(I work at a fast food restaurant that gives out calendars during fall. Like most places, it is a “while supplies last” basis, so we only order a large batch once. One year we give away all the calendars really quickly, and no customers think of it twice, except for one. I am working the drive-thru, which is always busy, and one lady, who I will reference as the Calendar Lady from now on, gives me a hard time. She pulls up to the window after ordering.)

Calendar Lady: “Don’t you usually hand out calendars?”

Me: “Yes; however, we already handed them all out. The coupons in the calendars are in the newspapers, too, if you are looking for coupons.”

Calendar Lady: “But I always get calendars every year.”

Me: “Sorry, but the demand was high, so we already gave them all out.”

Calendar Lady: “I come here every week, and I didn’t see them.”

Me: *getting frustrated* “Ma’am, they were displayed for the past few weeks.”

Calendar Lady: “How can that be? I never saw them. I get one every year.”

Me: *I don’t know what to do, or say* “Do you want to speak to the owner?”

Calendar Lady: “Yes, I would like that.”

(I turn around, and the manager is staring at me, so I tell her what’s going on. I then write down the restaurant’s phone number and give it to her.)

Me: “He’ll be in tomorrow morning.”

Calendar Lady: “Thank you. I’ll be sure to call.”

(She never did call the store. She came through again a year or so after and gave me a hard time about pricing changes when we add premium toppings on sundaes. I since quit working there, and I still get teased about the Calendar Lady.)

(I work the fitting rooms. The door to both restrooms is in the entrance to the hallway leading to the men’s fitting rooms. I often have customers that get the signs confused and try to go down the hall, but once you get past the initial door, you’re in a hallway with nothing but two doors that say “Men” and “Ladies.” The initial door is also locked, so I have to push a button to buzz customers in. One day, I’m working on a project a little way away from the fitting room — though still within sight — and I see a man approaching the area and reading all the signs, so I jump up to assist him.)

Man: “Where are the bathrooms?”

Me: “Just behind the door there.”

Man: *starts going down the hall to the men’s fitting rooms*

Me: “No, the door. Sir? Sir! SIR!” *I have to follow him and bring him back* “It’s this door right here.”

(I physically touch the door, then go back to the button to buzz him in. The man looks at the “Restrooms” sign on the door, then back down the hallway he’d come from, then around the corner to the rest of the store.)

Me: “It’s just behind the door.”

(The man finally opens the door, pokes his head inside, then looks down the hallway to the fitting room again.)

Me: “You got it. Right there behind the door.”

(The man finally goes through the door. At this point, he’s in a hallway with nothing but two doors that say “Men” and “Ladies,” so I go back to the project I was working on. After about a minute or two, he comes out of the door again, and I see him talking to his wife near the entrance to the fitting rooms. He’s already been in the bathroom and they’re not holding any clothing, so I don’t think much of it. After a bit, someone else approaches the fitting room, so I come back to count her in. When I’m finished, the couple approaches me again.)

Woman: “Bathroom?”

Me: “Okay, I’ll buzz you in.” *pushes button*

(The man looks very confused. The woman looks around at the signage.)

Me: “It’s just behind the door there.”

Woman: *hesitantly puts her hand on the handle*

Me: “Yeah, that’s it.”

(The woman opened the door, poked her head in, and then held the door open for her husband. He went in and she waited outside. I went back to my project. The man came out again fairly quickly and went talk to his wife. I came back to the fitting room and he asked to be let into the bathroom a third time. I buzzed him in yet again, and again he came out fairly quickly, but this time they left. I’m pretty sure he never did figure out how to use the bathroom.)

Customer: “I would like to get wedding invites done, but I want them on the paper you have on the shelf over there.”

Me: “Unfortunately, our wedding invites are done out of house, and we can only use the paper that’s provided through the vendor.”

Customer: “But it’s probably all white, isn’t it? I want it to look like this.” *shows me on her phone* “Plus, I want the favour tags and save the dates, and thank you cards and rsvps, too.”

Me: “Well, if you like, I can take down all the information about what you want, and send that to head office. They can get back to us letting us know if they can find a vendor who will do what you want, and they’ll give us a price and turnaround time, too.”

Customer: “So, you can’t do it on the paper I want?”

Me: “Not in store, or through our wedding program.”

Customer: “What if I give you the paper I buy from the shelf, and you print them here?”

Me: “We can only use the papers we have in the copy centre, because they’re already approved by Xerox.”

Customer: “So, you can’t do this at all?”

Me: “Well, like I said, I can send away for a quote.”

Customer: “But I want to see samples of the paper they have.”

Me: “They can probably send some samples over to us, actually.”

Customer: “Ugh. What am I going to do?”

Me: *pause* “We can send a quote request out?”

Customer: “I can’t believe you can’t do this for me!”

