Customer: “I want to complain about your meter readers. They didn’t come in the period they were supposed to.”

Me: “Okay, let me check… So, your scheduled read date was March 22, plus or minus two business days. Our records show the readers attended on March 25 but the gate was locked.”

Customer: “Of course it was. That’s outside of the window.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but it isn’t; the 25th is two business days after the 23^rd.”

Customer: “NO. Where it says plus or minus two business days, that means it’s one day either side, two extra business days, up to three business days total. What are you, stupid?”

Me: “I’m afraid that’s not the case. Plus or minus two business days means it can be up to two business days either side, a total of five business days.”

Customer: “NO, IT DOESN’T! IT NEVER MEANS THAT! ARE YOU STUPID?!”

Me: “Ma’am, out of curiosity, what would you assume it meant if we’d written plus or minus one business day?”

(Long silence.)

Customer: “F*** YOU!” *click*”

(I’m an assistant manager at a 24-hour burger place and currently work overnights.)

Me: “Thank you for choosing [Burger Place]. My name is [My Name]. May I take your order?”

Customer: “Do y’all do fraps?”

Me: “Yes. Mocha and Caramel.”

Customer: “What about something like a White Chocolate frap?”

Me: “Nope. Sorry, but this is [Burger Place], not Starbucks.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Why is this not Starbucks?”

Customer: “If you’re going to advertise fraps, you should do better than f***ing Mocha and Caramel.”

Me: “Um… sorry?”

Customer: “Don’t say sorry. How can we make this right?”

Me: “Um… you can go to Starbucks?”

Customer: “Look a**-hole. Starbucks is closed and I want a White Chocolate frap. Now are you going to make me one or not?”

Me: “Nope.”

Customer: “I’m calling corporate.”

Me: “Be my guest. They’ll just tell you the same thing I did.”

Customer: “F*** you, a**hole.” *speeds through the drive-thru and flips me off as he passes the window*

(I am trans-masculine and have been on testosterone for about eight months. Our company has a service that allows us to serve clients via the Internet, so all they know is the name of the person serving them. One such client calls in. I pick up the phone upon being told he’s one of mine.)

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

Client: “Hi, [My Name]! You don’t sound like a woman!”

(I don’t say anything, thinking this is just an offhand observation. He doesn’t say anything either. It becomes clear this is something he expects me to actually address.)

Me: “Uh-huh?”

Client: “Oh, now you do! So anyway…”

(I was up-talking that last time.)

Customer: “I have a return.”

Me: “Okay!”

Customer: *slaps down box with “[Tax Software] FOR WINDOWS” on front*

Me: “It’s been opened…”

Customer: “I put it in my computer and it didn’t work.”

Me: “Was there something wrong with the disc?”

Customer: *becoming irate* “No! I can’t use it in my computer!”

Me: “Why can’t—”

Customer: “I have a Mac!”

(When we explain we can’t return open software unless it is defective, he becomes angry, declares we have lost his business, and storms out.)

Me: *to manager* “He says he’s never shopping here again.”

Manager: *in a sad, dead voice* “He’ll be back next tax season. They always come back.”

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “Potatoes, please.”

Me: “What kind?”

Customer: “I want potatoes.”

Me: “We have French and curly fries, hash browns, and wedges. Which would you like?”

Customer: “Poh-tate-ooohhhs.”

(I scoop up some French fries and show it to the customer.)

Me: “These?”

Customer: “Yes! Potatoes!”