(I work for an online retail store. When customers send orders to addresses different from their card, we e-mail them a Word document form. This form requires they fill it out and e-mail it back to us.)

Customer: “I don’t understand. I’ve sent this form to you several times now.”

Me: “Sir, I saw your e-mail, but the form wasn’t attached to it.”

Customer: “Attached? How do you do that?”

Me: “What program or e-mail provider do you use?”

Customer: “I don’t know. I just write e-mails.”

Me: “Well, is your e-mail through Outlook, or is it something in a browser, like AOL, Yahoo, or Gmail?

Customer: “Yahoo.”

Me: “Okay. Well, you need to look for—”

Customer: “Hold up! I don’t even have my e-mail open. Why do I need to do this? I used your program and sent you the file.”

Me: “What program, sir?”

Customer: “Microsoft Office. And now it’s opening a bunch of files! 1, 2, 3, 4…20!”

Me: “Did you click on our file a bunch of times?”

Customer: “No! I just clicked on what you sent me! Your program is really stupid.”

Me: “Sir, that’s not our program. We sent you a document. The program to open it is someone else’s.”

Customer: “Well, your ‘document’ has a virus! There are 20 things on my screen now!”

Me: “It’s not a virus, sir. Just close those windows down, and we’ll start from scratch…”

Customer: *a few minutes later* “There. I filled out the form. You should have it.”

Me: “Sir, did you save it and attach it to the e-mail?”

Customer: “What do you mean? I filled it out! You should have it.”

Me: “You have to save it and attach it to the e-mail.”

Customer: “That’s stupid! Your program should just send it to you!”

Me: “Sir, again, that’s not our program. That is just a Word document that you save your information in.”

Customer: “You should use a program that just lets you fill it out and it sends the information.”

Me: “Sorry, our documents don’t do that.”

Customer: “This is ridiculously complicated. I’m about to cancel my order!”

Me: “If you wish to do that sir, it’s up to you.”

Customer: “I mean, how do you run your business? I have a Master’s in Computer Science! If I can’t figure this out, who could?!”

Me: “Thank you for calling [University]. What can I help you with today?”

Caller: “Yes, hi. I would like to know how to be an alumni. Like, how do I get the alumni membership of this university?”

Me: “Well, ma’am, have you graduated from our university?”

Caller: “No.”

Me: “So you are still attending this university at the moment?”

Caller: “No. I just want the benefits. I can get money off of my insurance, but I need you to make me an alumni officially.”

Me: “Have you ever attended our university?”

Caller: *impatient* “No! Can you just tell me how to do this?”

Me: “Well, an alumni is someone who has graduated with an actual degree from the university. You cannot be an alumni unless you have graduated with a degree.”

Caller: *silent*

Me: “One of our degrees.”

Caller: *still silent*

Me: “Only graduates from our university can have our alumni benefits.”

Caller: “What?!”

Me: “You can’t be an alumni and have those benefits without graduating from here.”

Caller: “What? I just want it for insurance. How come you can’t understand this?!”

(This went on for another fifteen minutes before she gave up!)

(A regular customer approaches me holding up a small blue plastic square.)

Customer: “Do you have these?”

Me: “Oh, is that one of the puppy pads?”

Customer: “No, it’s for my wife.”

(He then proceeds to unfold it. It is one of the large medical pads that go on beds under people suffering from incontinence, which happens to look like a large version of a puppy pad.)

Me: “Oh, yes, sorry, they’re right this way.”

(The customer follows me. When I hand him the product, he claims that is not it and holds the pad closer to me and shows me the other side. An awful smell emits from it. The cotton inside is crumbling from all the human urine it is holding.)

Customer: “NO! I want one of these! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(I stand in shock as he slaps his hand against the urine. He then walks off and I go to inform the manager so they can have the customer remove the item from the store. The worst part? The customer wanders into produce and starts picking through the grapes with his urine-covered hands. We had to compost out the whole grape bin!)

(A middle-aged customer approaches me at checkout.)

Me: “Your total comes to $15.65.”

Customer: “Oh! That’s the year I was born!”

(We close at 10 PM. Ten minutes to closing, I am near the entrance folding clothes when a middle-aged customer walks up.)

Customer: “What time y’all close?”

Me: “We close at 10:00.”

Customer: *looks at the clock, which says 9:50 pm* “Oh, good! That means I have a half hour!”