Me: “I said I could send a request for a quote.”

Customer: “But how will they know the kind of paper I want?”

Me: “I’m going to tell them.”

Customer: “But here: I also want to have this design around my invitation, but it’s $45 to buy the design from the artist! Do you think you could steal it?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “Because that’s how the artist makes their money. They won’t make a living if everyone steals their designs. You have to pay them for the file, or our graphic artists can create a new design for you. They could probably make it look similar.”

Customer: “Maybe I can steal it.”

Me: “Can I suggest that you don’t do that?”

Customer: “Ugh, but it’s so expensive! I don’t even want to spend $100 on this.”

Me: “Um, well, having an entire wedding package like this is going to cost you more than $100. Even if I could print it in-store for you, it would be more than $100.”

Customer: “So, you can’t do this for me at all?”

Me: “I didn’t say that. We can’t do it for under $100, but I can still request a quote for you.”

Customer: “But it’s going to be on white paper.”

Me: *screaming inside* “No, it isn’t.”

Customer: “Well, how will I know if I like the paper?”

Me: “I told you that they could most likely send us samples.”

Customer: “And what about when the order’s done? How am I supposed to pick it up?”

Me: “You would pick it up at the store.”

Customer: *looking through store paper sample book* “Ugh, I guess I could do it on this paper. Even though I don’t want this paper, at all. Ugh. I can’t believe I can’t get the paper I want.”

Me: Did you not want me to send out a quote request, to see if we can get the paper you want?”

Customer: “But I don’t get how you tell them what I want.”

Me: “I just type it up on the computer and sent it off. I just tell them what you want.”

Customer: “But we can’t get the paper I want.”

(OH, MY GOD! I was so frustrated with her. It went on forever.)

(At my work, if product comes in, it goes straight to the floor; no holding or back stock is allowed. In the beginning of December, we start to receive Easter product. I am putting it out in our holiday section, right by Christmas, when a man approaches me. He seems agitated, stops a few inches from me, and faces me with his arms tightly crossed. I stay polite as I respond to him.)

Customer: “I can’t believe you are putting up Easter stuff.”

Me: “Well, it’s my job, not my choice. They send it, and I have to put it out; I have no warehouse or backroom to keep it in.”

Customer: “He isn’t even born yet and you are already killing him!”

(Apparently, by doing my job and setting product on a shelf, I personally killed Jesus before he was born.)

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(I work in a department dealing with troubleshooting and appointment management. I get the shock of my life with this phone call.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. This is [My Name] speaking. How may I help you today?”

Customer: “I don’t know if I need someone who speaks Spanish. If you want to deal with me, you can.”

Me: “I understand you clearly and would love to help you out. May I ask what issue you are having this afternoon?”

Customer: “Yes, a technician was out here today to give me a new box, but it isn’t the box I wanted. I want the one with the clock on it.”

(I then inform the customer that I’m looking over her account to see which box was ordered. I realize right off the bat that she received the box she ordered. We just don’t carry the one with the clock, anymore.)

Me: “I see that you have the box you ordered; unfortunately, we no longer carry that type of box with the clock on the front.”

(The customer then proceeds in what was once well-understood English, and is now a mix of English and Spanish, in a very upset tone.)

Me: “I apologize that we no longer have those types of boxes, and for your inconvenience. Is the box working properly?”

Customer: “Yes, the box works fine, but I still don’t have a clock.”

Me: “Well, there is no way to guarantee that the b—”

Customer: “My son-in-law in [State] just got a box with the clock; why did I not get one?!”

Me: “Ma’am, the warehouse closest to your son-in-law more than likely still had those in stock. We cannot guarantee that the box has a—”

Customer: *becomes enraged* “You’re just discriminating against me because I’m Hispanic and I’m old. Just because I’m Hispanic, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have a brain.”

Me: “I understand you perfectly fine, [Customer], and there is no discrimination here. We simply didn’t have a box with a clock in sto—”

Customer: “I want to speak with a supervisor! You’re discriminating against me; you don’t want me to have a box with a clock on it. My son-in-law has one, but I don’t! I want that clock!”

Me: “I’m sorry you didn’t get the box you wanted. And I will get you through to a supervisor, but first I need to know the reason, so I can let them know the nature of this complaint.”

Customer: “I’m being discriminated against because I’m old and Hispanic. You did not give me a box with a clock on it!”

Me: “Okay, I will let them know that, and I hope we can get this issue resolved for you as soon as possible.”

(The supervisor is ready for transfer. I proceed to explain the complaint, word for word as the customer said, and the supervisor lets out a hearty chuckle.)

Supervisor: “So, I’ll just explain to her pretty much everything you just did.”

(I’ll never understand why people always throw the race card into the mix when they don’t get their way.)