(Three years earlier, I had a tattoo done at a very well-reputed and very CLEAN studio that came highly recommended. The doctor is a new one at this office.)

Doctor: “What seems to be the problem today?”

Me: “I think I have the flu. I started feeling sick about a week ago. I thought it was a cold, but it got better instead of worse.”

Doctor: “It has been going around. What are your symptoms?”

Me: “Viciously congested, barking cough, headaches, chills. My whole body hurts. I have no appetite. And, as of yesterday, I’ve also got a fever.”

Doctor: “Yeah, that sounds like the flu, all right. Are you in school?”

Me: “No, I work. But my mom’s a schoolteacher, so the germs probably hitched a ride with her.”

(She starts to examine me and it all goes normally until I have to take my sweatshirt off so she can listen to my chest, which reveals my tattoo.)

Doctor: “Oh, dear…  Did you get this tattoo in the last six to twelve months?”

Me: “No, it was years ago. It was my birthday present to myself when I turned 19.”

Doctor: “Have you ever been tested for hepatitis?”

Me: “Um, no…?”

Doctor: “Are you aware how infectious hepatitis is? You can get it very easily from dirty needles. You need to be tested.”

Me: “I appreciate your concern, but—”

Doctor: “I can’t tell you how many young people I see with their piercings and tattoos. Their little friends told them where to go to some guy for it, and they don’t realize how dangerous dirty needles are. It sounds like you could have it.”

Me: “I really don’t think I have hepatitis.”

Doctor: “But you’re not a doctor.”

(She takes another look at me.)

Doctor: “And look at all those earrings! Oh, dear, you NEED to get tested for hepatitis. You have the symptoms and you have that tattoo and those piercings. I’ll write the order for you. You can go down the hall to the lab, and then we’ll go from there.”

Me: “Look, I really don’t appreciate the assumptions you’re making about me and about everybody with tattoos. I didn’t get this in some guy’s basement and the artist used sterile needles. I’ve been here many times since getting the tattoo and nobody has ever thought there was a problem until now. I REALLY don’t think I have hepatitis. I think I just have the flu.”

Doctor: “Here you go. Now, the lab is down the hall on the left…”

(Since the office was busy, I couldn’t get another doctor. I ended up submitting to the test, and feeling even CRAPPIER after they took several vials of blood. Surprise, surprise, I tested negative for Hep A, Hep B, and Hep C. In another surprise twist, it turned out that I did indeed have the flu!)

(I work on the IT department of a medium-sized company. Sometimes we have issues that require me to log on to a computer, using my admin account, to reinstall software. I have an incident in which I’m certain this is needed, but the user is still logged on. I call him to ask him when he can log off.)

Me: “Good morning. This is [My Name]. I would like to fix the incident you reported but I need you to log off for about 20 minutes. When can I do this?”

User: “I don’t have time to log off for 20 minutes!”

Me: “Ah, I see. Can you log off when you leave to go home so I can do it tomorrow morning?”

User: “That means I have to re-log on tomorrow morning. That takes too long.”

Me: “During your break, then?”

User: “So I have to re-log on after my lunch? No, it takes too long to re-log on. Why can’t you just fix my issue?”

Me: “I might be able to give you a new PC, but that would probably take a few days since I have no computers in stock and have to wait till one comes back.”

User: “If you give me a new PC I will lose all my settings. That will take too long.”

Me: “Well, I have tried everything in my power and cannot help you. I will close the ticket.”

User: “HUH? Why would you close the ticket? I still have the issue!”

(I work in retail, and our store’s policy on employee discounts is quite similar to most other retailers’ policies: employees are entitled to a discount on any non-sale item, and such transactions are only allowed once a week. Any large purchases, such as that exceeding $250, must be approved by a district manager. One day, my coworker walks up to my register, with a rather hefty cartload of merchandise.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name]. Could you page [Manager] for me? I’ve got some shopping to do today.”

Me: “Gee, I don’t know if I can. Didn’t you come in yesterday and buy a whole bunch of stuff? We’re only allowed to do this once a week.”

Coworker: “No, it’s all right. I already talked to [Manager] about this and he said it’s okay.”

Me: “Well, if he says so.”

(I page for our manager, and he comes over to manually override the register prompt, which has blocked further sales for my coworker’s ID. After I had scanned every single item.)

Me: “All right, your total comes to… $463.02?! Hold on a sec, [Manager]. Are you sure this is okay? This is her second purchase this week, and this amount normally requires a DM approval! Not only that, but some of these items are on the flyer. I thought we weren’t allowed to buy those until after the sale ends?”

Manager: “[My Name], you’ve done a great job memorizing our policies, and as your boss, I am pleased by that and I appreciate it.”

Me: “Then why are we breaking the rules anyway?”

Manager: “Did you see the f***in’ truck that came in this morning? It did a number on our stockroom, and frankly, some rules will have to be broken to free up some space for the next truck. [Coworker] is doing us a godd*** favor by emptying us out like this!”

(Later in the day, I did take a look inside the back stockroom, and my manager was right: there indeed was a ridiculous amount of merchandise. To this day, our store is still very lenient with employee discounts!)

(I’m 17. I live in the suburbs and work in the city during my summer holiday from school. This particular day however, is my day off. I get wakened by my scary manager calling.)

Manager: *quite angrily* “Where are you? You were supposed to be here 15 minutes ago!”

Me: “But I’m not supposed to be working today.”

Manager: “Yes, you are!”

Me: “Well, no. I’m sure I checked and—”

Manager: “You are working today. You have to come in. We need you.”

Me: “Okay. I’m so sorry. I was sure I checked the schedule. I can’t believe I missed it. It will take me and hour to get into the city though, but I’ll hurry.”

Manager: “What? An hour? We can’t wait that long, you’ll have to take a taxi.”

Me: “I can’t afford that! I have to take the train, but I will get there as soon as I can.”

(One hour later I run into the restaurant and up to my manager.)

Me: “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I—”

Manager: “Well, turns out you were right. You’re not supposed to work today. But since you’re here, could you stay for a few hours? We really need you and you can eat for free.”

(I stayed. I’m way too nice.)

(I am in the process of applying for a mortgage. While they take the paperwork away to process it, they send in the insurance advisor, who tells me about the types of cover available – death and serious illness. The premiums for the latter are considerably more, and I ask about this.)

Advisor: “Oh, well, you are three times more likely to get sick than you are to die.”

Me: “That would be tricky.”

Advisor: “Why?”

Me: “Well, I am 100% likely to die, so I can’t be three times more likely than that to get sick.”

Advisor: “Oh. I never thought of that…”