Working in a bookshop, I will occasionally get a very, very vague request, somewhere along the lines of “The cover was blue,” “It had a dog and the dog died,” and so forth. This particular customer told us that he had read the book in high school, and it was about a guy who had lost part of his soul in a ritual and was kicked out of a magic academy, only to gain his soul back in an epic battle in the end. I was delighted because I knew exactly what book he meant.

Me: “Oh, you mean [Book #1]!”

Coworker #1: “No, isn’t it [Book #2]? I swear it was [Book #2].”

Me: “Are you sure? It sounds exactly like [Book #1].”

Coworker #2: “What book are you talking about? It sounds familiar.”

The customer explains again.

Coworker #2: “Oh! That’s [Book #3]! Let me show you.”

Customer: “The cover had a man with a stopwatch or pocket watch on it, I think.”

Me: “It sounds exactly like [Book #1]!”

Coworker #1: “It sounds exactly like [Book #2]!”

Coworker #2: “It sounds exactly like [Book #3]!”

Customer: “I guess it’s a popular plot or something. No one else has known, either. I’ll go try some other shop, I guess.”

Me: “Please, let us know when you do find it! Have a good day!”

We have a wager going for the book. The prize is a cookie from the café next door.

I’m sitting in a restaurant, having ordered one of the only vegetarian options on the menu, a burger which consists of salad, sauce, a big flat mushroom, and a slice of halloumi cheese. Just as we’re finishing, I overhear the following exchange at the table next to me.

Customer: “I’ll have your vegan burger, please.”

The server looks a bit confused but politely points out what we had already noticed: that the only vegan option on the menu is a curry. This isn’t ideal, so I do feel a bit bad for the customer, but the exchange continues.

Customer: “That’s all right, I’ll just have the vegetarian burger. Just make it vegan for me; I’m sure you can do that.”

Customer’s Partner: “Dear, don’t forget to check about the bun.”

Customer: “Oh, yes, can you see if the bun is vegan?”

The server looks even more confused but promises to go away and find out. I look down at my delicious burger, full of very non-vegan cheese and garlic aioli, but the bun seems to be a seeded one, so perhaps she’ll be all right… I think. A few minutes later, the server comes back. Bad luck: unfortunately, the bun also has milk in. The customer is not happy.

Customer: “Well, look, you can do something for me with that, can’t you? Just give me the patty and some salad or something, no bread? Hmm?”

Server: “But the burger—”

The customer is clearly losing patience and speaks with a sarcastic tone to her voice.

Customer: “Come now. This will have to do. Just talk to your chef and get it sorted for me. I’m sure he’s smart enough to work this out.”

The server hurriedly retreated. There was no patty in the vegetarian burger, something extremely obvious from the menu. I felt sorry for the server and the chef! I was pleased to be able to leave before the customer’s food arrived; I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her reaction to a single mushroom resting on some salad leaves.

Customers who are eating in order and pay at the counter, and then we bring their food to the table. My coworker takes an order for three toast sandwiches, just before I start serving a lady who is ordering one fresh sandwich. My customer pays and then leaves to sit down, while I quickly make her sandwich and take it out to her. When I reach her table, she is sitting with three other people.

Me: “Your sandwich, ma’am.”

Another man at the table speaks up.

Male Customer: “That’s not toasted!”

Me: “The lady didn’t ask for it toasted.”

My Customer: “I didn’t want it toasted.”

Male Customer: “But we ordered before her!”

Me: “Yes, sir, but yours are toasting.”

He shut up.

I worked at a boutique hotel in Sydney where I dealt with A LOT of bulls***.

Customer: “I’d like to book a room for two hours for myself and my partner.”

Me: “You’ll have to book for a full night.”

He became extremely irate, screaming at me and then hanging up and calling back again, still screaming.

I was trying to organize multiple bookings as it was a busy day. I kept my cool for as long as I possibly could. I’m a VERY patient individual.

He called back one last time, still yelling, and this time his partner was screaming in the background. I lost it. As calmly as I possibly could, but with a firm tone, I said:

Me: “Sir, with all due respect this is a professional hotel, not a f****** brothel.”

He hung up and never called back. My manager and I laughed our a**es off.

I live in a government-owned block of flats which houses only elderly people. About a year ago, I was attacked by a resident who is known to be a drug abuser and has attacked and hospitalised a number of residents of the complex and outsiders during what appear to be drug-induced psychotic episodes.

He tried to kill me, and he might have done so if a young visitor to the complex had not interfered and prevented it. I was very badly traumatised and have never really recovered from the incident. 

I contacted the Housing Department urging that my attacker be evicted for the safety of all the residents.

Me: *On the phone* “He tried to kill me! He should be evicted for all our safety.”

Bureaucrat: “Well, we can’t evict him unless it is for something serious.”

Me: *Nonplussed* “You mean that him trying to kill me isn’t something serious?”

Bureaucrat: *Obviously not paying attention* “Not unless he actually killed you.”

Me: “…”