Dorm resident: “Hi. What’s the policy on moving out? When do we have to be out by?”

Me: “Saturday morning by 10 AM, at the latest. We’d really prefer if you could make arrangements to be out sooner, though.”

Dorm resident: “Well…what about later than that?”

Me: “I’m sorry, that’s not possible. We’re starting a rather large remodeling project that’s on a very tight schedule. They need to get started that morning. If you are here past 10, you’ll be charged the improper checkout fee.”

Dorm resident: “So…what about, like, 10:30?”

Me: “Uhh…that’s later than 10, isn’t it? If you want to get very technical about it, you’d be guilty of trespassing at that point, and the police would be helping you move out.”

(For the record, that’s not entirely true, but we’ve been encouraged to say that to convince the little darlings to get out.)

Dorm resident: “Well, that’s just not fair! What if it’s an emergency?”

Me: “You’re planning to have an emergency over a week in advance?”

Dorm resident: “F**k you.”

(During a heated debate in my Sociology class about the pros and cons of immigration, the discussion turned to illegal immigration.)

Student: “I pay my taxes. If I have to pay sales tax, I think they should too!”

(I work at a place that provides kayaks, hiking/climbing gear, canoes, and inner tubes for students at our university.)

Young Woman: “Hi, I need deodorant and a tampon.”

Me: “Um, we don’t have those here.”

Young Woman: “What do you mean?”

Me: “This is the Outdoor Center. We provide outdoor recreational equipment for students.”

Young Woman: “Well I’m a student, I’m outside, and I need deodorant and a tampon!”

(About this time my co worker looks up with a look on her face of WTF?!)

Me: “Yeah…those don’t come with kayaks or canoes.”

Young Woman: “They should!”

(I walk off to let my female coworker take over this one.)

(For three years, my job was to deal with angry parents. I was very good at it. Most of the time.)

Parent: *angrily* “I need to speak to someone about my daughter’s roommates!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”

Parent: “Her roommates are awful to her! ”

Me: “Okay. Can you detail the problems for me? The more specific you can be, the better we can help your daughter and her roommates settle their problems.”

Parent: “They curse, and they play loud music, and they’re, well, they’re just not *like* us.”

Me: “In what way are they not *like* you, ma’am?”

Parent: “Well, they’re…farm people.”

(Twenty seconds of absolute silence as I am, for once, thrown off my game. I’ve heard racial B.S. and religious B.S., but never *farm* B.S.)

Parent: “Not that there’s anything wrong with farm people. It’s just that we’re not farm people.”

(I’m still in shock. She keeps going.)

Parent: I mean, farms are useful, but we’re from the city. My daughter grew up going to the theater and to museums.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you, as a kid from a farm myself, I’ve been to the theater and to museums. What we probably have here is a personality clash.”

(There’s about a 10 second pause that just drips with uncomfortable.)

Parent: “Perhaps I should speak to someone else.”

Caller: “Hi, I lost my cellphone this weekend. I was wondering if you’d found it?”

Me: “Well, maybe. What does it look like?”

Caller: “It’s a black Nokia; orange on the sides.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but your phone is not here.”

Caller: “Oh. Well…can I come by and just, like, take another one?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “Well, you know, since I’ve lost my phone and all, and it’s not like the phones you have is anyone’s property…”

Me: “Ehm…well..how would you feel if I gave your phone away to someone else?”

Caller: *silence* “Well that would be kinda rude.”

Me: “Yes.”

Caller: *more silence* *click*

(I was in our technology support office when a housekeeping staff person, Donna, stopped by. There was no preamble to the dialog below.)

Donna: “Dr. Franklin gets e-mail in his office.”

Me: *nods*

Donna: “Alicia says she can check her e-mail in the office.”

Me: *nods*

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: “Nice.”

Donna: “Nice?”

Me: “Not nice?”

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: “I like e-mail, too.”

Donna: “You don’t have it?”

Me: “I do.”

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: *biting lower lip, uncertain what to say or do*

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: *glancing at the clock on the wall*

Donna: “I like to have e-mail.”

Me: “I like having e-mail, too, and I check it all the time.”

Donna: “Can I have it? I like to have e-mail.”

Related:
The Art Of Ambiguity

(Girl walks up to the desk looking around, confused. It is Ash Wednesday, and I work at a Catholic university.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Girl: “Yes, can I ask you a question?”

Me: “Sure.”

Girl: “Why does everyone have crosses on their foreheads?”

Me: “…it’s Ash Wednesday.”

Girl: “Oh. I thought they were part of a cult or something.”

(There is an ID check to enter the lab and to print.)

Me: “Hi, can I see your ID please?”

Guy: “No, I don’t need ID to come in here.”

Me: “Yes, at this lab it is required.”

Guy: “But I don’t need an ID to come in!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I really need your ID or I can’t let you come into the lab.”

Guy: “Oh I need ID to come in? Why didn’t you just ask me for it?!”

Me: *headdesk*

Related:
Zero Short Term Memory
Short Term Memory Is For The Weak

(I work tech support for a university, and our help desk supports faculty/staff only. On this day, a student walks in.)

Student: “I’m here to turn in my paper.”

Me: “I’m sorry, this is the *** Faculty Help Desk, we don’t deal with student assignments.”

Student: “But I don’t know where to turn it in. Can’t you just turn it in for me?”

Me: “No, if you don’t know where to turn it in, I would certainly not have a clue.”

Student: “But can’t you just take it?”

Me: “No. If you’re really that confused, contact your professor or go to the department office. I’m sure they can help you.”

Student: “But can’t you just take it?”

Me: *blinks in disbelief* “Um…”

Student: “Please, take it!”

Me: “Ok.”

(I proceed to take it and place it in the recycle bin in front of her.)

Student: “Thank you so much!”

Me: “Good afternoon, AV Services, how can I help you?”

Very Angry Caller: “Yeah, I just flew in on Flight *** from Cleveland, and you lost my luggage.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but you have the wrong number. This is the University of ***.”

Very Angry Caller: “No it’s not! You’re just saying that!”

Me: “No, really, sir. Our phone number is very close to the airport’s number.”

Very Angry Caller: “LISTEN! YOU LOST MY &^#% LUGGAGE! YOU NEED TO FIND IT!”

Me: “Sir, I don’t have your luggage.”

Very Angry Caller: “STOP F^&%* LYING! I WANT TO TALK TO YOUR SUPERVISOR!”

Me: “My supervisor is Mr. ***. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have your luggage either. We could probably get you a DVD player or a slide projector.”

(Very Angry Caller starts cussing randomly. I hang up.)