(I am working on a specific out-of-hours phone line for house maintenance and repairs on Christmas Eve. It is about four pm and one of the last calls of the day. I have already let the customer know that calls are recorded.)

Customer: “There’s a pipe under my sink and if I touch the bolt it is going to leak.”

Me: “I’m afraid we only deal with uncontainable leaks during out of hours, sir.”

Customer: “But it’s going to leak if I touch it!”

Me: “Sir, if it is not already leaking I cannot send an engineer out to you. Sorry about that.”

Customer: “Erm, okay, then, it’s leaking now.”

Me: *following my script* “Okay, and is the leak currently containable?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “I do apologise, sir, we only deal with uncontainable leaks during out of hours.”

Customer: “Then it IS uncontainable. My kitchen is flooding!”

Me: “Okay, I can get an engineer out to you but I would like to remind you that calls are recorded so you may be charged if this is not the case.”

(The caller hung up straight away.)

This story is part of our Christmas 2023 roundup!

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(In the shop I work in we sell international postcard stamps in strips of five. We don’t have single stamps. After a couple of years working here, I have a whole explanatory spiel that I go into to pre-empt the most common questions about the stamps.)

Customer: “Excuse me, do you have a stamp for one postcard?”

Me: “I’m afraid not. We only sell international stamps in strips of—”

(The customer suddenly glares at me and interrupts my spiel.)

Customer: “’I am afraid,’ you say. You are not afraid! I am afraid…”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, sir…”

(He wandered off, muttering under his breath in what sounded like German.)

(I work at a presidential home, and in our gift shop we have a fandex that lists all the presidents to date. As I was ringing up a customer, this happened.)

Woman: *looking at the fandex* “George Washington wasn’t a president!”

Me: *struggles to keep a straight face as she argues about this with her companion and eventually comes to the conclusion that she meant Benjamin Franklin*

This story is part of our Presidents Day 2024 roundup!

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(I work in a busy sandwich shop in a retail centre. It’s relatively quiet when a man and his two sons enter. They are regulars, but are usually rude. The father ignores us and plays with his phone while the kids order.)

Me: “And what salad would you like?”

Son #1: *reels off salads* “…and onions. And [burger sauce].”

Me: *wraps his sandwich for him and hands it over before moving on*

(A few minutes after the father has paid, he storms back to the counter with Son #1’s sandwich.)

Father: “There are onions in here. He cannot eat onions. He is allergic!”

Me: *worried about the allergy* “I’m so sorry! Do you need me to call emergency services?!

Father: “What? No. He’s just allergic!”

Me: *I’m confused, but relieved more than anything* “Okay, I’m very sorry! I’ll make you a new one straight away.”

(I make the new sandwich as before, and ask the boy over to tell me his salad items again.)

Son #1: *reels off his salads* “And onion.”

Me: *hesitates* “I’m sorry, but your father asked me not to add onions.”

Father: *from other side of restaurant* “NO ONIONS!”

Son #1: *sighs* “Fine. But I want the [burger sauce]!”

Me: “I’m afraid that sauce has onions—”

Father: “NO ONION!”

Me: “—is there anything else I can offer you?”

Son #1: “I just want the d*** [burger sauce]!”

Father: *storms up to counter* “He can have the sauce!”

Me: “The [burger sauce] contains onions so I’m not comf—”

Father: “Just give him the sauce!”

Me: *shrugs and puts the sauce on, adding extra when asked before wrapping the sandwich up*

Father: *snatches sandwich before I can bag it* “No onion! Was that so hard to understand?” *storms off again*

(They spent the rest of their meal glaring at me while I worked and left their mess all over the table, including the original sandwich they rejected. When I went to clean up, I find all of the onion had been removed from the sandwich and was nowhere to be seen.)

(I work in a pet store that does not sell live mice for food, only as pets. There’s plenty of other pet stores around us that do sell feeder mice that we send people to if they need feeder mice. We’re strict about this but customers regularly will lie to try and get mice anyway. A customer who’s tried buying our mice for snake food before comes in, this time with a young daughter.)

Customer: “Where are your mice? I wanna buy one for my little girl.”

Me: “I’ll show you them, but this is actually for a pet, right?”

Customer: “Yeah, it’s a pet. That’s what you want, right, honey?”

(The customer’s daughter nods. I start to explain their care while I open up the cage so the daughter can hold them and pick out a mouse.)

Me: “Make sure you wash your hands after holding them. We just treated for fleas.”

Customer: “What does that mean?”

Me: “Well, because our area has a big flea problem all our furry animals get flea medication put on them. It’s safe, but you don’t really want it in your mouth.”

Customer: “So, uh… it’s like poison?”

Me: “Yes, but it’s safe.”

Customer: “I don’t want poison in the tank… How long does it take to wear off?”

Me: “Well, we just treated them a few days ago so about a month. I’m sorry, tank?”

Customer: “Yeah, so, I’m just gonna go somewhere else. I can’t believe you’re trying to kill my snake!”

Me: “We’ve told you before we don’t sell them for snake food. You said it was a pet.”

Customer: “Yeah, because if I told you it was for a snake you wouldn’t sell it!”

Me: “Part of why we wouldn’t sell it is because it would kill your snake.”

Customer: “Well, maybe you shouldn’t put poison on them?”

Me: “It’s not a problem when they aren’t being used for snake food.”

Customer: “But what about if people buy them for snake food?”

Me: “Then it’s their fault for lying to us.”

Customer: “But otherwise you won’t sell the d*** mouse!”

(He stormed out with his daughter.)