(I’m the manager in this story. A coworker has answered the phone and has referred the call to me as it is a complaint.)

Caller: “I hope you can do something; that other girl was useless!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear. How can I help?”

Caller: “I bought a coffee and when I got home, I found a button battery in the bottom of the cup! I demand free coffees for life! I could have been killed! Imagine if a child had drunk the coffee; they’d be dead! You’re lucky I don’t sue!”

Me: *confused, as there are no batteries in our store, let alone one that could have slipped into her coffee* “A button battery in your coffee? Can you tell me how you found the battery?”

Caller: “I purchased a coffee from your store, took it home, and reheated it, and when I drank it, there was a button battery in the bottom. I could have died! All I’m asking is free coffee forever; it’s not too much to ask considering I could have been killed!”

Me: “Sorry… How did you reheat your coffee?”

Caller: “Why does that matter? I used the microwave. I COULD HAVE DIED AND YOU’RE NOT WORRIED AT ALL!”

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am. There’s no possible way the battery was in your cup when you bought it.”

Caller: “Are you calling me a liar? I’m going to have you fired! I could have died!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I am calling you a liar.”

Caller: “I AM GOING TO CALL HEAD OFFICE AND HAVE YOU FIRED!”

Me: “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

Coworker: “How are you so sure she’s lying?”

Me: “If she’d put a battery in the microwave, it would have exploded. There’s no way she drank a coffee and found a battery at the bottom!”

(I called head office myself to let them know to expect a crazy woman trying to scam free coffee.)

Related:
About To Get Charged With Battery, Part 7
About To Get Charged With Battery, Part 6
About To Get Charged With Battery, Part 5

(I am a high school teacher, and we had our swimming carnival the other day. The kids get really enthusiastic about their sports houses. They dress in their house colours and bring banners, decorations, and flags. I am supervising and walk past two boys in year seven playing with a flag. One boy is tapping the other one on his shoulders and shouting, “I crucify you!” That catches my attention, and I stop.)

Me: “Hey, boys. That’s a little morbid, don’t you think?”

Flag Boy: “What do you mean, miss?”

Me: “Do you know what it means to crucify someone?”

Boys: *blank looks*

Me: “Crucifying someone is when you nail someone to a piece of wood and hang them up until they die.”

Crucified Boy: “Oh!”

Me: “Crucifying someone is a bit of a dishonourable thing. It looks more like you’re trying to knight each other, like when the queen taps the shoulders of a brave soldier and makes them a ‘sir.’ That is a sign of honour.”

Boys: *comprehension slowly dawning*

Flag Boy: “Wait… I’ve been crucifying people all day!”

(It’s right at closing when a woman brings a pile of curtain fabrics from our discounted table; these are all marked as seconds. As my coworker is measuring they come across some holes in the fabric.)

Customer: “I don’t want those holes; cut that off and start measuring again.”

(Again, they come across some more holes. She makes him cut the fabric again and start a new measurement. There’s not enough for what she wants, so she makes the coworker go with her to bring back more fabrics. I have finally finished serving my last customer when I hear her telling the coworker that she wants her whole house done and wants all the curtains cut to size so he needs to call other stores for her. My coworker turns to me.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s after closing and all of our stores are now closed. We cannot call them now because they won’t answer.”

Customer: “Well, then, we’ll just see what’s here; he can go and look for what I want. I just need to call and find out the window sizes for the house, but the phone’s been busy.”

Me: “You don’t know the window sizes?”

Customer: “No, I’ll just wait until I find out.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to return tomorrow; it’s now too late to do this.”

Customer: “No, I’ll wait.”

Me: “No, you don’t understand. You are parked in the main car park, right?”

Customer: “Yes, so?”

Me: “The centre will completely shut down in a few minutes; the lights will be turned out and the alarm turned on which means you cannot get to the main car park safely. I’ll have to let you out our back door into the dock, and you’ll have to go down the stairs outside and around the whole building to get to the main car park. I don’t want you to have to do that; it’s dark out there and can be dangerous.”

