(I work for myself as a children’s entertainer, advertising mostly by word of mouth. I receive an email asking for a quote.)

Customer: “Hi! [Parent I have worked with] gave me your info. I’m looking for a quote for my little princess’s fourth birthday. How much are you?”

Me: “Hello, [Name from email address], thanks for reaching out! I need a few more details to give you an accurate quote:

1) What day and time is your daughter’s party?
2) How many little guests do you expect to be there?
3) Where will the party take place?
4) What services are you interested in? I do balloon twisting, glitter tattoos, face painting, and a limited number of character interactions.

Talk to you soon!”

Customer: “Wow! I didn’t know you’d be so invasive! How did you know my name? I’m not telling you where I live! Just give me a quote!”

(After blinking at my screen for a few minutes I shake my head and try again.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I assumed your email was your name. My apologies for startling you. I need to know generally where the party is to see if mileage charges apply, and when it is to see if I’m already booked. I don’t need your exact address if you’re having the party at your residence; nearby major cross streets would work to get you an accurate quote. Thanks again for the opportunity to make your child’s birthday a little more special!”

Customer: “Main and 1st.”

(My eye is now sporadically twitching, but business slows down in summer due to the crushing heat and I could use the money. After a deep breath, I reply:)

Me: “Fantastic news! You’re well within my standard radius, so no mileage fees will apply. I just need to know the day and time you’re looking to book me, how many kids I’ll be working with, and which of my services you’re most interested in. Just a heads up: if you’ve hired a bounce house, I likely will not be able to face paint, as it’s against the bounce house company’s policy.”

Customer: “Don’t worry about who or what else I’ve hired. You are very unprofessional! I just want a f****** quote and you’re taking forever! I’ve wasted an hour of my life with you now! For f***’s sake! This Saturday at three pm, for an hour. And, you had better give me a discount for this horrid service!”

(I glance at my weather app and see that it’s going to be nearly 115° at that time. My balloons require indoor space under 95°, and most private-at-home birthday parties are backyard events. My suited characters don’t perform in that heat, either.)

Me: “I am available to face paint and/or do glitter tattoos on Saturday! Yay! It’s unfortunately projected to be too hot to offer balloon animals or character meet-and-greets. My minimum booking for just face painting is for two hours at $100 an hour. Usually glitter tattoos are an additional charge, but to make the day extra special I’ll throw in a dozen free glitter tattoos for the birthday girl and eleven of her closest friends. I will need a ten by ten flat space to set up my canopy unless you have shade, table, and chairs provided. If you would like to book me, please fill out and return the attached contract. Once I have received the deposit and signed contract, we’re all set!”

Customer: “I only want an hour. I’m only paying for one hour! And $100 is outrageous! It’s only thirty kids; it shouldn’t take you two hours!”

(I’m now full-on headdesking. Industry average for face painting is twelve to fifteen kids an hour. My rates aren’t the cheapest in the city, but I’m far from the top earners, and my work is solid, I’m insured, and I only use top-quality supplies. This is exactly why I always ask how many kids there are, not how long the parents think I’ll need to get to everyone. Two minutes per kid to pick what they want, sit down, get painted, and admire themselves in the mirror just isn’t reasonable. At this point, I pretty much want to just write her off but, again, I could really use the money. Without much hope, I try again.)

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, but my rates and timeframe are both very fair. I average ten to fourteen faces an hour, so getting to all thirty kids in only two hours will be very challenging. I do want to help make your little one’s birthday as special as possible and work with your budget, so I’ll make you a deal. For my usual two-hour rate I’ll guarantee all thirty kids get painted, even if it takes another hour. I’ll bring a sign-in sheet to make sure everyone gets painted while still enjoying the party. I hope this works for you; if not I hope it’s a fun filled day, anyway!”

Customer: “So, if my nieces and nephews show up, too, you won’t paint them?! I can’t believe [Parent I have worked with] recommended such a shady, rude person! I’m going to tell everyone I know that you’re a selfish, horrible person!”

(The next day, the parent who originally referred me reached out and apologized for their friend. The customer showed the complete email chain as evidence of how “rude” I was in a Facebook group, and is apparently now the laughing stock of her mommies group.)

(I am working the customer service desk on a slow night at a popular baby store.)

Me: “Hi! Welcome to [Baby Store]! Do you need help finding anything today?”

Customer: “Yes, I’d like to return this.”

(The customer brings around a baby swing.)

Me: “I don’t recall seeing this product on our floor. Let me see if it came from us.”

(I scan it and it says the UPC is not found.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, it looks like this didn’t come from us.”

Customer: “Well, this is your shipping label, and I need to return this.”

