(I’m serving a customer and she catches sight of my engagement ring.)

Customer: “Oh my God, you’re married?”

Me: “Engaged, actually.”

Customer: “Wow, but you’re so ugly!”

(I work in a small deli. One particularly busy Saturday, I am running the front of the store by myself, trying to keep up with the rush, while my coworker is busy baking our bread product in the back. About ten people all arrive at the same time, approximately half of whom order sandwiches that take the longest to make. I rush through everything, but I’m sure they still wait in line for close to ten minutes, plus another ten for their food. A customer and her husband both order breakfast sandwiches. I take their food out to them with a smile and while I am there, the wife — who, I happen to notice, is on a website putting up a review — asks me if I am a manager. I am not, I answer, but I tell them my manager’s name and when she’ll be in next. Fast forward a couple days later. I go into work, where my manager ambushes me as soon as I come in the door to tell me about this phone call she got yesterday, on my day off, from the very same customer:)

Customer: “Is this the manager?”

Manager: “Yes.”

Customer: “I want to make a complaint.”

Manager: “Okay.”

Customer: “I was in on Saturday, and it looked like you only had one employee here, and we had to wait for a long time!”

Manager: “So?”

Customer: *huffing* “Well, that’s just ridiculous! We had to wait in line, and then we had to wait for our food!”

Manager: “Was it busy?”

Customer: “Well, yes, but—”

Manager: “And what was my employee doing while it was busy? Was she outside having a smoke?”

Customer: “Well, no, she was helping other people, and making food.”

Manager: “So, what are you complaining about, then?”

Customer: “Well, I had to wait!”

Manager: “And?”

Customer: “You need to hire more people!”

Manager: “Maybe. But we’d rather have ten good ones than twenty mediocre ones. Was your food good?”

Customer: “Yes, but—”

Manager: “So, you have nothing to complain about. The food was good, and you got good service; you just had to wait. This isn’t a fast food place. If you want fast food, there’s a burger place down the street. Next time, go there, so you won’t have to worry about waiting. Now quit wasting my time. I have work to do.”

(And then she hung up. I only wish I’d been there to see it.)

(I work on the front desk at a repair shop. A client calls us back; they called earlier and spoke with someone else.)

Client: “I need you to tell me who my insurance is.”

Me: “…Pardon?”

Client: “I called before and you told me that I needed to find out who insured my car, so tell me who insures my car!”

Me: “Er, sorry, I wouldn’t know that. You need to know who your insurance is with.”

Client: “Well, I don’t know who my insurance is! Find out for me!”

Me: “I can’t do that. There’s more than two dozen insurance companies in the immediate area alone. Do you have any documents about your insurance? An insurance policy? An invoice?”

Client: “This is bullshit! I pay $1000 a month to be insured, and you don’t even know who it is?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but we aren’t your insurance company. We fix cars. We don’t know who your insurance company is.”

Client: “WHY NOT?!”

Me: “Because we aren’t your insurance company, we haven’t ensured your car, and you have never dealt with us before. There is no way for us to know where your car is insured.”

Client: “When I bought this car, I spent a lot of money on getting this protection pack and I was promised [Insurance Company]’s extended protection and—”

Me: “Excuse me—”

Client: “I’m not finished!”

(Cue a five minute long rant about how he spent so much money on his car, during which he mentions the insurance company’s name no less than four times.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir. But did you say that you have [Insurance Company]’s protection?

Client: “YES!”

Me: “So, you mean [Insurance Company] is your insurance company?”

Client: “How should I know?!”

Me: “Okay, well, if you have [Insurance Company]’s cover, then that is your insurance company.”

Client: “God, was that so f***ing hard?!”

Me: “Thank you for calling. My name is [My Name]. May I have your phone number, please?”

Customer: “Okay… two.”

(I wait a few seconds for the customer to finish. The customer stays silent.)

Me: “And what’s the rest?”

Customer: “No that’s it.”

Me: “Your phone number is two?”

Customer: “Oh! I thought you asked me what my favorite number was!”

(A client comes up to my desk to apply for an advertised job vacancy. He seems suitably qualified, so I phone the employer to arrange an interview.)

Me: “Hi, I have a Mr. [client name] with me. He’d—”

Employer: “No.” *hangs up*

Me: *to client* “Right… Looks like he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Client: “Wait, what was the guy’s name again?”

Me: “It is [employer’s name].”

Client: “Aw s***, sorry mate. If I’d known it was him, I wouldn’t even have bothered. I shot his son in the leg a couple of years back. It was an accident, but for some reason he’s had a grudge against me ever since.”