I work for a skincare company. I answer the phone.

Woman: “I found your number in my contacts. Why is it there?”

I take some information from her.

Me: “I have no idea why we’re in your phone, ma’am. I’ve never spoken with you, your phone number has never called our office, and your name is not in our system.”

Woman: “Well… what does your company do?”

I explain the services we offer.

Me: “Is there some skincare concern you’re looking to discuss?”

Woman: “No, not at all. None of that sounds familiar, and I’m not concerned about anything!”

Me: “Then you should probably just delete our number from your phone.”

She got angry that I was not working harder to figure out why SHE put OUR number in HER contacts list.

This happened when I was serving tables about ten years ago, and it’s one of my favorite experiences ever as a server. I went to a table of one during lunch.

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name]; I’ll be your server. Can I get you something to drink to start?”

Customer: “Yeah, can I have a Pepsi?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, but we only have Coke. Is that okay?”

Customer: “Nope.”

And then he stood up and walked out of the restaurant.

I wish I was as sure about anything in my life as he was about wanting a Pepsi with his lunch.

I attend a bi-weekly Book Club through my local library. It’s a (mostly) great group of people, led by a really funny librarian. In the second week of each month, we discuss the book of our choice, and in the fourth week of the month, we finish any discussions and pick the book for the next month. It’s fun and invigorating, and we all love it.

One month, the book we picked is on the long side, and our second week’s meeting barely scratches the surface. We’re enjoying ourselves so much that we make plans to meet at a local cafe and continue the discussion in the third week of the month. Everyone is able to make it except our leader, who has to work.

Everyone shows up, and things start out great. But then, one member takes over. She quickly veers off the topic of the book and into the shopping she and her sister did. The problem is that all the rest of us are just too darn polite to tell her to stay focused. I make one attempt to bring things back to the plot, and an older guy tries a bit later. But that is it. I know, I know, it’s our own fault we let her monologue for a literal half an hour (I timed it) about mushroom-shaped rocks. Yes, that’s right, mushroom-shaped rocks.

At the end of the time in the cafe, the talkative member goes on about how much fun she had and how, “Next time, she’ll host things at her house.” Everyone really does love the book club, so everyone else agrees to meet at her house during what is presumably the first week of next month. I don’t say anything either way. 1) I’m honestly not sure if my schedule is open during that week and 2) I’m not sure I want to deal with her being a hostess.

That evening, I get a down-right hateful email from her.

Member: “I don’t know WHAT your problem is, but I NEVER did anything to you. So CUT THE CRAP!”

Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Member: “Don’t play dumb, you B****! You kept interrupting me all night, and you didn’t confirm you’ll be coming to my house when I host the discussion! I didn’t do anything to you, and I DON’T DESERVE TO BE TREATED LIKE THIS!”

Me: “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if I’ll even be able to come. Calm down, please. It’s nothing personal.”

Member: “NO, NO, I REFUSE TO BE CALM! WHAT YOU DID WAS A CRIME AND I’M GOING TO TREAT IT LIKE A CRIME!”

Yes, she actually called it a crime. Realizing there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t fuel the fire, I just forwarded the whole conversation to our leader librarian and ignored her.

The next week rolled around, and it was the fourth week of the month. Everyone showed up at the library to finish our discussion and pick out the new book — everyone except [Member]. We shrugged it off and continued. 

I came home that night to a furious email — one sent to everyone. [Member] was raging about how we all deliberately stood her up and led her on. Apparently, when she said, “I’ll host next time,” she meant during the fourth week of the month, not the first week of the next. Why she thought everyone would agree to that and leave our leader librarian alone, I have no idea. It wasn’t just me, as everyone except her assumed she meant, “Next time, we’re not meeting at the library,” and that we would attend our usually planned meeting at the library.

[Member] never came back. No tears were shed.

I’m from the UK, and we have a bakery chain that is famed for its sausage rolls, pizza, steak bakes, and donuts. They usually have everything out hot so it’s perfect for a cold day.

I am going on my usual walk to the park near me just to get some fresh air, and I decide to buy some lunch on the way. [Bakery] is warm and cheap, so I decide to go and get a cheese pizza slice and a coffee. It is past the lunch rush, so a lot of the baked stuff is gone, save for two slices of cheese pizza and various other pastry-encased things.

There’s no one in front of me as I go in, and the staff is busy, so I stand at the counter and wait. Another customer walks in shortly after on his phone.

One of the staff gets a minute to take my order.

Me: “A slice of cheese pizza and a regular salted caramel latte, please!”

The other customer looks at me in a slightly offended manner, and I think that maybe he thinks I’m weird for my coffee choice or something until he pipes up:

Customer: “I want that pizza! I always get two pizza slices for my lunch, and now you have just ruined my day. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

This man is probably in his twenties. He is definitely past the age at which he should be throwing tantrums for not getting his way. I’m speechless. I blink back in response, having absolutely no clue as to what I can say back to this man who is throwing a fit over a £1.50 slice of cheese pizza.

Customer: “What do you have to say for yourself?“

Me: “Uh… excuse me? I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done wrong here—”

Customer: “You have just stolen that slice of pizza from me.”

Thankfully, I’m not the only one completely and utterly baffled at this man, as the staff member brings my coffee over and tells the customer:

Staff Member: “Sir, this person has not stolen anything from you. You have not bought that pizza; this young person is about to. Please, calm down.”

She started to ring me up as the customer continued shouting about how unfair it was that he wouldn’t get his two slices of pizza today. I very much enjoyed my legally obtained, unstolen pizza. Get a grip, Pizza Boy.

I’m working in the drive-thru of a bank, which generally has a cash-out limit of $2,000; we have to get approval for amounts over our limit, and this takes time that we don’t like to waste for customers in the drive-thru.

A customer pulls up.

Driver: “I want to take out $3,000. I know that’s more than the limit, but I have someone in the car who shouldn’t come inside.”

Me: “May I ask why that is?”

Driver: *With an added chuckle* “Well, he’s a little crazy.”

My coworkers and I watched as the man in the back seat gave us a straight-up serial killer glare. 

I don’t think he blinked that entire transaction.

It was definitely one of the weirdest, creepiest encounters I’ve had in customer service.