I am working with a coworker, and we’re both experiencing a couple of blessed minutes of downtime. We’re both big anime fans, so we’re chatting about the recent episodes of a show we’re both watching, “Attack On Titan”. The show is known for being quite intense and putting its characters through a lot.

Me: “Can you believe everything that they’ve been putting up with this season?”

Coworker: “I know! I keep saying, ‘We just can’t catch a break!'”

As we’re talking, an older customer is walking past and is glaring at us.

Customer: “That’s the problem with your generation! Always complaining about how hard you’ve got it! You always need little breaks! I don’t know what you think you’ve got to complain about, but back in my day, we just got on with it and didn’t expect a pat on the back for the privilege.”

Coworker: “Oh, sir, we weren’t complaining about our jobs. We’re just talking about a show we watch where the characters have to endure a lot, and we were feeling sorry for them.”

Customer: “Let me guess. They’re struggling because they have to work a full eight hours and they’ve run out of mental health days?” 

Coworker: “No, they have to fight man-eating giants who have just consumed all their friends and family in increasingly violent and disturbing ways.”

Customer: “Hmph! Sounds stupid! Back in my day, shows were about real things! Starsky & Hutch! Hawaii Five-O! And the real one, not that new one where everyone is Asian!”

Me: “Sir, did you need help with anything in the store?”

Customer: “No! I can do it myself! You should all just stop moaning!”

Coworker: “We will… try, sir.”

And off he went, looking for new things to grumble about.

My family is on a long car ride when my husband’s phone rings and he answers it. After a few minutes of conversation, he tells the man to hold on, places the phone face down on his seat, and returns to his earlier conversation from before the call. Everyone in the family knows by now that this means he believes the person on the phone is a scammer, and he plans to intentionally waste their time, so we don’t think anything about it.

A little while later…

Husband: “Wait, do you hear that?”

Me: “It’s the person on the phone.”

Husband: “He hasn’t hung up yet?! Man, if I wasn’t driving, I’d start messing with anyone that persistent.”

Me: “Allow me.”

He hands me the phone. I listen in for a while until the man sounds like he is about ready to hang up before I speak up.

Me: “Hello! Anyone there?”

Scammer: “Umm, yes, hello. Is this [Husband]?”

Me: “That’s my husband.”

Scammer: “Oh, well, I was calling from the IRS about some back taxes he owes. He was going to go get his Social Security number for me. I don’t suppose you know it?”

Me: “Oh, did my husband leave you waiting all this time?”

Scammer: “Yes, it was a bit of a wait. We’re very busy this time of the year, so I’d like to verify that information so I can help sort this out quickly before it’s too late.”

Me: “I’m sorry about my husband. You see, English isn’t his first language, and he sometimes has trouble understanding people on the phone.”

Scammer: “Oh, that’s fine. I understand. I just needed to get—”

Me: “Yeah, honestly, my husband, he… Well, he’s not that bright. He always tends to forget what he is doing and zone out, staring at nothing. He’s a bit special, really. Not sure why I married the oaf.”

My husband has ADD, so he actually does have a slight tendency to forget what he is doing and stare off in the distance when hyperfocused. It’s not a big problem, but the family isn’t above some good-natured jokes at his expense for this. My kids are snickering at the description of their father, and my husband is just grinning.

Scammer: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But I was trying to get his Social Security number so I could help sort out these back taxes. Would you happen to know it?”

Me: “Oh, you want his number?”

Scammer: “Yes please.”

Me: “It’s [phone number he just called].”

Scammer: “That sounds like a phone number. I was actually looking for his Social Security number. It’s a nine-digit number, maybe broken up into three smaller numbers split by dashes.”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m not good with numbers. Give me a second here.”

I take a second to think up a proper bogus number — and just to stall the guy a bit more. I make sure to sound very confused but sincere when I go back to the phone.

Me: “Umm, I don’t know, but is it 666-42-1337?

I figure he will pick up on at least one of those numbers being clearly bogus, but the man seems to be satisfied with it at first. I assume he runs it through something that spits back that it is invalid because, eventually, he comes back.

Scammer: “I don’t think that is right, ma’am. Could you double-check that number, please?”

Me: “Oh, these numbers are too confusing. Let me get someone who can help me.”

I mute him.

Me: “How often do you think we could pass him back and forth between the two of us before he realizes he’s not making any progress?

Son: “Oh, no, wait! I want to try! Can I talk to him next?”

