(Note that I usually work in the electronics department of my store. However, no one else is free to help a customer calling for hardware, so I take the call.)

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, I need an air conditioner for a window about [size]. Can you tell me what you have and how much they cost?”

Me: “Sure, let me put you on hold for a bit.”

(I check the air conditioners and find that they all require about the same size window, easily within the customer’s requirements.)

Me: “Actually, just about all of our air conditioners will fit. They range from about $100 to $300…”

Caller: “What? He wants $300 to fix this one?”

Me: “No, we’ve got some cheaper than that, as low as $100.”

Caller: “What brand are they?”

Me: “Most of them are [Brand], but a few are [Other Brand].”

Caller: “Hmm, never heard of [Brand] before. Are they any good?”

Me: “Actually, I don’t usually work in this area, so I don’t know how good they are. All I can really tell you is how much power the box says it has.”

Caller: “Oh, all right. I need one that’s at least twelve hundred. H6ow much do they have?”

(I go and check again, and find out that even the cheapest one is 5,000 BTU (British Thermal Unit).)

Me: “Actually, even our cheapest one is 5,000 BTU…”

Caller: “No, I don’t want your cheap one. I want a good one. At least twelve hundred.”

Me: “Er, I just said it’s 5,000, more than four times as much as you’re asking for…”

Caller: “No, I need something at least twelve hundred!”

Me: “Wait… do you mean twelve hundred, or twelve thousand?”

Caller: “Oh, yeah, maybe that’s what’s written down here. Twelve thousand.”

(I go and double-check, and find out our most expensive unit is 12,000 BTU.)

Me: “Okay, our most expensive one is $300, a [Brand] with 12,000 BTU.”

Caller: “Oh, $300? That’s a steal! And it’s a [Brand]? Oh, I know those are good. Thanks, I’ll be in later to pick it up.”

(An older man and his daughter come into the animal shelter. His daughter is wearing slippers in public.)

Me: “Hello! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Man: “Yeah, I want a kitten.”

Me: “Okay, well we only have one really young kitten right now. She is about four months old an—”

Man: *interrupts me* “Yeah, I’ll take that one.”

Me: “Well, you have to spend some time with her and make sure that she has the personality you’re looking for.”

(We take the kitten into the adoption room so he can spend time with her and so I can further counsel the adoption. The man spends about four minutes with the kitten and comes back out holding her. I go up and take the kitten.)

Me: “Is everything okay?”

Man: “Yeah, I want that kitten.”

Me: “Well, I need you to spend at least fifteen minutes with her. The time you spent with her isn’t enough to get to know her, and I’ll have to ask some questions.”

Man: *getting annoyed* “I just want this kitten.”

Me: “You have to spend more time with her so we can make sure she is going to the right home.”

Man: “I’m a good pet owner! I just want the kitten!”

Me: “I’m not saying you aren’t. You just have to spend more time with her.”

Man: “Well, I have stuff to do! I can’t spend all day here!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you are required to spend more time with her if you want to adopt from us.”

(The man stares at me blankly for a minute, throws his arms up and starts to walk out. At this point his daughter chimes in.)

Daughter: “You people are ridiculous!”

(She promptly followed her dad out and left.)

(Usually, it’s pretty slow but one day a patron is very irate and storms over to me.)

Me: “Hello, sir. How may I help you?”

Patron: “You need to change your doors!”

Me: *slightly confused* “Excuse me?”

Patron: “Your doors are on the wrong side. This is f***ing America! We do everything to the right! You god-d*** door entrances are on the left. I demand you fix them!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask that you stop using that type of language and keep your voice down. I’m sorry you have such a problem with the position of our doors. I can fill out a maintenance request but I don’t think there is much they will be willing to do since they isn’t actually anything physically wrong with the doors.”

Patron: “Listen here! I’m the Dean of this library! I demand you fix those doors right now! This is America, not f***ing England! ”

Me: “Sir, I am asking you again to lower your voice and not speak to me that way. If I have to ask you again I will be asking you to leave. And sir, that’s pretty amazing surgery if you’re in fact the dean.”

Patron: “What the h*** are you talking about?”

Me: “Well, sir, you’re a Caucasian, mid-twenties male. Our Dean, at least as of this morning when she came in, was an African American, middle-aged woman.”

(He stormed out of the library as security quickly followed him. He was banned from the library and I never did put in that maintenance request!)

(The bookshop I work in is located in quite a busy city station. People are usually rushing and forget stuff all the time, so we get phone calls almost daily regarding forgotten bags, wallets, and purchases.)

Me: “Good morning, [Company].”

Customer: Ah, hello, yes. I was in your shop last night and I left my wallet behind on the counter.”

Me: “Oh, sure, and were you in the book department or the news?”

Customer: “Newspapers.”

Me: “Sure thing. Hang on there and let me just check with the girls.”

(I phone across to News, and after a couple of enquiries, no wallet is forthcoming. I get back on to the customer.)

Me: “Hi, sorry, the girls say there’s no sign of any wallet left behind the counter or in the safe or anything. It was definitely in News, was it?”

Customer: “Oh, yes, definitely.”

Me: “Okay, hang on again. It may’ve been brought across to our office for safe-keeping. Let me just double-check.”

(I phone inside to the cash office with my enquiries, to no avail, and get back on to the customer.)

Me: “Okay, no one can seem to find your wallet, but listen: the girls who worked the close last night aren’t in yet today, so if I can just get your phone number and description, I’ll have our security guard check the CCTV from last night and see if we can’t track it down.”

(I get the customer’s description, colour of clothing, time of transaction. She even describes her daughter’s details to me so I can pick them out in the busy milling shop-floor, and I promise to call her right back as soon as I find anything. The security guard and I head inside and after a few seconds searching, find the customers fitting the description, at the correct time. We watch the transaction. No wallet was left behind. I get back on the phone.)

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name] from [Company]. Is that [Customer]? Yes, hi. Well, the security guard and I just had a quick peep through the CCTV from last night and you didn’t actually leave your wallet behind in our shop.”

Customer: “I did.”

Me: *nonplussed* “Eh… you didn’t, though.”

(I describe the scene I just watched, down to the bright green well-known grocery bag carried by her and another carried by her daughter.)

Customer: *still eerily calm and unconcerned* “I left my wallet on your counter.”

(At this point, my supervisor is hovering nearby, watching my incredulous expression intently.)

Me: “You paid for your purchases and put your wallet back in your bag. It’s quite clear on the camera.”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t care what’s on the camera.”

(I hold the phone away from my ear and stare at it like it’s an alien, before covering the receiver and turning to my supervisor.)

Me: “She says she doesn’t care what’s on the camera. I have no idea what to do with that.”

(My supervisor now takes the phone from me, lest my head actually explode. I wander off, shaking my not-yet-exploded head. To this day I’ve never understood quite what happened there.)

(I work at a well known chain store specialized in selling video games. We are situated next to a parking lot, so we often get people that just want to get some change for the parking metre. A customer comes in, already with that guilty look on his face.)

Me: “Hey there! Are you here to get some change?”

Customer: “Well, yeah, how did you know?”

Me: “I guessed from the look on your fa—”

Customer: “Yeah, I guess I’m too well-groomed to be in here.”

(I just gave him his change so he would leave.)