Customer: “Yes, I’d like to place an order for delivery.”

Me: “No problem. Just to let you know, our delivery time right now is approximately one-and-a-half hours tonight. Will that be all right?”

Customer: “Jesus! Why so long?”

Me: “Well, I’m the only one running the store at this time, and I’ve only got one driver. We’re rather busy so it’s creating higher delivery times. I do apologize for the wait, sir.”

Customer: “Well, yeah, I guess I’ll do that.”

(The customer orders and approximately 45 minutes later, calls back.)

Customer: “WHERE THE F*** IS MY FOOD?! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR AN HOUR AND I WAS TOLD IT WOULD BE ONLY 30 MINUTES!”

Me: “Well, sir, I’m sorry for the wait; however, it’s been only 45 minutes and your quoted delivery time was an hour and a half. We will be there within the quoted time.”

Customer: “I JUST TOLD YOU WHAT I WAS QUOTED. ARE YOU TELLING ME I’M LYING?!”

Me: “Sir, I’m the only one here, which means that I took your order. And I told you the estimated delivery time. I apologize for the miscommunication; however, we will be there within the quoted time.”

Customer: “What in God’s name is taking so long?”

Me: “…I AM THE ONLY ONE HERE.”

Customer: “Let me speak to your manager. This is piss-poor service.”

Me: “I am the manager. I am the only person here.”

Customer: “Well, how much longer?”

Me: “The delivery time will rise as you continue to stay on the phone with me, as I cannot prepare pizzas while I am stuck on the phone.”

Customer: *hangs up*

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(I work at my local library as a library assistant.)

Patron: “I accidentally turned in a book that belongs to [Other Library].”

Me: “Sure, what’s the book title?”

Patron: “I Am Responsible.”

Me: *staring a patron in complete silence*

(I find the book, and the great irony is that it’s a child’s book.)

Me: “…Have a good day, ma’am.”

Patron: “Thanks. You, too.”

(I work at a popular chain of plus sized women’s clothing stores. A woman comes in with her son, who looks about eight or so. Our bras are in the back corner of our store. The mother instructs her son to sit on a bench, and has me size her for a bra and then help her figure out what one(s) work best.)

Me: *turns around to show the woman a rack of new bras and sees that her son is no longer on the bench* “Uh, ma’am? Did you have a kid with you?”

Customer: *whips around* “What? Oh, god! [Kid]?! Where are you?” *starts searching the whole store, including under the panty tables and in clothes racks*

Me: *quietly use my walkie to tell the manager a woman’s kid likely ran off somewhere and ask if I should call mall security*

Customer: *starts coming back, looking like she’s either ready to cry or rip my head off because some people think it’s my job to watch their kids*

(The kid suddenly crawls out from underneath a dressing room door, in our leopard corset lingerie (completely fastened, mind you) with his T shirt stuffed into the bra cups and the stocking straps clipped onto his shorts.)

Kid: *clearly very proud of himself* “MOM! I’m Catwoman!”

Me: *goes entirely silent and just stares, at a complete loss as to what to do*

(My manager steps out of back room and then abruptly turns back in, but I can hear him on my walkie earpiece.)

Manager: “I am NOT dealing with that.”

(Things ended up fine. The kid did get scolded for disappearing, but his mother really couldn’t get mad at the corset thing because it was just too funny. Normally, I hate children, but this kid was great. He’s going somewhere in life, I just know it.)

(We sell cigarettes, and you can clearly see them as soon as you walk in the door.)

Customer: “Excuse me; do you guys sell cigarettes here?”

Me: *being humorous, thinking he is as well* “No, we don’t, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. I’ll go somewhere else.”

(As he started to leave, another cashier motioned to the wall of hundreds of cigarettes behind the counter, and lucky us, he found humor in his mistake, as well as we did.)

(We’ve just been alerted by a customer that the ladies’ restroom is out of toilet paper, so we’ve sent one of the cashiers to replace the rolls. Another customer approaches the pickup counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me, there’s no toilet paper in the ladies’ room.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, ma’am. [Other Coworker] is bringing it out right now and she’ll replace it in a moment.”

Coworker: *angrily* “Well, if it takes too long, she’ll have a puddle to clean up on the floor instead!”

(The cashier refilled the paper just a few seconds after that, but the customer still left our corporate office a profanity-laden voicemail about our rudeness.)