(A customer has left some of their shopping at the store and calls regarding it.)

Me: “Good afternoon, this is [Store] [Location]. [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I was there earlier and the checkout chick didn’t give me some of my shopping.”

Me: “I apologise for the mistake. If you tell me what the items were, I can hold them here at the service desk so you can pick them u—”

Customer: “I need you to deliver them to me.”

Me: “Um. I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t do that.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not?”

Me: “We have a delivery truck, but that requires an extra fee you would need to pay for—”

Customer: “I didn’t say ‘truck.’ I told YOU to deliver it.”

Me: “You want me, personally, to deliver your shopping to you?”

Customer: “Yes. I’m just down the road in [Suburb a good half-hour from the store], so you can just drive down and give them to me.”

Me: *taking a breath to compose myself* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t do that. Delivery is restricted to the truck. And either you are asking me to leave my shift right now and deliver them to you or drive down in my own time for your shopping.”

Customer: “The b*** at the checkout left my shopping on the counter. That’s the store’s fault so someone should get me my shopping.”

Me: *losing my patience* “As I said before, ma’am; there’s restrictions. I can leave a message for the supervising staff member for when you can pick it up to hold your shopping here for you but no one is going to deliver you your food.”

Customer: “It’s got my dinner for tonight in it. What am I meant to have for dinner then, huh?!”

Me: “If you need it tonight, you’ll need to pick it up. The store closes at midnight, so you still have plenty of time to come here and collect it. I can offer you a discount voucher for the inconvenience, but no one is delivering you your food.”

(At this point, my department manager had returned from the office and is giving me a concerned look while going over the roster.)

Customer: “You are the nastiest little s*** I’ve ever talked to; I want to talk to your manager!”

Me: “Not a problem; just one moment, please.”

(Trying not to crush the phone, I hand it over to my manager and return to restocking the cigarettes. About five minutes later, my manager hangs up the phone, looking like she wasn’t able to process the stupidity on the other end of the phone.)

Me: “Did she insist on me delivering it or did she ask you to as well?”

Manager: “You, still. Said she’d have us both fired if it’s not delivered to her tonight but I just told her we can’t do that. Then she hung up.”

(The woman showed up the next morning, during my shift of course, acting like the conversation never happened and pretending that the girl on the phone had ‘screamed at her for no reason’. When she realised I was that girl on the phone, she promptly collected her shopping and left. Haven’t seen her since.)

(My roommate and I are running network cable through our house and found that we still needed one more cable to connect another device. We went to a parts store that apparently cut custom length cables upon request.)

Cashier: “Hello, welcome to [Computer Store]. How can I help you?”

Me: “I need a CAT-5 cable to connect my friend’s computer to the network.”

Cashier: “Okay, we can do that. How long do you want it?”

Me: “Uh… indefinitely, I guess. I am buying it.” *it did not immediately occur to me what exactly the cashier was asking*

(Silence.)

Cashier: “No, what length do you want it?”

(My friend and I started to laugh but I don’t think the cashier saw the humor of my stupidity.)

(I work in a call centre that receives incoming calls from customers often responding to a voicemail left on their voicemail requesting they contact us. I receive the following call:)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. May I have your account number or telephone number if we have called you.”

Caller: *provides telephone number*

Me: “Thank you for that. May I ask you some verification questions?” *verifies account* “Okay, and are you returning a phone call?”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “Did we call you and you are calling us back?”

Caller: “I don’t understand.”

Me: “Did we call you and leave a message for you to call us back?”

Caller: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Me: *face-palm* “Okay. How can I help you today, ma’am?”

Caller: “Um, yeah, you guys called me and left me a message so I am calling you back. Why did you call me?”

(I’m a customer in this story. The checkout operator is scanning my items.)

Checkout Operator: “Could you please put this ‘closed’ sign at the end of your groceries? I am about to close.”

Me: “Sure!”

(I place the ‘closed’ sign at the end of my groceries on the conveyer belt. The checkout operator turns off their ‘open’ light. I’m also the last customer in their line. A customer storms up the line I’m in with two full trolley loads of groceries and starts putting them on the conveyer belt.)

Checkout Operator: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m closing up. Checkout two behind me is open.”

Customer: “No, you’re not. I’m in a hurry and I am the customer; therefore I am right and you are NOT closed until I say.” *moves ‘closed’ sign out of the way*

Me & Checkout Operator: “…”

(I am a doctor at a GP. I’m rather unconventional for a doctor, with tattoos and piercings. Almost everyone is fine with it after meeting me, but it does sometimes spook some newer patients.)

Me: *walking into the lobby* “[Patient]?”

(Everyone quickly glances, but no one responds.)

Me: “I’m ready to see [Patient]?”

(Again, no one. I go back into my office and wait for a short while to see if they arrive. After 20 minutes I move on. I step out of my office and hear a woman shouting.)

Patient: “I’ve been waiting! This is my first appointment.”

Receptionist: “He didn’t call you?”

Patient: “No!”

Me: “What’s the name? I could maybe squeeze you in. I’ve had a no show.”

(The patient turns and recoils at my appearance, muttering “disgusting” under her breath.)

Receptionist: “It’s [Patient].”

Me: “Ah, you were my no show.”

Patient: *agog* “He can’t be a doctor!”

Receptionist: “He actually opened [GP].”

Patient: “But just look at him! F****** horrid! You look like a junkie! I want to see someone else!”

Elderly Patient: “Good! I guess it’s my turn, then!”

(The elderly patient makes her way past me when the other patient speaks up.)

Patient: “You aren’t serious! He’ll probably stick heroin in you or something! It’s f****** disgusting! Those stretched ears!”

Elderly Patient: “Shut up! I have lived long enough to know that the time and effort someone puts into their schooling is more important than the colours and holes they put in themselves, and if you can’t see that then I pity you. Dr. [My Name], come on. This hip is killing me.”

(The patient decided to make another appointment on a day I wasn’t working and is still with us. She is forced to see me regularly now, though, as her son has started suffering from asthma, and I’m the most experienced handling the condition. He likes to ask me lots of questions about my appearance and sometimes tries to pull on my ears when I’m not looking. His mum practically faints whenever he tries, and when finished sprints to the hand sanitiser, using so much of it she gets sticky, before sprinting out of the GP altogether.)