(I work the fitting room at my store. I stand in a small foyer between the two fitting rooms, with the bathroom next to me, as well. I am not allowed to keep anyone’s buggy in the foyer, for security and safety reasons, and because frankly, it’s obnoxious, so I have customers park their buggies in a line in the wide aisle in front of me. I get many customers who don’t want to park their buggies there because they’re afraid someone will take their things. Usually they’ll more or less relax when I let them know I’ll keep an eye on their things. But apparently some people are paranoid. This particular woman comes to me, DANCING because she needs to use the bathroom, and tries to pull her buggy into my foyer.)

Customer: “Can you watch this while I go to the bathroom?”

Me: “Yeah, just park it in the line there.”

Customer: “Oh, uh-uh. Nope. I can hold this peepee in.”

(She walked away before I had time to respond.)

(We have a regular customer who is notorious for coming to various different staff members with the same question; however, her questions are always really odd, such as, “Which one of your shampoos will be good for gardening?” or “Which bar of soap looks prettiest when you get it wet?” and so forth. What’s more, whenever she tries a product, she insists it didn’t work properly or that she was allergic to something in it. Today she’s back and she’s returned to the shampoo, wanting to talk about a certain one she purchased the previous week.)

Me: “How did you get on with this shampoo?”

Customer: “How do you mean?”

Me: “Well, what did it do for your hair?”

Customer: “Uh…”

Me: “Did you like it?”

Customer: “Oh. Um. Yeah, it was okay. I think it made my hair shiny, but it was wet, you know?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “When I washed it, my hair was wet, so I don’t really know if it was good or not.”

Me: *trying to keep a straight face at this point, because I don’t know whether to laugh or facepalm* “Okay, um…”

Customer: “Also, do you have anything that won’t stay in my hair?”

Me: “How do you mean?”

Customer: “Like, every time I wash my hair, I always have loads of shampoo still left in it when I’m finished. Do you have any shampoos that won’t do that?”

Me: “None of them are meant to do that… I mean, I’ve never had that problem myself, and I don’t know anybody else who has… Perhaps you just need to take a little more time to make sure you’ve rinsed it out properly?”

Customer: “It just happens all the time. Why does that happen?”

Me: “Yeah, like I said, maybe it just needs a little extra rinsing.”

Customer: “So, can you just remind me what all these shampoos do again?”

(I know for a fact that she was perfectly well aware of what our products do; not only had I told her before, but several of my colleagues had as well, and she owned several of our catalogues. I still went through the various different products we had with her until I got called over to the tills, after which I looked up and she was gone. My coworker later told me the girl had come up to her while she was in the middle of helping another customer and tried to interrupt, so my coworker blanked her. She then left, but not before declaring that she’d be back next week.)

(I work for one of the biggest energy providers in Germany; the company that employs us to work for them has people based in Germany, and two offices in Bulgaria. Because people tend to react funny when customer service agents are based abroad, we are forbidden from telling people where we are, and instead must name two German cities, according to the customer’s location. This customer has received contract information by mistake, and I’m calling him to ensure him he doesn’t have a contract or anything to pay. We aren’t allowed to hang up unless the customers get offensive.)

Me: “Good morning. This is [My Name] of [Energy Provider]. Can I speak to Mr. [Customer], please?”

Customer’s Wife: “Sure thing; just hold a bit. [Customer], get over here! It’s for you!”

(Greetings follow.)

Me: “So, Mr. [Customer], apparently you got some contract info which you returned to us with a note that it can’t be right.”

Customer: “That’s right. I don’t live on that address anymore, so it isn’t right.”

Me: “Okay. I’m just calling to tell you it’s been a system error that sent some people contracts for their old addresses, even though the customers have moved out more than two years ago, in most cases. I apologize for that. I want to assure you, though, that there is no new contract for you on that old address, and you don’t have to pay or cancel anything.”

