(I used to work in a call center for a phone company).

Me: Good evening, this is [My name] from [Company], how may I help you?
Customer: I am done with you guys! I already said I don’t want any ads, you are displaying unauthorized ads on my phone, and I want you to disable them right now!
Me: Can you please describe what’s happening, sir?
Customer: Whenever I’m playing [Random game] from Play Store on my smartphone, it displays a full-screen ad after each stage!

(Altough my job was only to state that we do not offer customer support from third parties, I kindly try to explain that most free apps from Google Play Store show full-screen ads, and they were not related to our services. Of course he didn’t believe a thing, and after a few minutes in this, he simply said that he was going to take a screenshot of it and call again, and hung up).

This happened to my wife in her first job. She was sixteen at the time.

In this clothes store, all kinds of people came because they had a large collection and lots of stuff to complement the clothes. Also, all ages and sizes could buy stuff here.

One slow day, my wife is on the floor with a colleague. Two customers come in: one very pregnant woman, looking hot and miserable, and a regular customer that often spends a lot of money there.

In the store, everybody works on commission, so the employees are always happy to see this customer, and she often asks specifically for my wife to help her.

My wife’s colleague jumps and runs to be sure to be able to help the regular customer and my wife gets stuck with the mother-to-be.

Not a nice move by the colleague, but what can you do? Well, this.

My wife approaches the pregnant woman.

Wife: “Would you like to take a seat and have a glass of water?”

She is very happy to accept and visibly relieved to get off her feet. Then, my wife asks about the pregnancy, expected delivery, sex of the baby, and stuff like that.

Pregnant Customer: “I’m actually here to shop for the baby; I have almost nothing bought yet!”

Wife: “Can I make some suggestions?”

Then, my wife went around the store and gathered lots of clothes and baby stuff. The woman could take her pick, could use the bathroom, and could keep sitting and be comfortable all afternoon. She ended up buying almost all of the stuff for the baby she needed — some toys, cute stuff for the nursery, etc. — and gave a big tip to my wife for all the help.

And the regular? She bought a skirt and left quickly.

My wife’s colleague was curious and went to their supervisor, claiming that my wife stole her customer. But too bad for her, the supervisor had seen what happened and told her off. My wife was complimented for treating a customer so well and making such a good sale.

My wife and her colleague were never really friends after that, but my wife soon found a better job.

My bathroom faucet has been dripping non-stop for a few days, so I decide to call someone to fix it. After a quick research, I find a landline for [Handyman #1] and he assures me he will be in my house in an hour. He is a little evasive about prices, but I decide to trust him for now. Not so bad, right?

Well… after almost four hours, I call again.

Handyman #1: “I’m already driving to you!”

Weird. I am calling a landline! I get fed up with the unprofessional behaviour and cancel the job; I confirm my information with him, tell him I will not need his services, and — after hearing some very “polite” words from him — hang up.

After calling some friends and family, I found another person, [Handyman #2], who got here in less than twenty minutes, fixed my problem, and even gave me some tips about what to do if I encountered the same type of problem again. Great!

After three hours of the first cancellation — SEVEN HOURS after the initial contact — guess who was on my buzzer? Yep, [Handyman #1], and he even had the audacity to ask if I was the person who’d cancelled.

And some people ask why they can’t find work.

I was raised in a very open household, where I was encouraged to talk about all subjects, so I don’t really get embarrassed easily. My sister-in-law, on the other hand, is bizarrely prudish, to the point that she refers to pregnancy as being in a “delicate condition.” It’s particularly weird because she’s not even religious.

We are both in our late twenties, and at the time of this story, I am being treated for a health issue which means I can’t take the pill. My husband and I are not ready for children yet, but we have slipped, so I am at a pharmacy and convenience store getting a pregnancy test and a large box of condoms. My mom is also somewhere in the store buying her own things, while I’m already at the register.

My sister-in-law enters the store, sees me and my items, turns an interesting shade of red, and makes a beeline for me. Her side of the conversation is done in an angry whisper that’s still audible to other people in line, while mine is at my normal voice tone.

Sister-In-Law: “[My Name], what are you doing?! Why are you buying this trash, and at a local family store? Don’t you care about our family reputation?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Sister-In-Law: “You’re a married woman! People are going to think you’re cheating. And are you? What do you need this for? Married couples don’t need condoms, and a whole box is just scandalous. And if you thought you were in a delicate condition, you’d see a doctor, unless you’re trying to hide your infidelity!”

Me: “I need condoms because I like sex and so does [Husband]. I’m pretty sure a whole box of condoms make us prepared, and hopefully very lucky. And I need the test because, well, I like sex and so does [Husband]!”

I wiggle my eyebrows.

Sister-In-Law: “You’re just shameful! I’m ashamed to even know you! Would you be buying this if your mother could see you? Of course not, you—”

In one of those benevolent-universe coincidences, my mom chooses this moment to come to the register.

Mom: “Hey, [My Name], did you finish buying your stuff already? I found a box of the [different condoms] you prefer if you want to switch.”

Sister-In-Law: *Screaming* “You’re all shameful!”

As she stormed out of the store, the cashier and the couple behind me in line were dying of laughter, I had laughing tears rolling down my eyes, and my mom was just super confused. To this day, my sister-in-law barely speaks to me at family functions, which I still consider a double win!

This story is part of our Best Of August 2020 roundup!

Read the next Best Of August 2020 story!

Read the Best Of August 2020 roundup!

I work at a small engineering company. We are still very small, only about twenty-five people. We have an IT guy who is responsible for interfacing with clients when their problem is more software-based and installing any modules we program for them. Therefore, he interacts with clients more than most of us engineers. He has a bit of a short temper but is otherwise excellent at his work and great as a coworker.

We also have a very abusive jerk of a client who gives us a lot of revenue and a lot of headaches. He expects each of us to grovel and scrape whenever we interact with him, has sworn at all of us at some point, and is a horrible human being in general.

He’s just found a minor bug on a software we sold him. This is fairly normal and we warranty new software for two to five years because bugs do happen.

My colleague and I, who are the programmers, my manager, and the IT guy are all at his site trying to solve the problem and have already taken a lot of abuse.

Client: “You’re all morons who can’t do anything right. I don’t know why we still bother with your company!”

Manager: “[Client], we are here to fix—”

Client: *Like a chant* “Morons, morons, morons! Come on, sing with me what you are! Morons, morons, morons!”

Three of us there are shocked and don’t know what to do. And then, there is [IT Guy].

IT Guy: “Sure, I’ll sing with you! F*** YOU! F*** YOU! F*** YOU!”

The client’s jaw hits the floor and he starts getting red in the face. But [IT Guy] continues his own chant, raising his voice to the point of yelling in this guy’s – open plan! – office space, and adding dancing middle fingers!

IT Guy: “F*** YOU! F*** YOU! F*** YOU!”

My manager quickly — but not too quickly! — gets us out of there before security comes to get us. [IT Guy] is still yelling as we drag him out the door.

IT Guy: “F*** YOU! F*** YOU! F*** YOU!”

He was fired, of course. In a company as small as ours, we couldn’t afford to let this behavior go unpunished — not with that many witnesses — or our reputation would go down the drain. But he was the office hero for months!

And the client was so hated that [IT Guy] was not fired for cause and was offered a settlement equivalent to two months of his salary, on top of the normal unemployment benefits. My manager also wrote him a kick-a** reference letter and sent his résumé to some connections. He had a good new job in under a month and remained friendly with us.

And we never did business with the abusive client again!