(I work at a popular home improvement store. During the morning, the fire alarm had gone off and because of it, I am partially deaf. This happens ten or so minutes after the alarm is turned off.)

Me: *picks up phone* “Appliances. How can I help you?”

Customer: *muffled voice & thick accent* “Yes, I mmmph fridge mmmph pick up mmph thirty mmmph house.”

Me: “…I’m sorry, did you say you wanted a fridge delivered to your house in thirty minutes?”

Customer: “Yes. I mmmph mmph like 5 or 6 mmph. Your mmph website mmmph I like mmph want fridge.”

Me: “…sir, we won’t be able to deliver today. Our delivery is pushed out several days, and all of our appliances are delivered from a warehouse in Dallas, so—”

Customer: *muffled voice gets slightly clearer* “Oh, that’s fine. Whenever you can deliver it.”

Me: “Are you wanting to purchase over the phone?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “And you’re paying by credit card, correct?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: *begins setting up order despite still having a hard time hearing him*

Customer: “Can I pay for this in like a payment plan? How many months will it take?”

Me: “Well… uh, we have a [Company] credit card. You can get special financing. Six months no interest.”

Customer: “Yes. That.”

Me: “Do you have a [Company] account?”

Customer: “No. How do I get one?”

Me: “Well, you can apply either online on our website or in the store.”

Customer: “Can I apply over the phone?”

Me: “No, sir. The application needs your social security number and state ID, and that is information I am not allowed to take over the phone.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. So, just apply online?”

Me: “Yes. If you go to the top section, there’s a button that says ‘Credit Center.’ Click that.”

Customer: “Let me just make sure I’m on the right website.”

Me: “…sir, you told me earlier you were on our website.”

Customer: “Yes, but I want to make sure it’s the right one. Is it spelled [spells out website]?”

Me: “Yes. That is correct.”

Customer: “Okay, I clicked it.”

Me: “All right. You should see the application page. It’ll probably take you about five minutes. You can call me back when you’re done.”

Customer: *ignores what I’ve just said* “Do I fill out my name?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “And my address?”

Me: “…yes.”

Customer: “And my phone number?”

Me: “…yess…”

Customer: “…and my annual salary?”

Me: “…yesss…”

(This continues on for the entire application and I end up having to stay on the line with him while he waited three minutes for his application to process — which didn’t approve him.)

(I work for a bank where the majority of our accounts are with college-age students. Many of them have never before had a bank account or had any financial education. A lot of our calls deal with upset account holders with negative or overdrawn accounts, and they can’t understand how it got that way. This call lasts about an hour total, an hour that I will never get back.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Bank]. I am [My Name]. May I please have your account number?”

Customer: *provides account number and verifies herself*

Me: “Thank you for that information; how can I help you today?”

Customer: “Yeah, um, I should have more money in my account. Why don’t I have any more money?”

Me: *pulls up statements and reviews them quickly* “I’m sorry, ma’am, it looks like you spent your funds in the last week or so. I’m seeing a lot of transactions on your statements. Have you looked at them yourself?”

Customer: “Yeah, I looked at them, and I know I bought all that stuff, but I should have more money. Where’s the rest of it?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. It appears you’ve spent all the money currently in your account. The balance you see displayed is how much you have left.”

Customer: “NO! I know I should have more money. I did NOT spend that much. WHERE IS THE REST OF MY MONEY?!”

(As a way to calm the customer, I offer to go over their transactions with them one by one and explain how the money got spent. I proceed to spend the next half hour going line by line in their statement, explaining the debits of each purchase and the remaining balance after the purchase starting from when they received their deposit earlier in the week.)

Me: “So you see, ma’am, this is why your account is at this balance. The purchases we just went over brought your total to what you see now. Do you think any of the items should be disputed as an unauthorized transaction?”

Customer: “Hmm, uh-huh, yes, I do recall all of those purchases. I just don’t understand where all my money went.”

Me: “Ma’am, as we discussed, you spent the money. There is nothing left from your deposit. What you see is what you have.”

Customer: “So then why don’t I see the rest of my money? Did your company take it? Are you stealing from me?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not sure what money you are referring you. You received a deposit of [amount] on [Date] and since then you’ve spent all but the $5.14 you see now on your balance page. We just went over each transaction you made since the deposit and you confirmed them with me. You have spent all your funds; there is no more money left.”

