I’m stocking a shelf and accidentally drop an empty cardboard box. A customer picks it up before I can get there and gives it back to me, for which I thank him before putting it away.

I’m about to go back to my task when I notice him looking at me.

Me: “Can I help you?”

The customer looks at me and then at the electric buggy we use to transport heavy goods. Our staff uniform is a bright blue polo shirt that no sane person would wear voluntarily. 

Customer: “Do you work here?”

Me: “I’d hope so.”

I work at a print shop/office supply store that serves as a shipping and drop-off location. I’ve finished typing in the sender and receiver information and I’m moving onto the security features. Every shipping has this.

Me: “Would you mind giving a declared value of the contents? We need to know for insurance purposes.”

Customer: “Why do you need to know?”

Me: “For insurance purposes.”

Customer: *Hesitantly* “Let’s say… um… a thousand dollars.”

Me: “All right, and could I get a description of the contents? Just to make sure we aren’t shipping anything illegal or hazardous.”

Customer: “I kind of feel like this is an invasion of my privacy.”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t ship it unless I know what is inside. If it’s documents, you can just say documents; you don’t need to be specific.”

Customer: *Hesitantly again* “Let’s put down… computer.”

We couldn’t ship the computer anyway because of the lithium battery, but I want to ask the third security question.

Me: “Before we can ship this out and have you pay for this label, I’ll need to see a valid ID. We use this for legal purposes and making sure customers are liable for the contents of the package.”

Customer: “Oh, you know, I left my wallet in the car. Could you ship it without my ID?”

It’s suspicious to not bring money in for something he knew he was paying for.

Me: “Sir, we can’t ship this package out unless you pay for it and show me a valid ID.”

Customer: “You know what? This was a s***ty service today. I’ll just go somewhere else for this. I hate my privacy being under attack.”

Me: “Um… okay… You can leave, then.”

I kind of wonder why he was so hesitant to say both $1,000 and a computer. It didn’t even weigh that much, and the size of the package wouldn’t have had room for a desktop or laptop.

I’m a young woman with no piercings or tattoos. My hair is in a ponytail and I’m dressed in my work uniform. I’m working as a cashier and a young man comes up to order. He takes out a notepad, writes on it, and shows me.

Notepad: “Sorry, I’m deaf.”

Immediately, I start to sign to see if he’d rather communicate that way. The young man seems so excited. He starts telling me his order and expresses relief that someone knows how to sign. However, the next thing he asks leaves me in shock, and he rushes out of the store without his food. My coworker notices my disgust.

Coworker: “What was that about?”

Me: “He asked where to get cocaine, as I looked the ‘type.’”

I’m sweeping up some clippings after an afternoon of gardening outside the small front of my house.

A man and two women stroll past, talking jovially, but I can’t understand what they say. Weirdly, they stop a few feet from me. The guy stares at me and then clicks fingers at me.

Man: “What is that?”

He points at me.

Me: “What is what?”

Woman #1: “The watch — what is it?”

Me: “It’s a watch; tells the time.”

I go back to sweeping.

Man: “Let me see.”

He snaps his finger and reaches out his hand.

Me: “Nope.”

I pick up my tools and walk back to the house.

Woman #1: “You come back here! We want to know where you got that from.”

Me: *Lying* “A watch shop. What is it to you?”

Woman #2: “People around here, so rude.”

Me: “Please and thank you will get you far ‘around here.’”

I chalk it down to rudeness, maybe a failed robbery attempt. I put it out of my mind, and I don’t see them around for a few days.

Then, I get a note through my door.

Note: “I want to buy your watch, £5. Not worth any more than that.”

It wasn’t until I checked the local social media pages that I discovered that these three had been approaching people all over the neighbourhood, poking around people’s open garages, and looking in the back of cars. They’d been looking to rip people off, lying about the value of things and trying to buy cheap.

It turns out that they did me a favour in a way; I got the watch valued and it was worth way more than I thought. I still have it, but I don’t wear it to do the gardening anymore!

I work at an inbound call center for real estate-related stuff. It’s 2018, after hours at around 7:00 pm. Two of us are in the office on shift — the current shift supervisor and me — and the third operator, [Coworker], working their shift from home.

Anyways, I notice that [Coworker] has been on a call for over fifteen minutes. A fifteen-minute call is incredibly rare for our call center; usually, anything beyond a five-minute call is considered long for us. I’m wondering what the heck is going on, but of course, I can’t tell because [Coworker] is taking the call from their home and not in our office, so I can’t overhear it.

But then, [Coworker] calls [Supervisor] and explains to them that they’re dealing with a very difficult and delusional woman, and she wants to speak with a supervisor.

[Supervisor] takes over the call and is greeted by a very angry lady who’s just about at her limit.

Supervisor: “This is [Supervisor] from [Business]; how can I help you?”

Caller: “I live at [apartment address], and there’s a cat in here!”

Supervisor: “There’s a cat in your home?”

Caller: “Yes. I was out and now I’m back home and there’s a cat in my apartment. Who was in here?!”

Callers often think that our call center is the real estate or property management, but our call center is actually a middleman that takes messages for busy real estate companies and agents and passes them along.

Supervisor: “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure who would’ve been in your apartment. I’ll need to pass along a message to [Property Management Company], and they’ll need to give you a call back. May I please have your name and phone number?”

Caller: “I’m not giving you s***! I want to know who was in my apartment! Somebody broke in and left their cat in here!”

Supervisor: “Ma’am, if someone broke into your apartment, you should call 911.”

The caller makes some confused, angry noises.

Supervisor: “This is just the call center for [Property Management Company]. As I mentioned, I would have to send a message to them for them to give you a call back. Maybe they’d know who was in your apartment.”

Caller: “I just need to know who was in my apartment and whose d*** cat this is!”

Supervisor: “Are you missing anything? Does it look like your door was broken into?”

Caller: “No, nothing is missing. And nothing is wrong with my door!”

Supervisor: “Did you have any open windows while you were out?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Supervisor: “It’s entirely possible that the cat could’ve came in through your window.”

Caller: “No! That’s ridiculous! Somebody was in my apartment!!”

Supervisor: “Did the cat pass by your feet as you were walking through the door?”

Caller: “Somebody broke into my apartment, and I need to know who! If you aren’t going to help me, I’m filing a complaint against you and [Coworker]!”

Supervisor: “Call 911. If someone breaks into your home, you call the police, not a real estate company.”

[Supervisor] is trying not to laugh but it’s getting hard to contain it and the caller hears.

Caller: “Somebody broke into my apartment and you’re laughing?! Say goodbye to your job! I’m filing a complaint.” *Hangs up*

I’ve worked in that call center for four years to this date, and while there have been some pretty crazy calls while I’ve been working there, this one takes the cake. However, I still can’t imagine what those fifteen minutes of h*** must’ve been like for [Coworker] before [Supervisor] took over.