Reading this story made me think of when I was in medical school. There was an array of cubby holes for coffee mugs labeled with our names just outside the lecture hall. I rarely drank coffee but occasionally would drink hot chocolate. Nearly every time I looked for my mug, it was missing. I’d find it in one of the labs with cigarette butts in it. (This was more than forty years ago.)

I solved the problem by photocopying a card I was given when I was returning from serving in the Peace Corps. It was intended to help treating physicians if I turned up ill at a clinic or emergency room in the US. I laminated the photocopy to my mug.

Card: “[My Name] served in [Country] in West Africa from 1975 to 1977 and may have been exposed to the following diseases.”

It listed about twenty tropical diseases. Below the copy of the card I wrote, “Use at your own risk.” No one ever swiped my mug again.

Related:
A Steaming Cup Of Karma

A friend texted me.

Friend: “Which is more, $9 or 5%?”

Me: “5% of what?”

Friend: “Money. 5% is less, right?”

I eventually got him to explain that he was making an online payment of $1,200, and the website charged a 5% fee if you used a credit card, or you could use a debit card for a fixed fee of $9.

He had been saying that 5% was obviously smaller, but his wife thought $9 was less.

He wasn’t happy with my answer.

Customer: “What do you have on your menu that’s gluten-free?”

I go through with her what we have. She ends up ordering a burger, and we do offer gluten-free buns for an extra charge, so she goes with that. Unfortunately, we must have JUST sold our last gluten-free bun.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’ve sold our last gluten-free bun.”

Customer: “I’ll get the pretzel bun instead.”

Me: “I need to inform you that the pretzel bun does, in fact, contain gluten.”

Customer: “No worries, I can handle a bit a day.”

I come out with the food for the lady, and she seems to enjoy her meal. After she’s finished, I notice that she just took the bun off and ate the rest.

Me: “Was the bun okay?”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, I just changed my mind and didn’t want to eat the bun.”

She gets her bill, and upon receiving it, she makes a face.

Customer: “I was hoping you would discount my bill because I didn’t eat the bun — you know, since I couldn’t eat it because it contains gluten.”

Me: “Oh, but ma’am, I told you beforehand that it contained gluten, and you said that was fine, so no, I cannot discount your bill.”

Customer: “…Fine.”

She paid while whispering just under her breath about how inconsiderate I was. And of course, she didn’t even tip.

I started a new medication today. I brought the prescription to the pharmacy and left, waiting until I received the text message notification that it was ready to pick up. The notification comes from an automated system that identifies prescriptions by the first four letters of the medication name.

So, I was cry-laughing at work when the text came in:

Text: “Your prescription starting with ‘METH’ is ready for pickup at [Pharmacy].”

CONTENT WARNING: Dark Humor

I have a five-foot-zero coworker. She is obviously pregnant, but this seems to make customers think they can just waltz up to her and place their hands on her belly.

She’s scolded the customers about this, who have in turn complained to managers, who have in turn told her to just deal with it. 

Coworker: “Fine… I will deal with it.”

One shift, I notice this exchange. A customer once again touches [Coworker]’s belly. 

Customer: “Oh, congratulations!”

Coworker: *Backing away* “Please don’t touch me.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m a mother, so it’s okay. How far along are you?”

Coworker: *Holding her belly* “This is a tumor.” 

Customer: *Horrified* “Oh… I… Oh…”

Coworker: “Are you asking how long I have left? About six months.”

Customer: *Possibly traumatized, tearing up, backing away* “I… I’m so sorry, I…”

The customer rushes out of the store.

Me: *Trying not to laugh* “I think you just traumatized that woman.”

Coworker: “Maybe next time she’ll think twice before walking up to a total stranger and placing her uninvited hands on their bodily protrusions!” 

[Coworker] gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. When she brought him into the store for us to coo over, she said to me, “Here’s my little tumor!”