I work at a mobile phone telco store. We have no capacity to solve problems with devices; the store is set up to only sell sim cards. We’re not device manufacturers or repair technicians. The only time we can do anything is sending a phone away under warranty.

I’m standing at the front booking people in. We have six people in the queue and the wait is thirty to forty minutes to be seen. A lady comes in with a phone.

Customer: “I use this phone for work, and it’s glitchy as h***. All these apps won’t work!”

Me: “We can’t provide support for [Phone Brand] or third-party apps if there’s an issue. How long have you had it for? Is it still in contract?”

Customer: “No, I’ve had it since this model came out.”

So, the warranty is well and truly gone.

Me: “Since it’s out of warranty and it’s a major technical issue, the only thing you can really do is go to [Phone Brand]. Otherwise, the only thing we can do in a telco store is factory reset the device or you can buy a new in-market software supported device.”

Customer: “I’m not doing any of that.”

Me: “Luv, you’re having issues with a four-year-old device that’s out of warranty and no longer supported by software updates. There’s nothing further we can do for you.”

Customer: “Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, aren’t you? I’m not leaving this store until it’s sorted!”

Me: “Can you curb your aggression? It’s unnecessary.”

Customer: “You feel threatened because I’m finally putting my foot down! I’ve worked in retail longer than you’ve been alive.”

My coworker then sits her down and explains the same thing I said and she has a dummy spit (tantrum) at her. Then, as she walks out of the store, she leans over, grabs my arm, speaking with the biggest grin on her face.

Customer: “See ya! Thanks for your help today.”

A customer approaches me, clearly upset.

Me: “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I want to complain about the dangerous state of your customer toilet! It was pitch black in there, and there was water on the floor! You put me in a dangerous situation!”

Yes, it was pitch black in there and there was water on the floor. To find this out, she had to push past the chair with the “Out Of Order” sign that had been pushed against the door, open the door with the second “Out Of Order” sign, and walk through the restroom area with the baby change table, etc., where the lights were off, to use the pitch-black toilet room.

But it was our fault that she had been put in a dangerous situation.

I am sitting in the break room with two of my coworkers. [Coworker #1] is scrolling through Facebook when she drops her phone and starts crying into her hands. 

Me: “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

I rub her back.

[Coworker #2] looks up from his own phone.

Coworker #2: “What happened?”

Coworker #1: “Jesus Christ…”

She turns her phone toward me. It’s a memorial for a man about our age. I recognize him, as he’s been in the store several times.

Me: “Oh, no.”

Coworker #2: “Who’s that?”

Coworker #1: “My ex-husband… He overdosed. I didn’t even know. I just talked to him two days ago.”

Me: “What do you need?”

Coworker #2: “Why are you sad about your dead ex-husband? Most people would rejoice.”

Me: “[Coworker #2]!”

Coworker #2: “I’m just saying, it didn’t work out, so why are you crying?”

Me: “Don’t say—”

[Coworker #1] turns and gives him a face full of rage and sadness.

Coworker #1: “I have to tell my children that their daddy will not be back to pick them up this weekend. And because his family thinks I’m a b**** for kicking him out, I found out on f****** *Facebook*!”

[Coworker #2] looks embarrassed for a moment but doubles down and glares at [Coworker #1]. 

Coworker #2: “Well, that’s what happens when you do drugs! F****** idiot!”

He got up and stormed out before either of us could say anything else. I now avoid [Coworker #2] unless I absolutely have to talk to him, as does [Coworker #1].

I’m living on my own and have no car, so when I get a great offer for kitty litter from a new online platform for pets in my email, I go to the online shop. Everything seems legit and shipping costs are reasonable, so I order six big bags of kitty litter, twenty-five litres a bag. Everything goes fine. I receive two big boxes with two bags of kitty litter in the first and second one but only one bag in the third.

I call customer service and they are very friendly.

Me: “I only got five bags of [kitty litter] instead of the six I ordered.”

Customer Service: “Oh! We’ll send you another bag free of charge.”

Only a few days later, a big box arrives on my doorstep. It has two more bags of kitty litter.

I call the shop again.

Me: “I needed one more bag of kitty litter and you sent two. Just bill me for the extra bag, since I’ll need it sooner or later.”

Customer Service: “Okay, we can do that.”

I think nothing of it, waiting for the new bill. Instead, a few days later, I get another box with, again, two bags of kitty litter and no bill.

I call again.

Me: “This is ridiculous. Now my flat, which is not too big, is now full of kitty litter!”

The five of six bags I ordered would have just fitted in the back of my closet and one would have gone in the box I had to use daily, but I had no idea where to put the extra bags.

Customer Service: “We’re sorry about that. Just keep the extra bags, no bill.”

I think, “Okay, fine. Now I will not need to buy more kitty litter for a long time. Well, I wanted some reserve, just not that much.”

A few days passed and another box came with another pair of bags with kitty litter. This time, I didn’t dare to call. For anyone keeping count, I had now received eleven bags of kitty litter. I had paid for six and only owned one cat! I packed the box aside and waited to see what would happen. 

A few months later, I looked at their online shop again and read that they were closed now.

Somehow, I’m not surprised. I also never got a bill for those extra bags of kitty litter.

Well, at least it was pretty good quality and I really got my money’s worth. On the bad side, my visitors stared at bags with kitty litter piled beside my sofa until I finally managed to use it up. Some made jokes about me being really afraid of floods in my own home and feeling the urge to build a bunker from kitty litter.

I work retail and have tattoos, so I am used to some customers complaining.

Customer: “Do you know what the Bible says about tattoos?!”

Me: *Smiling my most saccharine smile.* “Oh, absolutely! Isaiah 49: God has my name tattooed on the palm of his hand!”

That shut them right up!