Customer: “This is good to hear, because I wouldn’t have to do it, anyway. If anything, your company owes me money!”

Me: *confused* “Can you tell me more about that?”

(I am seriously thinking he has an incorrect invoice and we might actually have to refund him.)

Customer: “The old house, you know. I sold it to this company, and they use a lot of electricity for their computers and all, and I convinced them to sign up with [Provider]. They’re paying you a lot. So I deserve a bonus!”

Me: “Well, I’m not really authorized…”

(I can give a small bonus if a customer is upset for some reason, or a “loyalty” bonus for long-time customers.)

Customer: “You have to talk to your boss, then. You do have a boss, don’t you?”

Me: *stifling a laugh* “Of course I do.”

Customer: “Good. Then talk to them and tell them I want a thousand euro!”

(I wish I could say this is all of it, but no… He proceeds to tell me about the company that bought his old house, about the transformer built in the town, about the cables in his street AND in his old street, what his son has told him about it, all about his son’s job and where he studied and where he lives… All in all, it takes about fifteen minutes.)

Me: *managing to squeeze a word in* “Okay, Mr. [Customer], now that it’s all clear, I’d like to wish you a nice day. Call us again if you have any questions.”

Customer: “Right, right, will do. Just don’t forget about my bonus. Say, you’re talking funny; where are you from originally?”

(Another five minutes of talking follow…)

Me: “Okay, now I really have to hang up, Mr. [Customer].”

Customer: “Yes, absolutely, we’re hanging up… Where did you say you’re working from?”

Me: “[City not too far from his town].”

Customer: “Oh, right! Tell me, how is the weather there?”

(I look through the window. It is June on the Black Sea coast, so, of course, it is hot enough to fry an egg on the window sill.)

Me: “Well… It’s overcast and a bit rainy.”

Customer: “Oh, just like here. Okay. Thanks a lot!” *hangs up*

(My project manager was nearby and had laughed for the last ten minutes. He didn’t get his bonus, poor chap, although he deserved one for making us laugh. I guess I could say he was bored and wanted to talk to someone, but his wife was also there.)

(I have a thing with languages. I grew up learning Latin, French, Spanish, and German. I also like to fall asleep watching movies in other languages. I pick up almost any language quickly. I can’t speak them, because I don’t try. I get embarrassed about mispronouncing things. However, I always know what’s being said without thinking. I figure out this super power when I am 18, accidentally. I am working in a restaurant that is run by Kosovo refugees. I am the only one outside of the family that works there. Every day the owners and some friends gather in a booth right next to where I do prep work.)

Friend Of Owner: *in Albanian* “Get me coffee!”

Me: *in English* “You could try saying, ‘please.'”

(Everyone turns to me and just stares.)

Friend Of Owner: *in English* “Please?”

Me: “Okay!”

(For days after that, the sons of the owners only spoke to me in Albanian to figure out how much I could understand. It was almost all of it. There were no more meetings by my work station anymore. I know why. Another super fun thing was once they figured out they didn’t have to speak English they just flat out didn’t. And now a ridiculously small town in the Midwest thinks I’m a refugee to this day when I go back to visit. I was born in Massachusetts.)

(I work at an observation deck. On very busy days we have long lines to get up to the deck, and occasionally, lines to get down, as well. A customer stomps her way to the front of the exit line.)

Customer: “I need to get down, now!“

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Right now there is a line to exit. It moves quickly, though. We do our best to get everyone up and down as quickly as possible.”

Customer: “You can’t do this. You’re holding me hostage!”

Me: “You are not being held hostage. You came here on your own free will; now you need to join the line with these other folks to exit.”

Customer: “I’ll have you arrested.”

(The customer called 911. We could hear her on the phone with the 911 operator, telling them she was being held hostage, but that nobody was injured, no hazmat, etc. Meanwhile, I called security and the police officer who works in the building. My police officer came before hers did, and she and her son were escorted out of the building. Funnily, I was never arrested.)