(It’s my second day working for a small shop within a store. As I walk in, my supervisor looks up from some personal work she’s doing on a machine we’re supposed to be selling.)

Supervisor: “Hey [My Name], I’m getting off at five, so you and [Coworker] are going to be closing with her today.”

Me: “Okay, has she closed before? Because I’ve never closed before and I don’t really know what to do.”

Supervisor: “It’s her second day too, but I put my number by the register so you can call me if you need anything.”

Me: “Wait; let me just see if I’m understanding this: you’re putting two people together, both of them on their second day, leaving them alone in the store, and expecting them to close with no experience doing so and with no instruction?”

Supervisor: “Yep!”

(I work at a sandwich & juice bar. Next to fresh made sandwiches, we also sell coffee, pastries and pizzas, which we keep in our wall fridge for customers to grab and bake at request.)

Customer: “I’d like to buy this pizza, please. Could you bake it for me?”

(The customer hands my coworker a wrapped pizza.)

Coworker: “Sure. Let me ring that up for you.”

(My coworker puts pizza in oven, and then stares at register.)

Coworker: “Now, let’s see. Um, [My Name], was that an 11 inch or 30 inch pizza?”

Me: “…Can’t you tell?”

Coworker: “Duh, how should I be able to? It wasn’t on the label.”

(As a funeral rep for a newspaper, I have to call numerous funeral homes to verify death for legal reasons.)

Funeral Home Director: “Thanks for calling [Funeral Home]. Can I assist you?”

Me: “Yes, I’m calling to verify someone’s death. Last name is [Last Name].”

Funeral Home Director: “Oh yeah, they just wheeled her in. I’ll be throwing her in the incinerator in a few minutes. Here’s hoping she’s dead!” *chuckles*

Me: “…”

Me: “Hi, I’m here to pick up my prescription.”

Pharmacist: “What’s the name?”

Me: “[Name], that’s [N-A-M-E].”

Pharmacist: “[N-A-M-E]?”

Me: “Yes.”

Pharmacist: “We don’t have a prescription under that name.”

Me: “Could you look again? It should have been sent over from [School] this morning.”

Pharmacist: *without checking* “We don’t have it.”

Me: “Could you check your computers to see if you got the order?”

Pharmacist: *checks computer* “Oh! Yeah, we got the order. [Medicine] has been backordered for weeks, so no one has it.”

Me: “I see. So, you just didn’t fill the order?”

Pharmacist: “Yeah. We couldn’t.”

Me: “And you didn’t call the number in my file or my doctor to let them know the medication wasn’t available?”

Pharmacist: “We can’t just call EVERY person who orders this! That would take forever!”

Me: “So it’s better that EVERY person who needed that medication should come all the way down here just to hear that their prescription can’t be filled?”

Pharmacist: “Yeah.”

Me: *furious*

(When I was ten, I needed to get shots for school, as my family had a knowledge of my disdain for needles. This day, though, I was feeling brave.)

Nurse: “Would you like the gas, or can I just inject you while you’re awake?”

Me: “I’ll take the needle.”

Nurse & My Mom: “Good job!”

(The nurse takes her first move towards me, and I have my arm as still as I can manage it.)

Nurse: “Alright, just one clean stab and you should be good to—drat, missed the vein. Alright, second try—nope, third time’s the charm? No—how about the fourth time?”

(At this point my arm has become a pin cushion. I start crying aloud, and I cut her off before she can make the fifth attempt. There has been a solid break of about a minute while she repositions each time, and after the first time, which I presume I flinched on, she has been holding my arm rather tightly.)

Me: “Maybe we should switch to the gas?”

Nurse: “Okay. What flavor?”

Me: “Root Beer…”

(I wake up an hour and a half later. I was informed it took 21 attempts for her to get the needle in correctly by my mom!)