(I don’t think she believes me, but I finally get her to agree to come back the next day, which she never does. I have just managed to pull the doors down and lock three of the doors from the outside before pulling down the final door when the lights in the mall go out. I padlock the final door from the inside.)

Coworker: “Wow, you cut that fine. I thought the alarm was going to beat you.”

(My coworker helps me quickly count the drawers before we finally leave, an hour later than we get paid for. As we drive out of the dock area we notice that there are a bunch of rough-looking men in the dark car park, hanging around the stairs leading from the dock.)

Coworker: “Oh, my God! That woman was lucky not to have to walk through them. I bet she thought you were lying to her just get rid of her.”

Me: “Yeah, I know, but $2-a-metre fabric is not worth putting anyone in danger for.”

(I’m part of the school’s Technical Crew, and I have to set up an information night which was expecting at least 600 parents. I show up early because I have nothing better to do, so the event is all set up and ready to go twenty minutes before the setup was intended to start. So, of course, having finished, I sit down to do homework. The teacher in charge comes in.)

Teacher: *sarcastically* “So, you’re done, are you?”

Me: “Yes, Ms. [Teacher].”

Teacher: “Really? What about the banners?”

(I look at the four banners, in perfect position.)

Me: “Right there.”

Teacher: “The computer?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but whoever has it hasn’t brought it yet.”

Teacher: “You should still be testing to see if it works!”

Me: “How am I going to test it?”

Teacher: “Well, just do your tech crew thing and fiddle around with the electronics!”

Me: “Let me get this straight. You want me to test the projector and audio, without having anything to use to test it?”

Teacher: “Just use your phone.”

Me: “…”

Teacher: “Just plug it in!”

Me: “You do know that an aux cord cannot plug into an HDMI female end, right?”

Teacher: “Uh-huh.”

Me: “Would you plug a USB into a power outlet?”

Teacher: “No, of course not!”

Me: “Well, that’s more or less what you’re asking me to do.”

Teacher: “Fine, then. Sit on your games until we get the laptop.”

(I look at the notebook with writing in it. I look at the pencil in my hand. I look at the PowerPoint open on my iPad.)

Me: “You are seeing this, right?”

Teacher: “You Year 7s think I’m stupid or something?! I know that you’re gaming!”

(She storms off, leaving me wondering how exactly a tall — 180cm — guy like me looks like a kid fresh out of primary school. Later in the evening:)

Teacher: “How are things going?”

Me: “All good, but couldn’t we leave the door open in this room? It’s so hot!”

Teacher: “You’re young. You’ll live.”

Me: “Well, what about the free food that tech crew gets at all long or hard events like this?”

Teacher: “Forget about it! We really need to make a profit!”

(Later on, I checked the sausages. They sold literally hundreds of sausages, running out of sausages that they paid 1 AUD per box and sold for 3 AUD PER SAUSAGE. I never did another event for her again, nor did any of my comrades who were with me.)

(I traveled with my family quite frequently growing up so I am generally well-prepared for going through security, except this one time. I am about fifteen and traveling with my parents. The security agent does all of their checks, passport, liquids, and laptops out, etc., and I have gone through the metal detector.)

Security Agent: “Is this your bag?”

Me: “Yes.”

Security Agent: “I am going to do a search through it.”

(They begin searching through my bag as I rack my brain to figure out what could be in it, and they pull out a small zipper pouch.)

Security Agent: “What do you have in here?”

Me: “String that I am using to make string bracelets…“

(I suddenly clue in to what else is in there right at the same time as he pulls them out: a pair of big kitchen scissors, the only ones I could find at home, which I had been using to cut the string. Cue me turning bright red at being that person in the airport security line.)

Me: “I am so sorry. I totally forgot that those were in there.”

Security Agent: “We are going to confiscate these, but try to be more careful in the future.”

(Thankfully, they realized that it was a genuine mistake and were good about it and didn’t put me on a secondary screening list for life or anything, but my parents, on the other hand, won’t let me live it down.)