Brother: “You said you weren’t eating dinner!”

Me: “I did not! I joked that I was going to eat Oreos for dinner instead.”

Brother: “That’s not an idle threat in this house!”

(A customer comes in at about 2 pm; he is the only customer in the store.)

Customer: “Why is there only one person by your tills?”

Coworker: “Because it’s a quiet period. My manager and my other colleague are currently restocking the shelves.”

Customer: “That’s ridiculous! Somebody should be on every till!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, with respect, you’re the only person in the store. Why would we need all three tills to be manned?”

Customer: “I should have the right to choose who I get served by.”

Coworker: “Well, I could buzz for my colleagues if you like?”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to have to wait. I’m busy. I’m in a rush.”

Coworker: “Well, either I can buzz for my colleagues or I can serve you and you can get on with your day. Which would you prefer?”

Customer: “NEITHER! I WANT TO CHOOSE MY TILL!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, those are my only two options. My colleagues aren’t at the till. If you want a choice, I can buzz them and they’ll get here within twenty seconds, or I can serve you and you can be out of the store and getting on with your day within twenty seconds. The choice is utterly yours.”

Customer: “I can’t believe your service is so poor. You know what? I don’t even want this!”

(The customer puts down a bottled drink.)

Customer: “I will just have a drink when I get home.”

(By now, my manager and I have heard the commotion. We come over after the customer leaves.)

Manager: “What just happened?”

Coworker: “I… I’m not sure.”

(I’m lying on my back on the floor watching TV. My two sons, ages five and two are with me. My two-year-old son suddenly steps on my stomach. I yell and curl up in pain.)

Two-Year-Old Son: “Sorry.”

Five-Year-Old Son: “[Brother], did you just step on mummy’s nuts?”

(A guest calls from the elevator to the front desk.)

Guest: “Um yeah. Your elevator is not working.”

Me: “What seems to be wrong, ma’am?”

Guest: “It won’t move anywhere.”

Me: “Okay, I will be right down to check it out.”

(I go to the elevator. The guest is on the first floor, hitting the ‘1’ button.)

Me: “Ma’am, you are on the first floor hitting the first floor button.”

(She was quite embarrassed. I can’t say I blame her!)

(A customer service agent is sending an email to another department for me. He is extremely slow and quite obviously an elderly man with poor hearing. My lunch break is almost over, so my patience is admittedly growing thin. I am a 31-year-old man.)

Agent: “Okay, so I am… writing him… an e-mail… for you. It says… ‘Ms. Smith called and—”

Me: “Mister.”

Agent: “Oh, uh, yes?”

Me: “Mister.”

Agent: “Yes, what can I do for you?”

Me: “No, it’s ‘Mister.'”

Agent: “Oh, you can just call me [Name].”

Me: “No, I’m not calling YOU ‘Mister.’ It’s ‘Mr. Smith.'”

Agent: “Right, ‘Ms. Smith called and’—”

Me: “No, it’s ‘MR. SMITH called,’ not ‘MS. SMITH called.'”

Agent: “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Smith—I mean, Mr. Smith. Should I call you Mr. Smith?”

Me: “Just fix the e-mail please.”

Agent: “Okay so it goes ‘Ms. Smith called and’, oh wait, I should probably change that to Mr. Smith, shouldn’t I?”