I’m a warehouse division manager for a company. A very well-known brand for dishwasher detergents is our customer, and the customer’s supply chain manager complains that the trucks cannot reach our warehouse due to rain. The warehouse is uphill and she insists that the road is not good.

By luck, I’m already in the warehouse and the truck she mentioned is in the warehouse unloading, so there are actually no issues. I call the customer.

Me: “Truck is here; no worries. We will meet the deadline.”

Customer: “No, it’s not there. I just talked with the transporter and they said they cannot drive on that f****** road.”

Me: “Sorry, I really don’t get where the information is getting mixed up, but the driver is here.”

I hand over the phone to the driver.

Driver: “Yes, I’m at the warehouse.”

Customer: “You are lying! The truck is not there, and we will be late for the delivery.”

Me: “Here is a photo of the truck in the warehouse; I just shared it with you in your email. Can you check, please?”

Customer: “Yes, I can see. This is probably an older photo. I will reach out to your boss and complain about you.”

Me: “Well, as you wish!”

The truck was unloaded, nothing was delayed, and the next day, the supply chain manager of the company behaved as if nothing had happened. She was famous for being abusive in the logistics industry.

And she was promoted to a regional job. 

I left the position and left the company. No money is enough for this kind of pressure.

My favorite theatre company was doing a show that I really wanted to see, and tickets were selling fast. My partner and I were able to snag two of the last tickets in what ended up being a sold-out house. The seats were not together, but that was all that was left, so we figured we’d just hang out at intermission. It wasn’t ideal, but we were okay with it.

When the day of the show rolled around, we waited in the will-call line to pick up our tickets. The people ahead of us were complaining about something and it was taking a long time to sort out. I wasn’t paying too much attention, but the box office staff seemed confused, the patrons were frustrated, a manager was called, strings were pulled, something finally got resolved, and then it was our turn.

Partner: “I’m picking up two tickets for [Partner]. I know they’re not adjacent seats, but that’s okay.”

The box office person had a look of dawning realization.

It turned out the patron who was complaining for so long ahead of us had the exact same first and last name as my partner, was given our tickets, and was upset that the seats weren’t together. No one had caught that there were two parties of two under the same relatively common name. The box office had already shifted something around for the other guy, and he was long gone, so we got to take his seats, which were together and significantly closer to the stage.

Sorry, other [Partner’s Name], and thank you! The show was amazing!

I am waiting on a large group of about twenty people. Everything is going smoothly while I take the order and deliver the food. After giving them a few minutes, I go back to the table and ask how everything is. Most of the table murmurs pleasantly and nods their heads, but one woman raises her hand and I walk closer to where she is sitting.

Me: “Is there a problem with your food, or something I can get for you?”

Woman: “My and my husband’s steaks are cold in the center. Could you put them back on the grill to heat them up more? I think they sat too long with such a big group.”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. The health department won’t let us put them back on the grill, but I will get new orders made for you. The steaks are medium rare, correct?”

Man: “That’s right. Thanks.”

I take their plates, too, and ask the cooks to remake the food.

Grill Cook: “Those didn’t sit at all other than letting them rest for a minute. Are you sure they wanted them medium rare?”

Me: “I double-checked before coming back. I’ll take them right from the grill. Maybe they just don’t usually rest their steaks, so they are used to being warmer.”

The food is remade, and I have the steaks on the table less than a minute from being taken off the grill. The couple thanks me. I get refill orders from the table and check back in with the couple.

Me: “How are the steaks?”

Woman: “They are still cold in the center; we would like them remade again.”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I will go get that going for you.”

Back in the kitchen, I order the third set of steaks.

Cook: “It’s not possible to get them any hotter and still be medium rare.”

Me: “I know. Will you make them medium instead? Maybe that will work.”

I bring out the food, and this time I wait for them to check it. They immediately send it back for being cold.

Cook: “If they want another steak, I’m going to make it well done.”

Me: “That’s fine. Honestly, I don’t think they know what they are ordering.”

I bring the fourth set of steaks straight from the grill, cooked well done. I get a few dessert orders from the group while the couple checks their steaks. Before I go back to the kitchen, I check with the couple.

Man: “These steaks are still too cold! Do I need to go back there and show your cook how to get a hot steak?”

Throughout the whole process, the couple has been very polite. This slightly frustrated outburst is pretty mild compared to how most people get after sending their food back even once.

Me: “I’m sorry. I will get them made again.”

To the kitchen!

Me: “[Cook], I’m sorry.”

Cook: “How are they still complaining that they’re cold? I’m not wasting another steak on them. Did they bite them at all?”

Me: “No, they just cut into them and touched the center.”

Cook: “Good, give them back.”

I hand her the plates, and she takes the steaks and drops them into the deep fryer. I get the dessert order rung in, and as the desserts are finishing up, the cook pulls the steaks out of the deep fryer. They no longer look like food.

Cook: “Here. If they still are not happy, tell them that’s too bad. I am not going to make anything else for them.”

I don’t want to bring out the burnt hockey pucks, but I already told the couple I would bring them out new food, so I do so reluctantly. I set down the steaks first and then distribute the desserts to the rest of the table.

Me: “How are the steaks this time?”

Man: “Absolutely wonderful! This is the best steak I have ever had.”

Woman: “Yes! Why couldn’t they have done this the first time?”

Me: “I’m not sure, but I’m so glad we were able to get that figured out for you.”

Woman: “Please send our compliments to the chef. I’m sure it was a difficult process, but at least now they know how to make a decent steak. I’m sure it will be a valuable lesson going forward. Since everyone else is eating dessert already, can we order ours to go?”

I would like to share with you the story of the absolute dumbest would-be thief I have ever met.

I work in one of those booths in the middle of a mall. I was approached by a person who was definitely a few fries short of a combo meal, as you will soon read. He poked around, chose two items, put them on the counter, and asked about discounts.

Me: “I’m not the owner, but I can do some negotiation.”

Man: “Well, if you’re not the owner, can you look the other way so I can pocket these?”

It was everything I could do to not open a can of whoop-a** on him right then and there. The pure, unmitigated gall! 

I wanted to say, “Are you stupid?!”

I actually said:

Me: “Sure, but you have to leave your ID and I have to call the cops.” 

He left very quickly after that. I have no idea if this was a dumb TikTok trend at the time or what, but I have never had someone (before or since) blatantly ask me to look the other way so they could steal.

The organization I work for has files on mostly everyone in the province, myself included. Accessing one’s own file is absolutely forbidden and will invariably result in being very promptly terminated.

I had someone transfer a call to me (which automatically made me access the relevant personal file) from a man who shared my first and last name and my year of birth.

I nearly had a heart attack before it occurred to me that it wasn’t possible for a colleague to have pulled up my file and selected me specifically to receive the transfer — and that the full date of birth was different.