Customer: “What do you mean? I KNOW I have more money. You took it! I know you did! Your company is a sham! I’m telling everyone to stay away from you.”

(This tirade goes on for over five minutes, with her screaming obscenities, calling me a liar, demanding I put the money back into her account, etc.)

Customer: You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” *slams phone*

Me: *stunned silence*

(The group in the section next to mine monitors the notification line for reports of incidents and spills in the state. They take all sorts of complaints and information requests. On off hours, the line is transferred to a .wav file and sent in email for the next day. Here is one they received:)

Caller: “Yes, this is [Name]; telephone number is [number]. Highway [location] down from a… it’s, uh… I don’t know the location. You got oil and water look that’s, uh, running down the stream; the amount I don’t know. I took a sample. It’s in my car storage. You know, I’m about to lose my life… going up and down this highway. I called about that oil spill out there by the football stadium. You put that new green tank. You hadn’t said “thank you.” I work for [Oil Company]; still working for them. I got [Training Certification] in my wallet. I don’t carry it around. I’m just trying to get my respect back. I got two bad kids who think that I’m NOTHING. They get in my face and they talk about me worse than the kids do on the outside. My wife seems to think I’m stupid, too, but I’m not! All I want to do for you all is get my name cleared up, get my stuff, uh, and I’ve been told to get out the country and I’m gon’ get out the country. I want my passport and my visa and get my shots and stuff together, and I’m gon’ get out the country. Okay? I’m going to Great Britain. And goin’ get out the country. And you won’t have to worry about me NO MORE! Let’s make that happen. And tell [Name] with the [completely unrelated State Legal Agency] that I’m telling the truth. My glass has been broken, they broke my ankle, my arm been broken, and going to [General Hospital] they say “come back, come back, your family needs ya.” They were talking about that in Fort Worth, Texas. Make them boys tell the truth. I don’t think all of them bad but I need to get out of here. M’kay, I’ve been done my time and I’m ready to go.”

(They wrote it down as an oil spill…)

(I’m giving out sample cups of French onion dip and carrots in a grocery store. I’m mixing more dip in a bowl on my table when I hear a woman’s voice say “You aren’t smiling enough!” and she flicks the brim of my hat.)

Me: *unsure I heard her correctly* “What?”

Cranky Lady: “I said you don’t smile enough.” *grabs and yanks my hat down over my face* “Are you gonna smile now?”

Me: *I adjust my hat and say in a cheery tone* “Smiles are for people who take samples.” *attempts to give her one*

Cranky Lady: “I don’t want any of that bull-s***.” *walks away*

Me: “…”

(I live very close to a library and often go there to help out. The librarians all know and respect me. I am however, quite young.)

Librarian: “Hello, [My Name].”

Me: “Hello! Anything you need done today?”

Librarian: “Could you shelve the books?”

(I start shelving the books — a whole cart full — when this particular patron comes in.)

Patron: *looking at me* “You know, you really shouldn’t be messing with their books. They work hard to shelve them!”

Me: “I am shelving them. I volunteer here.”

Patron: “No, you don’t! You’re too young to be working here!”

Me: “I don’t work here. I volunteer here.”

(The patron keeps badgering me, so I ignore her and keep working. When I’m almost done with the cart, she comes back.)

Patron: “Why are you still messing with the books? You don’t work here!”

Me: “Fine! Ask me anything about this library; I’ll answer correctly.”

Patron: “How much for printing?”

Me: “A black and white page is 25 cents, a color text page is one dollar, and a color image is two dollars.”

Patron: “Anyone can do that.” *seeing a librarian come out of the back room* “Miss! Did you know this girl has been messing up your books for the past hour?”

Librarian: “[My Name]? No, she was shelving them. She volunteers here.”

Patron: *taken aback* “Well, I bet she shelved them wrong.”

Librarian: *doing a quick run through* “Nope. They are all here. [My Name], how about a cookie?”

(I march myself into the back room, get a cookie, and eat it in front of the awestruck patron.)

Patron: *huffs and angrily stomps out of the library*

Me: “By the way, those books are due back in two weeks!”