Me: “Okay. When was it purchased and do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No, I don’t have a receipt! I purchased it seven years ago, and need to return it.”

Me: “Unfortunately, ma’am, this product has been out of our computer system for so long that it doesn’t recognize the UPC as an item from our store. Your best bet would be selling it on eBay to at least get some money out of it.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I would like to speak to your manager.”

(I call my manager up, and she tells her the exact same thing I did. The lady grabs her swing and swears she’s never coming back. The look on my manager’s face is priceless.)

Manager: “She kept that thing for seven years and thought she could just return it? Some people.”

(My mom gets a coupon for a restaurant that states if you buy one entree you get the other free. It’s Wednesday, and my mom and I decide to use the coupon. As we walk in, we see several signs stating that they offer one free slice of pie to all customers on Wednesdays. We show our coupon to the waitress and order our meals. When we are both almost done with our entrees, the waitress comes back.)

Waitress: *without any explanation* “What slices of pie did you two want?”

Me: “We’ll just share a slice of the French silk pie.”

(My mother and I don’t like pie that much, but hey, it’s free. She brings it out, and after she walks away I notice there is some hard crusty food stuck to my fork. We use my mom’s fork, instead, and each take a bite and decide we don’t like it. The waitress comes back with the bill ,and we notice that one of the entrees wasn’t taken off.)

Mom: “Excuse me? One of the entrees should be free; we have a coupon.”

Waitress: “I can only apply one discount. You chose the free pie discount, instead.”

Mom: “What? You didn’t explain to us that if we ordered the pies we couldn’t use the discount. We thought that was something separate.”

Waitress: “Well, I’m sorry but you got the pie; there’s nothing I can do for you.”

Mom: “We wouldn’t have ordered the pie if we had known we couldn’t get the free entree. We both only took a bite!”

Waitress: “You’ll have to go up front and speak to the manager if you want to dispute your bill.”

(We go and explain the situation.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, but it says in the fine print of the coupon that it can not be used with any other discounts.”

Me: “We didn’t know the free pie was a discount; we thought it was just a weekly special.”

Mom: “We didn’t even like the pie. Can you please just comp us?”

Manager: “I’m sorry, but—”:

Me: “Look. The fork I was given had food on it. It wasn’t even clean. I didn’t want to make a fuss, but this is ridiculous. Can you please just take the pie off the bill and let us use the coupon?”

Manager: “All right, I’ll take it off the bill. Ma’am, I’m sorry you didn’t read the fine print, but I will not tolerate you making up lies about my staff to get what you want.”

Me: *speechless*

Mom: “Just let me pay for my entree. We won’t be coming back.”

(The manager silently fixed the bill, and my mom and I paid and left without another word. Now when my mom gets coupons for that restaurant in the mail they go straight in the garbage.)

(I work in an optician’s office. A coworker and I are standing behind the counter when a bewildered-looking woman opens the door and, without taking a step into the office, asks:)

Customer: “Do you discriminate?”

Me: “Against what?”

Customer: *slowly, as if that would help* “Do you discriminate?”

Coworker & Me: *in unison* “Against what?”

(She looks very confused and agitated.)

Customer: “Do you give eye exams?”

Me: “We do.”

Customer: “Where are the exams given?”

(We indicate the exam lane at the back of the store.)

Customer: “Oh, I can’t come in there. Too many mirrors!”

(After she scurries off, my coworker and I look at each other.)

Me: “Looks like we do discriminate… against people with mirror phobias.”

(I work at a call center for one of the largest pharmacy companies nationwide. Sadly, this is a relatively new practice, and people aren’t always happy to be routed to a call center when they’re calling their local pharmacy. Some are familiar enough with the process and ask to be routed directly to the pharmacy. We have to follow the same script every time and ensure if we can help the callers before transferring them.)

Me: “Hello, this is [Pharmacy], [My Name] speaking. How may—”

Caller: “Just get me over to the pharmacy. I got cut off.”

(Realizing she’s already frustrated, I start the process and scroll down the list of departments so that my cursor is hovering over pharmacy.)

Me: “Okay. Are you sure I can’t—”

Caller: “No, just transfer me.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. Just remember that you may have to repeat—”

Caller: “Shut up and transfer me!”

Me: *caught off guard by her rudeness* “Oh, wow…”

Caller: “No, none of this. I don’t want to talk to you. Just transfer me, okay?! Just do it!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am.”

(I scrolled down a bit more and transferred her directly to the pharmacist’s voicemail. Really, I hope she got through, eventually, but I had to wonder if she was actually cut off or if someone had hung up on her. I can’t imagine why.)