(I’m waiting in line at a small convenience store and witness this interaction between a customer and the cashier. Note that this entire conversation happens with absolutely no inflection or tone in either of their voices, just completely monotonous.)

Cashier: “Hey.”

Customer: “Hey.”

(The cashier takes a few seconds to scan his items.)

Cashier: “Donate?”

Customer: “Same.”

(“Same as usual,” I guess?)

Cashier: “I forgot.”

Customer: “Two.”

(The cashier chooses a $2 donation.)

Cashier: “Card.”

Customer: *swipes card*

(The cash register takes a few seconds to run the transaction.)

Cashier: *holding up the receipt and a bag* “Want?”

Customer: “Nah. Bye.”

Cashier: “Bye.”

(I walk up to the register, and it looks like the cashier flips a switch suddenly.)

Cashier: *to me* “Hi, how are you today? Did you find everything?”

Me: “I’m fine, but what was up with that guy? Do you know him or something?”

Cashier: “Oh, he’s a regular that comes in almost every day. He’s not one for small talk, and I usually prefer not to make conversation if I can help it, so we decided to just be as blunt as possible. It lets him do his own thing faster, and it helps me get out of my nice, friendly cashier personality for a few minutes.”

(10/10, would buy things there again, if only for the antisocial cashier!)

(I work in an independently-owned textbook store. We only sell textbooks, and only specific textbooks that professors order through us. A LOT of people have a problem understanding this. It is in between semesters so we have very, very little in stock at the moment. A customer has called to check if a book is in stock.)

Customer: “Do you have this book, [Textbook]? Yes, please let me know if you have it in stock. Yes, it is [Textbook] by [Author].

Me: “Unfortunately, we do not have that in stock right now. Sorry.”

Customer: “Yes. Tell me where I will get this book. I need [Textbook] by [Author], edition number 10, from [year]. Yes, you will tell me where I can get this.”

Me: “Well, I know none of our other stores have it in stock right now. Did you try [Local College’s school store]?

Customer: “This business is closed for two days. Where else can I get this book, [Textbook]? Tell me where else.”

Me: “I’m not sure, sir. Have you tried [Other Big Box Store that sells textbooks]?”

Customer: “Yes. You want to help me because I am a customer, and so, yes you need to tell me where to get this book. Yes, you are ignoring me and you need to help me.”

Me: “Sir, I’m not ignoring you; I just don’t have thi—”

Customer: “I want to speak with your manager.”

Me: “I am the manager, sir.”

Customer: “No. I want to speak to a manager. You are ignoring me. Sometimes you people just ignore your customers, but I need this book and you need to help me because I am a customer and you should want to help me.”

Me: “Um… Did you try [Yet Another Big Box Store]?”

Customer: “Yes. Why are you not helping me?! I am your customer and you need to tell me where this book is.”

(He keeps interrupting me to rant on about how I am ignoring him and how he is my customer and needs this book and I should be helping him. I am obviously getting a bit irritated as, at this point, he is not technically MY customer and I have tried to help him as best I can, even suggesting the bigger stores that are running my company out of business.)

Customer: “Tell me if [College store that apparently is closed] has this for me.”

Me: “I can’t look that up for you, sir. You could try calling their other branch.”

Customer: “Yes, then tell me [Other Branch] has this book. Yes, you will do this.”

Me: “I can’t, sir; I don’t work there. You’d have to call them.”

Customer: “Yes, you need to help me because I am your customer. You need to help me and you are ignoring me. Yes, I need help to find this book!”

(He goes on and on and on like this. He won’t let me speak and when he does he seems to ignore what I just said and continue his rant. This has been about a ten-minute phone call by this point and I am fed up.)

Me: “Okay, thank you for calling. Have a great day!” *click*

(My dog is grey with black spots all over, making her look like a dark Dalmatian. Her unusual markings get her a lot of attention and I’m used to answering a ton of questions about her, some of which get strangely personal, but only one woman has ever gotten really creepy about it.)

Woman: “Oh, my God! Your dog is beautiful! What kind is she?”

Me: “Thank you! She’s an Australian Shepard, Sheltie, and lab mix.”

Woman: “Oh, wow. Where did you get her?”

Me: “A friend of ours owns her mother; it’s how we’re so sure of her breeds.”

Woman: “Excellent! How much are they charging for them?”

Me: *not really understanding her* “I’m sorry? Charging for what?”

Woman: “For the puppies! I want one just like yours!”

Me: “Um, well, it was just my dog and her brother I’m afraid; there aren’t any more puppies.”

Woman: *cutting me off* “No, no, I mean when is the next litter expected?”

