This didn’t happen to me, but to a coworker. She’s on register five. A customer plops his stuff down on register four, two feet away.

Coworker: “Oh, I’m actually right here on five.”

Customer: “So you’re not going to check me out?”

Coworker: “I can, but on the next register.”

Customer: “But I’m right here. You can’t walk two feet to help a customer?”

Coworker: “I have to stay on this register.”

Customer: “This is terrible service; I’m not coming back.”

Then he walked PAST HER REGISTER to leave and didn’t buy anything.

I have always had a deep-abiding love for all yellow and black stinging things. I carried bumblebees around in my hands when I was a toddler, much to my mother’s chagrin. Eventually, I grew up and got a house of my own, and yellow jackets built a nest on the corner of my porch. I respected them and left them alone.

I would sit out in the afternoons and watch them fly around, doing wasp things. We came to a kind of understanding: I fed them and kept insect-level water available to them. The funny thing about wild animals, and even insects, is that they’ll recognize you as a non-threat if you don’t cause them harm and bring them food and water. So I could just walk through them, and they’d just chill in the air waiting for delivery.

One day a man came to my door and claimed he wanted to sell me magazines. However, something was off about him, and I just got that crawling feeling that I wasn’t safe. I refused to open the door, declined to listen to his spiel, and told him to please leave.

He got louder and angrier, pounding away on my door and yelling. I kept ordering him to get off the porch and that I wasn’t interested. He refused to take my no and began demanding at the top of his lungs to be let in, slamming both fists on the door.

And then it happened; his tone abruptly changed, and he started screaming. The vibrations of his pounding had agitated the nest, and dozens of my wasps had come to the rescue.

I told him that was why I had told him to leave, and wished him good luck as they drove him off.

The wasps dined on apple slices and a pinch of raw hamburger that night. I still adore yellow and black stinging things.

I’m a host at a fine dining restaurant.

Coworker: “Have you seen the request in the notes for the latest reservation?”

Me: “No?”

She shows me the screen, and the special request reads:

Request: “Please make sure our table only gets attractive female servers since it’s my buddy’s bachelor weekend getaway, and we want to have some fun.”

I decided this required a callback. I get the number from the reservation, and I say, without interruption, after announcing who I am and where I am calling from:

Me: “…Therefore, we are declining your reservation because this is a restaurant and you’re obviously looking for an escort service. Good luck planning your weekend getaway.” *Click.*

I’m being sent from the West Coast to the East Coast for some training. Some of my peers from other parts of the country were there as well.

Another worker and I are sharing a rental car. The other worker’s return flight is super early in the morning while mine is in the afternoon, so I call the travel department:

Me: “Can I just take a taxi or Uber to the airport and sleep in?”

Travel Agent #1: “No. That is above your travel allowance after taking into account the expenses for the rental car.”

Me: “So then I will be at the airport for six hours. On work time. My time card is going to show that I am being paid for six hours waiting in an airport.”

Travel Agent #1: “Taking a taxi is above your travel allowance after taking into account the expenses for the rental car. We do not approve this travel method.”

Since I felt like I was talking to a machine, I left it alone. I dutifully got up early with my coworker, rode to the airport, waited over six hours in the terminal, and caught my flight home.

When my manager was questioning my timecard for my logged time, overtime, and then into double-time:

Me: “I would have been happy to start my day much later, but the travel department told me no.”

Policies were updated as a result of that!

A year later, I was promoted to a position where I needed to fly to Hawaii several times a year. As usual, the travel department insisted that I must take the cheapest flight. That’s usually a flight that involves one or more connections and takes most of a day. I call the travel department:

Me: *After explaining.* “So, a direct flight costs like maybe $100 more but saves more than six hours of my paid time. Each way.”

Travel Agent #2: “No. Policy is that the cheapest method of travel must be used.”

I remembered the name of the agent in the travel department I spoke to a year earlier, so I asked:

Me: “Is [Agent] available?”

Travel Agent #2: “They are the manager for the department. Shall I transfer you?”

Looks like we both got promoted in the past year!

Me: “Yes, please!”

It takes a few minutes, but I finally get put through to my original agent. I get maybe three or four words out before:

Me: “Hello, my name is—”

Travel Agent #1: “—Yes, I remember who you are. Book whatever flight you want. Quickest time possible.”

I hear the other agent question this in the background.

Travel Agent #2: “But policy is—”

Travel Agent #1: *To the agent.* “—Policy is going to change…” *And then into the phone so that I could hear clearly.* “…Again.”

It was a very pleasant direct flight to and back from the Aloha state!

A man approaches me at the dealership and asks if the general manager is available. When I tell him he is not, he then says:

Customer: “I need somewhere private. I have a Zoom call that I can’t miss. Let me use the general manager’s office.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but the general manager’s office is private. Customers aren’t allowed to use it.”

Customer: “But I’m a doctor.”

Me: “I understand, but I still can’t let you into someone else’s office. You’re welcome to use the customer lounge.”

Customer: “No, this is a confidential call. I need the private office.”

Me: “That office isn’t available.”

Customer: “But I’m a doctor!”

Me: “That doesn’t give me permission to let you use it.”

Customer: “Then get me your supervisor.”

I call over my supervisor and explain the situation.

Supervisor: “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t use the general manager’s office.”

Customer: “But I’m a doctor.”

Supervisor: “Yes, we’ve established that. You can take the call in our customer lounge, but the private offices are for employees.”

Customer: “This is an important call! I need privacy!”

Supervisor: “Unfortunately, we don’t have a private room available for customers.”

Customer: “But I’m a doctor!”

Supervisor: “That doesn’t change our policy.”

Customer: “Then I want to speak to your manager.”

The manager directly beneath the general manager comes over. By now, the customer has apparently decided that his occupation is the master key to every locked door in the building.

Manager: “I’m told you’d like to use the general manager’s private office.”

Customer: “Yes. I’m a doctor, and I have an important Zoom call.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, but that office isn’t available for customer use.”

Customer: “Did you not hear me? I’m a doctor!”

Manager: “I heard you. The answer is still no.”

Customer: “Fine, because of missing this call, you might have cost someone their life!”

Manager: “You’re not a very good doctor if you leave a patient’s life hanging in the balance based on your ability to get a private space for a Zoom call in a car dealership, are you?”

The doctor scoffs and ends up taking the Zoom call in the customer lounge for everyone to hear.

From what I overhear, it is less about a patient’s life hanging in the balance and more about him shouting at some guy to help him make changes to his NFL fantasy football league because he doesn’t know how…