Me: “Sure, why not? But I’d make him wait a bit longer before picking up. The more of his time we waste, the less time he can dedicate to scamming decent folks.”

I pass the phone back to my son, who unmutes it after waiting a minute or two. There is some dead time after he says each line where the scammer is presumably responding.

I should mention that my son is in middle school and has had two years of Spanish class, which is a far cry from being an expert in Spanish.

Son: “Hola. Mi nombre es Pedro. ¿Cómo estás? ¿hHablas español?” (Hello. My name is Pedro. How are you? Do you speak Spanish?)

Son: “¿Mi madre dice tu necesito un número?” (My mom says you need a number.)

Son: “No sé.” (I don’t know.)

Son: “Me duele mi cabeza. ¿Dónde está el baño? Tengo un gato en mi sombrero.” (My head hurts. Where is the bathroom? I have a cat in my hat.)

Apparently, my son is at the limit of his ability to say things that sound vaguely Spanish.

Son: “Si. Un momento.”

He mutes the phone.

Son: “Yeah, that’s all the Spanish I know. Mom, do you want him back?”

I take the phone back.

Me: “Great! Did you get everything you needed, then?”

Scammer: “I’m sorry, but whoever I was speaking to only knew Spanish.”

Me: “Oh, you can’t speak Spanish? You should have told me.”

Scammer: “Look, ma’am, all I need is your husband’s Social Security number, or yours if you don’t know his.”

Me: “Oh, no, I don’t have a Social.”

Scammer: “Every US citizen should have one.”

Me: “Well, yes, but you see, about that… It’s just that, umm… Wait. You don’t work for the FBI, do you?”

Scammer: “Ma’am, if you are not taking this seriously, I’ll hang up and let you deal with thousands of dollars in back taxes you owe on your own. Now, for the last time, all I need is a Social Security number for one of the residents in your household.”

Me: “Oh, no, no! Please don’t do that! I’m sorry. Look, I’ll go get it right now. Just one second, please!”

I mute him again.

Me: “I think he is finally on to us. Don’t think he’s going to last much longer.”

Daughter: “No, wait! I haven’t gotten my turn with him yet! Here, let me have some fun before he goes!”

I hand the phone back to my daughter. She has always been told she sounds young for her age. She plays this aspect up to the point that she sounds like a little kid.

Daughter: “Hello, how are you?”

Daughter: “I found the phone. Want to talk about My Little Pony?!”

Daughter: “Oh, no, my father’s not here. He got put in jail for bad driving and punching the police. Mama says it’s because he’s always thirsty, but I don’t know why that would make him want to punch someone.” 

Daughter: “No, they took me away from my mama because she kept bringing men that paid to be her boyfriends back to our house and making so much noise with them that I couldn’t sleep. Now I have to stay with some people until my mama learns to love me right.”

Daughter: “Oh, sure, I can get him!”

My daughter now holds the phone up to my nephew, who we are currently babysitting. He is a year old.

Daughter: “Say hi, [Nephew]!”

Nephew: “Hi! Hi! [Excited babbling]!”

At some point, the scammer gave up on us before we got the phone back from my nephew.

Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted that long. It’s so nice to bond with your family over small things, like trolling scammers.

I’m at a large bulk store with my mother-in-law, and we’re looking for clothes for my kids. We can’t find something we want in the right size, so we ask one of the employees if there’s anywhere else it could be.

Employee: “There’s another table up by the entrance, but if it’s not there, we don’t have it. I’m sorry.”

Me: “I already checked there, thank you. And it’s not like you’re purposefully hiding it from me.”

There’s a look of sheer and utter gratitude as she responds:

Employee: “Yes! Thank you!”

Her demeanor change made me really sad for the state of our service industry. I worked retail for years, so I get it.

I work in an office building owned by a moderately sized tech company. In our employee café, we have two vending machines that have some operational issues. The machine doesn’t seem capable of doing math properly and will commonly say you have “Insufficient Credits” after buying a single $1.00 drink, even though you are pre-authorized for $5 when you swipe your card. This makes it rather hard to get more than one drink if you are trying to get something for yourself and your coworkers.

One day, I walk in just in time to witness [Employee #1] at the vending machine.

Employee #1: “NEIL DEGRASSE TYSON!”

