I worked at the help desk for the IT department at my university. It paid well enough for a student, and I got sharply discounted tuition. Plus, my folks let me just stay with them for a pittance of rent since we lived like five minutes away from campus. I could walk to class. It was the perfect set-up!

One semester, I was on shift one afternoon during the first week of school. Students were still getting their dorm rooms set up and connecting their gaming consoles or streaming devices, etc., so this week was typically busier for us at the help desk. We typically had to do a lot of allowing MAC addresses to bypass our NAT restrictions; students could request this by filling out a web form or by walking into the help desk. So, as you can imagine, we had a TON of traffic that first week.

The phone rang.

Me: “Thanks for calling the help desk at [University]. This is [My Name]; how can I help?”

Student: “I need more bandwidth for my Internet connection in my dorm room. The speeds I’m getting are unacceptable, and I can barely connect to the Playstation Network. Please boost my bandwidth to a minimum of 200 Mb down and 40 Mb up.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I do not have control over that. Our network admin and CIO have set and determined the necessary bandwidth allowances for the dormitories along with the other buildings on campus by priority. We don’t have enough bandwidth in our pipeline to accommodate that for you.”

Student: “Well, I understand that, but you see, my father is [Father], the CEO of [Local Company that donates to this university], and I think we can reach an understanding that I rightly deserve an extended bandwidth increase due to my family’s background. Please stop making excuses and get it done.”

Me: “Once again, I’m sorry, sir. I cannot accommodate that, nor do I control it.”

Student: *In a snooty rich boy tone* “That’s okay. I’ll just go around you and keep escalating until I get what I want. Thanks.” *Click*

The way we were set up was we had a single bandwidth pipeline for the whole school, and it was split two ways: the main campus buildings and the dorms. The former were “priority” for the bandwidth needs, and the dorms came second. So, unfortunately, the dorms got less bandwidth and thus less speed. You just had to learn to time out when the best time to connect online for gaming and streaming was, and that was NOT in the evenings when everyone was back from class. For surfing the web or checking email? It was fine. For gaming and streaming video? Not great. But it was what it was. Instead of streaming, you were better off collecting DVDs or renting them from the (then still open) video store in the area and connecting in a LAN with other dorm-mates if you wanted to game multiplayer (or play solo on local campaign mode).

The CIO, the network admin, and I were on casual terms — the IT department at the school was a tight-knit group — so I later asked them both how that all went down. [Student] escalated all the way up to the CIO, who promptly told him to go pound sand and that he would not be receiving more bandwidth just because he was [Local Company]’s CEO’s son. If he wanted more bandwidth, he’d have to go get his own personal data plan and hotspot to do that. [Student] lost his mind and threatened to get his dad involved. CIO said go ahead and called his bluff.

Nothing ever happened, and as far as I know, [Student] made do or went and got his daddy to buy him a fancy cellular hotspot for his special Internet needs — AFTER his daddy talked to our CIO and got cleared to do so. (Our CIO was a firebrand guy who knew how to handle himself in any situation and knew how to stand up to bullies and read political situations easily.)

Unfortunately for us, [Student] stuck around for a full-ride four years in the dorms, and so, like clockwork at the beginning of each semester (we reset the NAT restriction filters between semester breaks for security reasons, so you had to get your MAC addresses re-submitted every semester as a result), he would call in with the same snooty attitude about other random junk, like, “Please reconnect the cable jack in my room. The Wi-Fi here is crap.” We always drew straws to see who got to deal with him.

I’m a bagger in a grocery store. A parent comes through my line with two kids: a boy and a girl between seven and nine years old. They’re getting a pack of Pokémon cards.

Me: “Do you guys have a favorite Pokémon?”

Little Girl: “Kirby.”

Guess she wasn’t a Pokémon kid.

I used to work at a doggie daycare on the Upper West Side in New York, and we had some very… “colorful” clientele.

One of my favorite stories happened with a fairly new client and her cute little poodle mix.

New Client: “I would like to bring Roscoe in for boarding this week. It’ll be his first time away from home.”

Me: “That’s great! I’d be happy to give you a tour of the boarding area and the schedule so you can see what he’ll be doing and where he’ll be sleeping.”

New Client: “That would be great.”

We head into the boarding area, and as I’m showing her around, she seems to get more and more uncomfortable with the different areas. She occasionally stops and emits a “hmmm” as if she’s studying the architecture of the facility. I will pause to say that this is probably one of the nicest doggie daycares I’ve ever worked in.

We finally get to the kennels where the dogs sleep at night, and this client seems to lose it.

New Client: “Oh! Oh, this will not do! How can you put dogs in here?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not sure I understand. Our kennels are temperature controlled, they have access to fresh running water, they’re rated for safety, they have raised beds, and there is enough space for them to move around comfortably.”

New Client: “This is a disgrace! I can’t believe you allow dogs in here!”

Me: “Ma’am, what part of this room is upsetting you exactly?”

New Client: “They’re…” *whispered* “…orange!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, they are orange…”

New Client: “I can’t believe you would put a dog in an orange room! It’s disgusting! It’s cruel! You must repaint this room for my dog to stay here! He can’t live like this!”

This rant about “orange” goes on for over five minutes.

Me: “Ma’am… you do know that dogs cannot actually see the color orange, right?”

The new client looked more confused than I’ve ever seen anyone look. Either she wasn’t aware that the spectrum of color a dog can access did not, in fact, include orange, or she just had a problem with the color herself. Either way, after a conversation about how dogs see color, she calmed down and boarded her dog.

I work in a nursing home. I don’t want to sound like I’m making fun of the residents, but working with people with dementia can be a real trip, like the guy who screams and the lady who thinks I’m her grandmother. This one resident, though, is pretty sassy.

One day, I’m walking by and see a nurse trying to give her a shot.

Resident: “What are you doing?”

Nurse: “Giving you your insulin.”

Resident: *With some attitude* “What makes you think I don’t have enough?”

Another time, a medical aide asks for her finger so she can test her blood. The resident sticks out her middle finger.

Resident: “Is this one good?”

I used to go to a private school, and when I was twelve, I had a disabled classmate. (I don’t know exactly what his disability was because I never asked, obviously, but it was a cognitive/learning disorder.) He had his own assistant teacher, would take different tests, sometimes got out of class to do specific activities, and things like that.

Because of that, it was obviously harder for [Classmate] to socialize, even though no one was mean toward him or anything like that, but I was always kind of closest with him, and he really liked me.

One day after school, I was waiting for my mother to pick me up. [Classmate]’s father arrived and stopped to talk to me.

Father: “[Classmate]’s mother is pregnant, and we told [Classmate] he could choose his baby sister’s name. He chose [My Name] because of you!”

I’m eighteen now, and it’s still one of the things I feel most honored about in my life.