(Keep in mind that I’m male with a deep voice. We do not send techs to troubleshoot; troubleshooting has to be done on the phone, then we send a tech to replace parts.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Tech Support]. How may I–”

Customer: “Send me a tech to fix my computer.”

Me: “Well, what’s wrong with it?”

Customer: “It’s not working!”

Me: “Well, okay, but in order to get it working again, I would need to know what exactly is wrong.”

Customer: “I just told you it’s not working. Send me a tech to fix it!”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can help you perform some troubleshooting and–”

Customer: “Why the f*** can’t you just send me a tech?”

Me: “Well, like I said, I can’t do that. All I can do is troubleshoot with you on the phone to find out what’s wrong and then–”

Customer: “WELL, THAT’S GREAT, A**HOLE! I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY! SEND ME A TECH, NOW!”

Me: *fake crying* “Why? Why do you hate me so much? Don’t you know how hard it is for a single mom with five kids to make a living?” *sob*

Customer: “???” *hangs up*

(I got written up for that. It was totally worth it though!)

Me: “[University], how may I transfer your call?”

Lady: “Yes, my son missed his first day of class and for some reason the classroom has changed and he can’t find it.”

Me: “He can come into the computer lab and look up his schedule to verify which room the class is located.”

Lady: “He is on campus right now wandering around and no one is helping him. He is already late for class, and it is your fault. Can you go find him and take him to his class?”

Me: “…we don’t provide those services. He can come look at the schedule and then go to class.”

Lady: “Urgh!” *click*

(I used to work in a retail store as a cashier. I would sometimes get people who would hand me empty wrappers or pop bottles saying they had eaten/drank the contents while shopping. I was used to it, and appreciated honesty. Then this….)

Me: “Hello, how are you today?”

Customer: “Good…”

(The customer hands me an empty hot dog vacuum-seal wrapper thingie. THE FROZEN ONES.)

Customer: “I ate these while I was shopping. Could you ring them up for me?”

Me: *facepalm*

(I work at an store that sells teaching materials. A guy comes in. Keep in mind I was the only person in the store at the time.)

Me: “Hello! Can I help you find anything today?”

Customer: “Yes, I’d like to get an algebra book for my nephew.”

Me: “Okay.

(I show him the algebra books, and we make small talk about his nephew…)

Customer: “I can see the divine light in you.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “I went up to the mountain and Jesus burned the sins out of me. I couldn’t see anything except fire. Now I can see the divine light in people. You have it. You are pure and innocent.”

Me: *trying not to be completely freaked out* “Huh…heh…”

Customer: “I can see it…you are immortal!”

Me: “Okay…”

(Later, when my boss came back and I told her about this, she laughed and told me that according to this guy she was a Demon Slayer. I felt kind of swindled.)

(I work every summer in a beach shop in Florida. One morning, a man comes in and buys a beach chair, and returns after a few hours with his family.)

Customer: “I would like to return this chair.”

Me: “Of course. Do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No, I just went to the beach. Why would I keep the receipt?”

Me: “Is there a reason why you are returning the chair?”

Customer: “It’s broken.”

(The chair is soaked with water, coated with sand, and has a hole in the seat from what looks like a footprint on the cushion.)

Me: “I am sorry, sir, but we cannot accept used, broken items for return.”

Customer: “What?! I didn’t break it!”

Me: “I am sorry sir, but without a receipt, it still cannot be returned.”

Customer: “Son of a b****! You hear that kids? This Russian b**** is going to f*** up our vacation!”

Me: “…Russian? I live here.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me! I hear that accent.”

Me: “…What accent?”

Customer: “THERE! You just did it. No one talks like that in the Northeast.”

Me: “…I’m a Southerner. You’re in the South.”

Customer: “Whatever, you piece of racist s***”

(The man left only after he threw the chair at a clothes rack. Quite the job experience for a fifteen-year-old.)