(We are a small office. If all of us are on the phone, and calls can take a long time to handle, the phone system encourages callers to leave a phone message so we can get back to them as quickly as possible.)

Caller: *answers phone message to us* “I am calling to complain! This is absolutely appalling service. You should answer the phone when I am trying to call you. If you’ve got someone on the line, why don’t you hang up on them if I want to call you? My call surely would be more important than theirs! I demand you hang up on whoever you are talking to at the moment and call me back immediately! My number is…”

(There is a long pause.)

Caller: “Oh, s***. I can’t remember my own number.”

(It’s my first day working alone, and I’m pretty nervous. I check in a guest that had requested a crib earlier, and see there’s a note saying that it’s been delivered.)

Me: “Yes, sir. I see a note here saying that a crib is in your room waiting.”

Guest: “Great! Thanks!”

(Later, he calls to tell me that there is none. I end up having to hunt one down, which takes a long time. Meanwhile the guest is very angry, and berates me to the point of tears. The next day my manager calls me over.)

Manager: “We had a big complaint against you. It was from that guest last night.”

Me: “I tried to find him a crib.”

Manager: “Hmm…”

Me: “Someone had put a note saying it was in the room but it wasn’t.”

Manager: “Yes. We wanted to see how you would handle it if there was no crib and the guest wanted one.”

Me: “Wait a minute… Are you telling me that you put that note there?”

Manager: *nodding shrug*

Me: “So… you deliberately set up me up to see what I would do? The guest made me cry! He was furious!”

Manager: “I know. You failed the test! I won’t have you working alone yet.”

(Right away, I looked for another job that didn’t play games at my and the customer’s expense!)

(On the Saturday night of a weekend-long fan-based media convention, we hold a dance for the attendees. A mother comes up to the security office and voices a complaint.)

Mother: “The music is too loud and it’s running too late. I want it shut down.”

Me: “Ma’am, our dance is scheduled until 5:00 am, and we are not disturbing any other events.”

Mother: “Well, there are kids are in there and if this thing is for kids, then there should not be a dance!”

Me: “Yes, this convention is an all-ages event, but the dance is one of our most popular events and we have no intention of shutting it down.”

Mother: “Well, I’m the customer and I’m always right! You should do what I say and shut the dance down! Where is your supervisor? I’ll get him over to shut the dance down.”

Chairman: “Ma’am, what is the problem?”

Mother: “I want you to shut the dance down! There are kids here and they should not be in a dance at this time of night! And this man is not helping. Make him shut the dance down!”

Chairman: “The dance is one of our biggest events. Closing it down would disappoint thousands of our attendees who look forward to it each year.”

Mother: “THIS IS NOT FAIR! I WANT THE D*** DANCE SHUT DOWN AND I WANT IT SHUT DOWN NOW!”

Me: “Ma’am, raising your voice will not help your case. Please calm down.”

(I figure that there is something else going on, and offer her a seat and a glass of water. She sits down calms down a bit.)

Me: “Is there something else going on?”

Mother: “My daughter sneaked out of our hotel room and I know she’s in the dance. I went in there and I couldn’t find her.”

Me: “Is that all? So you wanted us to shut the entire dance down, just to get your daughter out?”

Mother: *timidly* “Yes…”

Me: “Did you actually think that we would do it?”

Mother: “Yes…”

Me: “Why?”

Mother: “Because I always get my way!”

This story is part of our Dancing roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

22 Fun Stories About Musical Theater That Will Have You Dancing In The Aisles!

Read the next Dancing roundup story!

Read the Dancing roundup!

(I am disabled and have a service dog that accompanies me everywhere, including my job. I typically run a register, and he will either sit or lay beside me on the rubber mat behind the register. I typically don’t talk about my disabilities with strangers, since some people can be rather mean.)

Customer: “Oh, a service dog! Are you training it?”

Me: *ringing up customer’s items* “No. He’s mine.”

Customer: “But you don’t look disabled.”

(I just smile and continue their transaction.)

Customer: “Oh! Do you have seizures?”

Me: “Something like that.”

Customer: “Diabetes?”

Me: “Something like that.”

Customer: “PTSD?”

Me: “Something like that.”

Customer: “Well! I wasn’t trying to be nosy. Hmph!”

Me: “Sorry about that. Your total will be [total].”

(The customer pays and takes his bags, starts heading for the door before turning back to me.)

Customer: “I’m sorry. That was rude of me, wasn’t it?”

Me: “Something like that.”

This story is part of our Service Animals roundup!

Read the next Service Animals Roundup story!

Read the Service Animals Roundup!

(I am a waitress at a pizza restaurant. We use a number system to place orders. Each ticket gets a number to put on their table for us to bring the food to them. My boss, the cook, has two different orders of the same salad, one small for table four, and one large for table five, which is supposed to be shared.)

Boss: *handing me the large* “This one goes to table four.”

(I take the salad to the table and come back to pick up the next order.)

Boss: *handing me the small* “Actually, this one goes to four. The other one goes to five.”

Me: “I took the other one to four already!”

Boss: “Then go get it back!”

(I go over to the table with the new salad. Luckily they have not eaten it yet.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I gave you the wrong salad. This one’s yours.”

Customer: “What’s the difference?”

Me: “The one I gave you is a large. It’s supposed to be shared. You ordered a small. The large is for the next table over.”

Customer: “Oh, okay.”

(The customer takes the small salad from me. I reach for the large salad, and the customer picks up her fork, licks it, and sticks it in the salad.)

Customer: “You gave it to me, so it’s mine. Where’s my pizza?”

Customer At The Other Table: “We’re still going to need that salad.”

(I was speechless. I went back to my boss and told him what happened. He then yelled at me for not stopping the customer. Then he refused to make another salad. Table five came back inside to get a refund on the salad, which meant the boss had to come over. I got yelled at again for ‘not making them pay for it.’ I quit after that.)