(I work in the fraud department for a very large bank, on the night shift.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Bank] Debit Card Fraud Department. My name is [My Name]; may I ask who I am speaking with?”

(The caller gives me a name, and I think I just mishear her, as I’m still loading her card information. The name on the account pops up, and it was the name I did in fact hear.)

Me: “Thank you so much. And I have your information here; may I have your name just one more time, please?”

(She tells me the name on the account.)

Me: “Thank you so much. One moment, let’s let this final system load.” *mutes my phone and stands up* “This one is going to the bank; I’m not taking this call!”

Supervisor: “Why?”

Me: “Call me crazy, but I don’t trust a woman named [Male Name]!”

Supervisor: “Well, is there a woman on the account?”

Me: “No.”

Supervisor: “Are there notes saying a woman can speak on the account?”

Me: “No.”

Supervisor: “Well, try to authenticate them. High risk. If they fail, send them to the bank, and log my ID.”

(If your name is not on an account, you cannot call and talk about it, regardless of it’s your child’s, your spouse’s, a parent’s, or anyone. This is an automatic red flag for an agent that something is going on.)

Me: *unmuting my phone* “So sorry about that, ma’am. I do need to ask a few security-related questions for the safety of the account. Is it possible to provide me with your driver’s license?”

(I can very clearly hear a man reading numbers off to her, and she repeats them for me. It’s the correct license, but this is considered an automatic fail, since someone else gave her the information.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t accept that. If someone provides you with the information, I can’t take it.”

Client: “No, I was the one who read it off. There’s no one else here.”

Me: *pauses* “Okay, may I also have your social security number?”

(Again, someone else reads her the number. This is another fail. I mute my phone again and stand up.)

Me: “She got them right, but someone is reading the information to her; I can hear them, and she’s trying to tell me I don’t.”

Supervisor: “Send them to the bank. Make sure you notate this account can’t be serviced over the phone until they go.”

Me: *unmuting my phone* “Okay, ma’am. I’m very sorry, but due to the information you’ve given me, I have to refer you to the banking center in the morning.”

Client: “WHAT?! YOU CAN’T DO THAT! I CAN’T MAKE IT TO THE BANK TOMORROW!

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am. I am unable to continue servicing this account, and won’t be able to until an associate calls tomorrow. I can hear a man in the background giving you the information, and I can’t accept that.”

Client: “My son just reads things off for me sometimes; I don’t see well!”

Me: “You told me no one was with you earlier. Please go to the banking center tomorrow, and have an associate give us a call.”

Client: “I WILL NOT! I HAVE GIVEN YOU MY DRIVER’S LICENSE NUMBER! I HAVE GIVEN YOU MY SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER! MY NAME IS [MALE FULL NAME], WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!”

Me: “I want you to go to the bank tomorrow and have an associate call me.”

(I am approached by a shifty-looking, female customer. She slinks up to me and gets in close so she can speak in a low voice.)

Customer: “Excuse me, young man! The rat poison you have on sale there — is it harmful to people?”

Me: “Yes, madam, I’m almost certain it will be harmful to most living creatures. You need to keep it out of reach of children and pets.”

Customer: “So, if I gave some to a person, would it kill them?”

Me: “Well, yes, I suppose it would.”

Customer: “Definitely?”

Me: “I can’t say for sure, madam, but I’m 99% certain that it would kill a person if they took enough of it.”

Customer: “Do you know how much you would need to kill a person?”

Me: “Unfortunately, I really can’t say, madam; it depends on the person.”

Customer: “Oh, okay, thanks!” *nods conspiratorially and walks off*

(I work the checkout. It’s almost nine pm when a customer comes through my till. We go through the hi-how-are-you’s and how-is-your-days. He speaks perfect English and is very obviously from Australia.)

Customer: *scans through products*

Me: “That will be $12.50.”

Customer: *hands me a ten-dollar note and looks at me expectantly*

Me: “That will be $12.50, sir.”

Customer: *blinks at me for a few seconds*

Me: *a little more slowly* “12… 50… sir.”

(He then starts looking back in his wallet; I am still holding the note in my outstretched hand. Then he grabs the ten dollars and puts it on the counter and hands me a different ten dollar note, as well as a five.)

Me: *pretending like nothing happened* “Thank you, sir.” *hands back change*

Customer: *finally catching up to what he did* “That really didn’t make much sense, did it? What can I say; it’s been a really long day.”

Customer: “You need to turn the AC down! It is too cold for the customers in here!”

Coworker: “Well, the people working in the kitchen area have four ovens running behind them, so they need the cool.”

(This man is now twiddling his nipples.)

Customer: “Too cold for customers!”

(My brother works at Bojangles, whose contains the slogan, “It’s Bo time.” A man walks in one day.)

Customer: “Is it Bo time?”

Worker: *in a joking tone* “No.”

Customer: “Oh, okay, then.”

(He actually left, and approached a worker in the parking lot, claiming that the people inside refused him service! He finally came inside and actually ordered.)