corded telephone and starts dragging it off into a corner.)

Me: “[Manager], what are you doing?”

(The manager ignores me and tries to drag the phone as far from me as possible.)

Manager: *into the phone* “Hello, [Teacher]? I’m trying to make sure your entire order is in but someone seems to have misplaced the record of what books you ordered. If you could call us back or fax us your wish list I’ll check it over and make sure it’s all here. Thank you!”

(The manager hangs up, puts the phone back where it belongs, and walks away without acknowledging that my problem had been legitimate.)

Me: “Well, all you have to do is LOOK!”