I worked in a cell phone store in the days before smartphones.

Customer: “I want to transfer the information from my old phone to my new one.”

Me: “I can help you with that. Is that phone the old one or the new one?”

Customer: “The new one. The old one fell off the Golden Gate Bridge.”

I pause and process.

Me: “Sir, I would need the old phone to be able to do that for you.”

Customer: “But I heard phones connect to the internet now! Can’t you… just, aim a satellite and transfer the data?”

Me: “No, sir, it doesn’t work like that.”

Customer: “What if I remembered exactly where I was on the bridge when I dropped it?”

Me: “Sir… you’re not understanding what the barrier is here.”

Over two decades later, and now we have cloud computing, but I hope it doesn’t give that customer an excuse to be losing phones off bridges.

A woman comes up to my register with a small packet of horseradish.

Customer: “I will buy this for a dollar.”

I scan it, and it comes in at $3.19, but to be fair, it does look like it’s on its last days.

Me: “That’s the price, but since it’s a bit worse for wear, I’ll call over my manager.”

It takes a while for my manager to come by (we were busy), but I’m able to serve other customers while we wait. The manager shows up and asks the customer:

Manager: *Pointing to the horseradish.* “Was that the last one on sale? Did you have no choice but to pick that one?”

Customer: “Oh, no, there was plenty more, but I specifically picked that one because it’s old and I want it for a dollar.”

Gotta admire her honesty, I suppose.

Manager: *Gets on the phone with the Sales and Operations Manager, and after explaining:* “Can I discount this horseradish for this customer?”

Sales and Operations Manager: “I don’t know, let me call the Store Manager.”

At this point, I’m trying not to laugh at all the senior managers getting involved over discounting less than two dollars of root vegetable.

Store Manager: *Also on the phone.* “We can do 50%.”

Manager: *To the customer.* “That will bring it down to $1.60.”

Customer: “Hmm, let me think about it.”

My manager walked away, telling me I could ring it up for $1.60 if she decided to buy it.

About half an hour later, and after some internal deliberation, the customer walks back up to me:

Customer: “I still think I should get it for a dollar. Call those people back.”

Me: “Ma’am, they’ve only approved it to $1.60.”

Customer: “I’m not leaving until I get a deal that’s worth it.

Me: “Ma’am, I earn $17.50 an hour. You’ve spent an hour deliberating on saving $1.59 on some horseradish that might not be edible tomorrow. I am kinda earning nine times more than you’re saving right now. No deal on this is going to ever be worth it.”

Customer: “Hmm. Let me think some more.”

Tired of having her standing so close to my register just ‘hmming’ every few moments, I fish out two quarters and a dime from my pocket.

Me: “Ma’am, if you buy the horseradish for $1.60, I will give you sixty cents from my own pocket right now. That means you will get them for the equivalent of a dollar.”

Customer: “Do you have a penny?”

Me: “Why?”

Customer: “$0.99 sounds better than a dollar.”

Me: “You know what, here’s another dime. You’re getting them for ninety cents now. Would you like to buy them?”

Customer: *After a long thought.* “Well… okay then.”

She buys them for $1.60, and I hand her seventy cents.

Customer: “Now was that so hard?”

Yes, it really REALLY was…

CORRECTION: A typo has been corrected.

I work at a Chipotle. I am building a customer’s burrito.

Customer: “I want the spaghetti noodles.”

Me: “The… what?”

Customer: “The spaghetti noodles.”

He points at the shredded cheese.

Me: “Sir, that’s cheese.”

Customer: “It is? Where are the noodles?”

Me: “We’ve never had noodles. What you’re pointing at is shredded cheese.”

Customer: “I’ve been calling it spaghetti noodles all this time.”

Me: “Well, they do kinda look like noodles from a distance.”

Customer: “You’re the first one to correct me.”

Me: “Well, now you know!”

Customer: “I’m an idiot!”

Me: “No, sir! You’re not! It does look like—”

Customer: “Why didn’t I question why the noodles melted? Or tasted like cheese?!”

He starts to walk out, shouting at himself.

Customer: “Why don’t you question anything, Joseph!”

He wanders out into the night. I hope he’s okay…

A customer in line at the post office starts complaining the moment she steps up to the counter:

Customer: “Why are you catering to all the foreigners and immigrants?!”

Me: “I don’t understand, ma’am. This is a post office.”

Customer: “And all your signs are in every language!”

Me: “The languages are in English, Spanish, Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese.”

Customer: “Exactly! You’re catering to them!”

Me: “Ma’am, I might be wrong, but based on your accent, you sound like an immigrant yourself.”

Customer: *Scoffs.* “I married an American! That’s different!”

Me: *Sigh.* “Was there anything you needed from the post office today, ma’am?”

Customer: *Without the slightest hint of self-awareness.* “I need to send these forms to the Immigration Service ASAP! I forgot to do them, and my visa expires soon!”

I’m a librarian at a public library, and I have a patron come up to the reference desk to ask for help on a computer.

Patron: “I’m trying to make a Gmail, and I keep getting an error!”

Me: “Okay, let’s take a look and see what’s going on.”

I follow her over to the computer she’s using and see she’s entered a really long Gmail address, like “War and Peace” long. The error message says something generic, like “invalid username”.

Me: “I think I know what the issue is. Google has a limit on how many characters your username can have. I don’t know what it is off the top of my head, but I can go back to my computer really quickly and look it up, and then we can shorten your username and try again.”

Patron: “No, you’re wrong.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patron: “That’s the username I want. Gmail has to take it. Something else is wrong.”

Me: “Um…I don’t think so, ma’am. I really do think that’s the issue. But let me check, and I’ll come back over and help you get set up.”

Patron: “I’m telling you that’s not the issue. This username should be fine. Something else is wrong. I don’t understand why you won’t help me.”

She’s starting to get louder, and I’m trying to figure out how to de-escalate the situation.

Me: “All right, well, let me go back to my computer and see what that error might mean so we can get this figured out for you, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

I go back to my computer. Sure enough, Google has a character limit for usernames. I print the information out and take it to the patron.

Me: “Hi again. Here’s what I found online. Google has a limit, and your username is too long, so can we shorten it up so it’s less than thirty characters and try again?”

Patron: “No. This is the username I want.”

Me: “Okay, well, that’s why you’re getting that error. I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m happy to try to help you think of a shorter username.”

Patron: “I don’t know why you won’t help me and why you’re being so rude!”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude, and I am trying to help you. If you pick a different, shorter username, I can help you get set up with Gmail; otherwise, there really isn’t anything more I can do.”

The patron then yells over to the circulation clerk: Can you help me? Since she won’t?

Clerk: “Um…”

Me: “No, ma’am, that’s not his job, and honestly, if you don’t want to pick a different username, none of us can help you.”

I go back to my desk. She stayed at the computer for a little bit, getting visibly more agitated, but she wasn’t being disruptive, so I left her alone. She left in a huff a little while later with a parting shot about how she didn’t understand why none of us would help her. 

Another patron who had overheard the whole thing piped up:

Other Patron: “Some people are beyond help.”