Me: *realizing this woman thinks my friend is a dog breeder* “Oh, no! I think we’ve gotten a little mixed up here. My friend isn’t breeding them; her dog just got pregnant unexpectedly.”

Woman: *suddenly angry* “Well, tell her she should! People would pay a lot of money for dogs like that!”

Me: “Umm, okay… They probably won’t go for it, though.”

(Not only are my friends not interested in breeding for money, but their dog was believed to be sterile and the pregnancy almost killed the poor dog, so I doubt they’d subject her to that again!)

Woman: *already moving forward aggressively* “Can I at least pet your dog? She’s just so cute!”

Me: *remembering all the horror stories I’ve heard about dog-napping* “Uh, she really doesn’t like strangers, and in fact, I really need to be going!”

(I pretty much ran away from her at that point, eager to not deal with her anymore, but not before I heard one last, “Your friend really SHOULD breed them!” Later, when relating the tale to my father, he proceeded to spend the next five minutes lecturing my dog about how she’d just narrowly avoided getting turned into a coat by Cruella DeVil. Now, whenever my dog misbehaves, I remind her of what a lovely coat she’d make!)

(This story happened to my father in the 70s, before cellphones and Internet. While going to university, he lived with three roommates; the first two were fairly regular guys, but the third one, well… He was a weird, eccentric guy, and a bit of an idiot. One night, my father and the weird roommate are the only ones at the apartment. My father comes out of his room to go to the kitchen and sees that the roommate is on the phone.)

Roommate: “Hi, can I speak to [Name]?” *pause* “A wrong number? Didn’t I call [Number]?”

(My father thinks nothing of it and goes back to his room. A few minutes later, he hears guitar playing and singing, so he goes to investigate. He comes out of his room and sees his roommate sitting on a bench, playing guitar, and singing with the phone lying on the counter, pointing towards him. Then, after two or three minutes of this, the roommate picks up the phone and talks a bit with the person on the other side, wishes them farewell, and hangs up.)

Father: “What was that all about? Why the heck were you playing guitar on a phone call?”

Roommate: “Oh, yeah! Funny story. I dialed the wrong number, and then I chatted a bit with the girl who answered the phone. We’re about the same age, and I asked her if she knew [Artist], and then I offered to sing one of their songs.”

Father: *incredulous* “And she said yes?”

Roommate: “Yes, of course! So, I sang to her, and she said she liked it.”

(My father starts thinking, “I can’t believe he actually found someone as crazy as himself!”)

Father: “So, when will you see her?”

Roommate: “What do you mean?”

Father: “Dude, if she lets you sing to her after you called a wrong number, surely she’s interested in you. Didn’t you ask for her number?”

Roommate: “Oh, I didn’t think about that.”

(And that’s how that weird roommate finally realized that he had managed to charm a complete stranger on a wrong phone number call, and ultimately screwed it up because he was so oblivious.)

(I work at a shipping store. Most of my job revolves around typing in shipping and return addresses. All information is saved under the customer’s phone number for future shipments. This transaction takes place during the Christmas season. The customer is a middle-aged woman.)

Me: “I can help whoever is next.”

Customer: “Yes, I need to ship this box to California.”

Me: “We can handle that. Looks like you need a shipping label, so can I start by getting your phone number?”

Customer: “…” *silently glaring at me*

Me: “Can I get your phone number, please?”

Customer: *with obvious annoyance* “You shouldn’t hit on people at work; it’s very rude.”

Me: *now a little wary* “I’m sorry, let me clarify. Our computer saves your name and address under your phone number for future shipments, so if you come back later we won’t have to type in all your information again.”

Customer: “No! You were hitting on me. I want to speak to the owner.”

Me: “If you insist. He’s right here.”

Owner: *has been listening the whole time* “He’s not lying; we need your number for our computer for contact info and future shipments.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. Do you harass all your female customers like this?”

Owner: “Ma’am, we are trying to help, but we cannot ship your package without your information.”

Customer: “Bull! You are all a bunch of stalkers!”

Owner: “I’m sorry you feel that way, but if you’re not going to cooperate, then you need to leave. We are very busy today and I don’t have time for this.”

Customer: *now yelling* “This is insane! You’re all sexist pigs! You’ll be hearing from my lawyer you—“ *slew of insults and foul language*

Owner: “I’m done. Get the h*** out of my store and don’t come back.”

Customer: *turns and starts walking out*

Me: “Next customer over here!”

New Customer: *talking loudly so the first customer can hear* “MY NUMBER IS [Number].”

Me: *bursts out laughing* “Thank you for that. You just made my day!”