My significant other and I were doing some shopping and decided to eat at a chain restaurant. It’s ‘reasonable’ food at the cheaper end of the scale, and okay when you’re not looking for a posh dining experience or anything.

There was a daytime ‘soft drink, salad bar buffet, main course, and dessert’ offer, which came to £30 for two people. A bargain, which we ordered.

The food turned out to be pretty good; we made more than one trip to the buffet and suffice to say by the time we’d finished our main courses we didn’t feel we needed the dessert (the only dessert with the meal deal was ice cream, so not something we could have boxed up and carried out for later), so I instead asked the server for the bill.

The bill arrives, and we have been charged an additional £9, for £39 in total. I query this with the server.

Server: “That offer is only valid with desserts, and you said you didn’t want desserts anymore.”

Me: “We intended to have the desserts, but we’re too full for them now, so we don’t want them, but I didn’t expect we would be charged more?”

Server: “Well, you’ve not ordered the offer anymore, so there’s nothing we can do.”

Me: “Well then, I’d like to order two desserts, please. You can bring them over, we won’t eat them, and you can get the £9 knocked off the bill for us?”

At this point, the server looks at me with a bewildered look and says she’ll get the manager. My other half, who is more of a shrinking violet in these situations, is looking a little uncomfortable.

A few moments later, the manager comes over and asks why we don’t want to pay! I explain that I do, but I don’t expect to pay MORE for saving waste, but by all means, to bring over the desserts, and we will leave them there on the table when we leave.

Comprehending this, she agrees to just charge us for the meal deal.

A customer wanders over to me in the produce department holding a pack of kiwis.

Customer: “Do you sell these but, like, not hairy? The hair is gross.”

Me: “Uh, no. I’m afraid we only sell those as nature intended.”

Customer: “It’s just, I like the flavor, but the hairy skin is just so gross. Don’t you sell shaved kiwis?”

Me: “We sell gold kiwifruit. I think that might be what you’re looking for.”

Customer: “I saw those, but they’re twice the price.”

Me: “I’m afraid those are your only options.”

Customer: “There’s nothing you can do?”

Me: “I can’t discount the gold kiwi.”

Customer: “No, I mean, can’t you shave the regular kiwi?”

Me: “That… uh… isn’t a service that we currently provide.”

Customer: “That is sooooo disappointing. I’ll let a manager know that I was very disappointed by the lack of service I received today.”

Based on the loud laugh I heard from a manager recounting a tale of a strange customer later that day in the break room, I guess the customer found one…

The following account has been abridged considerably to make sure it doesn’t take an hour to read: A couple walks in and says they’re interested in getting a mortgage.

Me: “Wonderful. Do you currently bank with us?”

Husband: “No.”

Me: “Okay, well, we can still proceed as long as you have your financial documents. Do you know the value of the property?”

Husband: “About a million dollars.”

Me: “Okay.”

Wife: “We found this amazing house online.”

Me: “Great. Let’s go through some basics.”

We sit down, and I take some personal information, and then ask:

Me: “What kind of downpayment do you have available?”

Husband: “None.”

Me: “None?”

Wife: “We were hoping to finance the whole thing.”

Me: “All right… And your annual household income?”

Wife: “We’re between jobs.”

Me: “Both of you?”

Husband: “Yes.”

Me: “Do either of you have another source of income?”

Wife: “Not really.”

Me: “Savings?”

Husband: “No.”

Me: “Investments?”

Wife: “No.”

Me: “Assets?”

Crickets.

Me: “So you’re looking to borrow one million dollars with no income, no savings, and no down payment.”

Husband: “Yeah.”

Me: “I’m afraid that’s not going to qualify.”

Wife: “What if we started small?”

Me: “Small?”

Husband: “Like fifty bucks a month or something.”

Me: “For a million-dollar mortgage?”

Husband: “Yeah.”

Me: “At fifty dollars a month, your grandchildren would still be making payments.”

Wife: “We can make a family when we’re in the house, and then the kids can take over!”

Me: “I’m not sure that’s how lending works.”

Husband: “Also, can we skip December payments?”

Me: “December?”

Wife: “Well, Christmas and all. Money gets tight.”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re concerned about future holiday expenses on a loan you don’t qualify for today?”

Husband: “I mean, we’re good for fifty a month! And we’d call you with notice if we couldn’t pay it that month.”

Me: “Let me get this straight. You’d like us to lend you a million dollars, despite having no income, no savings, no down payment, payments of fifty dollars a month, and an annual vacation from paying altogether? And you’re telling me there’s a risk you might miss or be late for other payments?”

Husband: “Why are you trying to make it sound unreasonable?”

Me: “I’m really not trying.”

I gave them a basic guide on how mortgages work and explained the kind of numbers required for a million-dollar house. Their eyes bulged at the figures, and they demanded to know how people are supposed to make that kind of money. I told them I don’t even make half that kind of money, but please write to their local political representative about affordable housing supply, state minimum wage, and all the other issues making it impossible for people to own a house these days…

I appreciated the situation they were in, but did they really think it was going to be THAT easy?

Recently, I applied for a new role in my organisation, and asked a senior in my branch for help preparing for the interviews. I figured she’s in the coveted “technical specialist of equal rank to full director” role, so she must have lots of good tips, right?

I figured I’d get maybe thirty minutes of her time. Maybe a practice interview and feedback.

Instead, I got a full workday.

My senior sat down with me. She went over the candidate kit with me. She made me highlight all sorts of key phrases and asked me what I thought that meant. She was all but fully quizzing me on my interpretation of the kit.

She made me look at the capability framework for our organisation, and went over performance indicators for each level and role with me. 

She made me come up with an example of work that demonstrated each requirement in the capability framework and the candidate kit. She made me justify why I thought that demonstrated the skill.

Then she made me interview with her. 

I aced the real interview. Every question in the real interview was one I’d practiced with her. I got the position. She was very happy for me.

And then:

Me: “I’m really grateful for your help. I don’t think I’ve ever prepared that hard for an interview in my life. You really do this every time?”

Senior: “Oh no, I never practice. I just go into the interview and wing it.”

I’m a lifeguard at a community pool. I see a mother bring her five-year-old son to the pool and then start to walk away.

Me: “Ma’am! Please stay with your son.”

Mother: “I can’t, I have an appointment. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Me: “You can’t leave your son unattended in the pool, ma’am!”

Mother: “I’m not leaving him unattended! I’m leaving him with you.”

Me: “I’m a lifeguard, ma’am, not a babysitter.”

Mother: “Exactly, if he gets into trouble, I have faith that you’ll jump in to save him.”

Me: “Ma’am, you’re required to remain with your children and supervise them so that they don’t get into trouble in the first place.”

Mother: “Ugh! That’s ridiculous! Then what’s the point of you being here if I’m doing your job for you?”

Me: “Ma’am, do you actively try to set a building on fire with the justification that the building has fire extinguishers?”

Mother: “That’s stupid!”

Me: “Exactly. I’m here in case something goes wrong. You’re here to help make sure it doesn’t. ‘Rescuing drowning children’ is supposed to be Plan B. Either you both stay or you both leave.”

She’s fuming at me, but she takes her son by the hand and starts dragging him back to the changing rooms. The poor boy is now very upset.

Mother: *To her son.* “Don’t cry at me! Blame the nasty man for refusing to save you if you drowned!”