She slams her forehead into the machine, I assume not knowing how thick the glass is. This causes her to fall backward. She ends up hitting a low bench and falling backward over it, taking out the bench, several potted plants, a rather large Christmas decoration, and one of the table-and-chair sets. She sighs, lying in the results of the chaos, and I walk up. 

Me: “Are you using the machine?”

Employee #1: “Oh, no. Please, go ahead.”

Me: “Do you need help?”

Employee #1: “I’m good down here.”

Me: “Do you need… mental help?”

Employee #1: “Don’t we all?”

Me: “What did the machine do to you?”

Employee #1: “I swiped for $5 and got one bottle of water. Then, it said I had insufficient credits to get another one. Then, I swiped again, and it went into cash-only mode, so I put a dollar in it, but apparently, when you use cash, there’s a fifty-cent upcharge. And then, it wouldn’t give me my dollar back.”

Me: “Ah.”

Employee #1: “Yeah.”

Me: “How has the rest of your day been? Been okay?”

Employee #1: “Absolute bulls***.”

She proceeds to tell me about her day, project deadlines, a manager who needs a foot up his a**, bad clients, and unhelpful IT representatives, as we clean up the mess she made and I evaluate her for injuries. 

Apparently, her manager has been overloading her. Every time someone can’t finish something or he doesn’t trust them to do it, he forces it on her with no extension of deadlines and no increase in compensation. As a result, her work quality and speed have obviously dropped, and that same manager is now threatening to demote her, fire her, or cut her pay.

She says she demanded that everyone take back their work and that the load be redistributed, but the manager replied, “That’s not within the goals of the department,” and, “Your coworkers are comfortable where they are; it would be unfair to increase their workloads.” She says it’s possible that he is playing favorites, and when she called him out on it, he threatened to fire her again. 

Somewhere around the end of her story, another employee comes in and goes to the vending machine. 

Employee #2: “Hey! Free dollar!”

He takes a dollar out of the bill accepter. We have no idea when it was dispensed. 

Me: “Oh, that’s hers!” *Gesturing to [Employee #1]*

Employee #2: “Finders keepers!” *Laughs*

Employee #1: “Is that what [Secretary] said when she stole you from your wife?”

There is dead silence in the room. [Employee #2] is very much still happily married. He silently returns the dollar to [Employee #1] and leaves the room without even buying his drink. 

Me: “Who the h*** was that?”

Employee #1: “That was my manager.”

Me: “Oh. Oh, no.”

Employee #1: “God, that felt good. I’m going to go up there and quit. F*** this place.”

I have no idea what happened when [Employee #1] went upstairs, but she didn’t quit. Rumor has it that she went up to her office, decided, “F*** it,” and phoned the owner of the company. He was shocked to learn about her gripes.

The owner then went to [Employee #1]’s manager’s manager, and they looked into everything together. Whatever they found triggered an investigation that spread throughout the company and led to a restructuring.

[Employee #1] is now in her previous manager’s position, and ever since her promotion, the second-floor employees have all been much happier. The owner of the company is now also around more, switching from a nearly pure work-from-home schedule to being in the building four out of his five working days. 

The vending machines are still there, though. 

I never got to ask [Employee #1] why she shouted, “Neil deGrasse Tyson!” before headbutting the machine, but I have a meeting with her soon, so maybe it will come up.

I recently stayed at a hotel, where conference organisers had booked me into a wheelchair-accessible room. It was round the back of the building down a lane-wide ramp with no sides, handrails, or lighting. Even in a wheelchair, I wouldn’t have been able to get to or from it unless someone was there to push me.

The hotel’s answer was that there was a dedicated disabled parking bay nearby so I could just drive to the front of the building, hope to find suitable parking, and walk across the busy carpark every time I wanted to go to breakfast, reception, the coffee shop, meetings or anywhere.

When I pointed out I didn’t have a car and would need to call a taxi each way to take me from my room to reception and back, I got the obligatory “deer in the headlights” look.

It’s not really the hotel’s fault. Despite it being completely unsuitable for me, who can walk (sort of) and would be on my own without a car most of the time, I believe the room was quite spacious and well-equipped.

The requirement I had asked for was accessible washing and toilet facilities, so I ended up with a smaller and more basic (but still accessible) room, but at least I could make my own way around.

They were also good enough to provide a proper ergonomic computer chair so I could sit in my room and work.

Watching the cogs whirring was fun; I don’t think it had ever occurred to the managers that without a car, or at the very least a fairly meaty powered chair, there was no safe way to go to and from their premium “accessible” rooms.