Fact: Working in a customer service position that necessitates long-term exposure to one’s fellow humans carries a significant risk of developing acute, potentially incurable, misanthropy. And if you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, treatment is especially hard to find.

Exhibit a) From a roadside store in “the armpit of California, as witnessed on separate occasions by both Dirk and Danielle

Exhibit b) From a NON-fast food restaurant in the backwaters of Louisiana

Exhibit c) From a diner in a speck of a town called Endicott, Nebraska. (Adds submitter Jill: “They also have a stuffed two-headed calf!”)

related: How’s that for a low price guarantee?

Elana in North Rustico, Canada spotted this tart exchange inside her friend Shannon’s fridge.

Shannon, no doubt hoping to avoid getting called out for interfering with her roommate’s yogurt supply, wrote the first note. Her roommate Michael, perhaps taking issue with the note’s mildly patronizing tone, fired back with his own written retort. And as for the yogurts? Yup, still in the fridge.

related: Who’s the smartass?

While sorting through some old papers, Christina in Natick, Massachusetts was about to throw away this childhood note she had written to her Mom (and Dad too!), when her husband, Aaron, intervened. (Apparently no amount of coaxing could tease out exactly what horrible sin Paul committed, so feel free to speculate wildly.)

P.S. Hope you enjoyed it, you know.

related: Be sure to say goodbye forever

When Sal spotted this notice at an athletic clothing store in San Diego, he says that while he couldn’t quite picture how a tissue would get the job done in this situation — not to mention how this policy came to be —  “I figured it was best not to ask questions.”

Meanwhile, when I first read this sign — from a club in Vancouver — my first thought was, “Well, that seems like a reasonable enough request.” Our submitter, Cherisse, begs to differ. “Sadly, there is no bathroom backstage,” she explains, ” wnd when a girl’s gotta go, sometimes the other end of the club is a long ways a way.” She adds: “If it wasn’t for the used paper towels being left outside, no one ever would have known.”

So… like Sal, I’m gonna say it’s probably best not to ask too many questions about this one.

related: “Who leaves their panties in the bathroom at work?  Who does that?”

Our anonymous submitter in Rhode Island has the distinct privilege of working with a person “who writes policy like it’s a new religion.” On her orders, the IT department instituted a program that automatically locks down your computer after two minutes of activity, but apparently that wasn’t enough to satisfy this self-appointed office cop.

One day, after dashing over to pick up a document from the shared printer, our submitter returned to find this somewhat clumsy attempt at an object lesson. (From then on, our submitter vowed, she would never play so fast and loose with her computer’s font settings again.)

related: Paying through the spout

Writes Natalie in Pennsylvania: “My mother (who is unfortunately on Facebook) noticed that some of my extended family had wished my twin sister happy birthday but not me.”

Although Natalie herself couldn’t care less, her mother — “a master of both e-mail networking and Jewish guilt”—  took it upon herself to write this e-mail and send it out everyone in the entire family. “And I mean EVERYONE,” Natalie says — “my cousins in Mexico got it!” [Face palm]

(If you can’t decipher the hideous font, mouse over the image for a translation.)

(What would Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield do? Find out in Sweet Valley High #144: Relative Intentions!)

related: Yet another reason why you shouldn’t be friends with your parents on Facebook

Courtney in Missouri was perusing the silent auction items at a political fundraiser she was attending when she noticed the bit sheet for a gift basket called “Pamper Yourself or Someone You Love.”  Although the basket was valued at $235 (the full amount, of which, of course, was going to the fundraiser) no one seemed to have the temerity to outbid the $100 bidder. I wonder why?

When she stopped back just before the end of the auction, Courtney says, “my repeated taking of pictures of the bidding sheet seem to have led the person in question to raise their bid to $125…without any reference to possibly terminal illnesses.”

Perhaps Carol rethought her “charitable” decision to gift the basket to someone with cancer. (Chemo-induced vomiting is bad enough, but foisting Eat, Pray, Love on someone? Now that’s just cruel.)

related: Playing the Holocaust card

Who knew? If you’re in the market for cemetery plots at bargain-basement prices, apparently the go-to place is…the women’s locker room at the gym. At least that’s where our submitter in East Lansing, Michigan spotted this notice (which was clearly not penned by Hemingway).

Happy “WTF?” Friday, everyone!

related: Please, No Breast Cancer trash!