(I work in a campus post office for students only. Package slips are put in the boxes and an e-mail is sent to the student’s school e-mail address when they receive a package.)

Me: “Hi, can I help you?”

Student: “Hi, do I have a package?”

Me: “Did you have a package slip in your box? I need that.”

Student: “No, I didn’t get one.”

(I go to the back and check anyway because one of the workers often forgets to put the slips in the boxes during her shift.)

Me: “I’m sorry. I didn’t see any package with your name.”

Student: “Could you check again?”

Me: “There were only 6 packages, and I’m sure none of them were for you. Did you get an email saying your package had arrived?”

Student: “No.”

Me: “Did the tracking number say it had been delivered?”

Student: “Oh, no, the tracking number didn’t have any information on it.”

(I go online to double check her tracking number.)

Me: “It says here that you ordered the package only three hours ago.”

Student: “Yeah, so it’s not here yet?”

Me: “No. It says here that it’s coming from out of the country. It could take up to a month for it to arrive depending on how long it takes to get through customs, but it usually takes two or three weeks.”

Student: “Oh…well, okay. I’ll come back to check tomorrow then!”

(I’m working during a night shift. A girl enters the lobby in her pajamas.)

Student: “Um, hi. I’ve locked myself out of my room.”

Me: “Okay, no problem. As you know, the access fee is £5.”

Student: “Yes, I know, but I don’t have any money with me. Everything is in my room.”

Me: “Well, I can’t let you back in until we get £5 from you, but I can take it from your deposit if you like.”

Student: “No, no! You can’t do that. My mum will kill me!”

Me: “It’s either that, or you give me £5 cash right now. There is no alternative.”

(The girl awkwardly pauses.)

Student: “Are you sure?”

(The girl gives him a cheeky look before taking off her top completely, exposing her naked front. I stare in shock, before quickly regaining my composure.)

Me: “Well, those are very nice. Now, that’ll be £5 please.”

(I’m working at the student dining hall on a busy Thanksgiving dinner as a supervisor. A student walks up with a glass of ice in hand.)

Customer: “Excuse me, but your Sierra Mist is out.”

Me: “Oh, no problem, ma’am. Let me go downstairs and I’ll take a look.”

(I walk downstairs and check the soda dispenser. The Sierra Mist is half-empty, but still functional. I tell her it should be fine. She comes back ten minutes later.)

Customer: “Excuse me, I asked you to fix the Sierra Mist and it is still not fixed.”

Me: “Ma’am, I just checked it and it’s full.”

Customer: “You’re lying. It isn’t working at all.”

(I walk over to the dispenser and place a cup underneath the Sierra Mist and out pours clear, bubbly Sierra Mist.)

Me: “See, ma’am? It’s just fine.”

Customer: “No! It’s clear! See? It’s clear! The bottle is green. Sierra Mist is green!”

(I’m a public safety officer in charge of the entire campus over the weekend. A large building has been locked, secured, and the key card access has been turned off because the building is being fumigated. I get a call on my work phone.)

Me: “Campus safety, how can I help you?”

Faculty: “Hi, I need to get into [building].”

Me: “Sorry, that building is closed for fumigation.”

Faculty: “I know, I left something in my office that’s really important. I need to go up and get it.”

Me: “I understand, but the entire building is locked up so no one can get in.”

Faculty: “I know, I have been trying to get in. They must have shut off the keycard readers.”

Me: “You’re trying to get in? You can’t sir. The entire building is filled with toxic fumes.”

Faculty: “I know that! I just need to get in real fast and grab something.”

(His office is actually on the 4th floor. Even running and taking the elevator could be a 6-10 minute round trip in poisonous gas.)

Me: “Sir, I can’t let you in. You could become seriously ill from the fumes. I can’t take that responsibility.”

Faculty: “What if I wrote you a note saying it was okay?”

Me: “That likely wouldn’t protect me from much if I let you in and you collapse. Then I would have to go in and get you and compromise my health and safety.”

Faculty: “But you’re Campus Safety! Isn’t it your job to do that?”

Me: “I’m ensuring your safety by not letting you in a poison-filled death trap.”

Faculty: “Fine, then!” *hangs up*

(It is the first week of classes, so the book store is absolutely packed.)

Student: “Can you help me?”

Me: “Of course. What do you need?”

(The student hands me her book list.)

Student: “Find all of these for me.”

(I am giving a tour in a residence hall.)

Parent of student: “Are boys and girls allowed in the same room?”

Me: “No, the genders here are separated by floor or sides of the building.”

Parent of student: “No, I mean can they sleep in the same room? In the same bed?”

Me: “We are not a religious university. We don’t have any rules against it.”

Parent of student: “Will I be notified if my daughter is having intercourse?”

Me: “Hello this is [name] from [college] returning your call. What can I do for you?”

Student: “Hi, I was calling to find out–”

(A very loud noise erupts in the background. Yelling, laughing, and a strange buzzing sound ensues.)

Student: *sounding embarrassed* “Sorry about that. I work at a hospital and it’s really quiet today. Everyone’s playing Operation (the game).”

Me: *laughing* “Ma’am, you just made my day.”

Parent: "It’s ridiculous that I’m expected to give my information for my daughter to go to college. My parents didn’t pay for my college and I’m not paying for hers. I’m not giving it!"

Me: "Sir, these are the federal government’s regulations. According to the government, until your daughter is 23, married, or has a dependent of her own, she needs to provide your financial information."

Parent: "So, you’re saying if she gets married or knocked up, I don’t have to take care of her?"

Me: "Um…technically, yes."

Parent: *to daughter* "That’s it. You know what you have to do. You need to get pregnant now."

Daughter: *looking mortified and whining to her father* "Daaaad!"

Parent: "I’m serious. If you want to go to college then you’re throwing out your pills and getting yourself knocked up."