(A friend of mine is from the Middle East and has a slightly unusual name. His fiancée lives in a gated complex and every time he goes to visit her this exchange will happen at the guard house.)

Friend: “I’m here to visit [Fiancée]. My name is [Slightly Unusual Name].”

Guard: “Could you spell that, please?”

(My friend gets tired of that routine, so the next time he drives up to the guard house, the exchange goes like this:)

Friend: “I’m here to visit [Fiancée]. My name is Bob.”

Guard: “Could you spell that, please?”

(Mental face-plant on the steering wheel.)

(My daughter, around three or four years old, is acting increasingly lethargic, so I take her to urgent care. As always, there is a long wait and she steadily gets more and more bored and restless until the doctor finally comes in. The doctor looks at her and then at me.)

Doctor: “Okay, what brings you here tonight?”

Me: “My daughter has become really lethargic.”

(My daughter can’t sit still anymore and gets up.)

Doctor: “Hi, honey. Can you jump around a little for me?”

(My daughter goes wild, pogo-ing around the room.)

Me: “She wasn’t like this at home! I am so sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

Doctor: “Eh, that’s okay. To be honest, I’m a pediatric specialist. I’m just working here to make a little extra money. Most of my patients die. It’s really nice for me to see a healthy kid.”  

(We shook hands and he walked out. This was almost 20 years ago, and I’ve never forgotten how quickly my embarrassment was replaced with sadness.)

(I work in a coffee shop and we sell our iced beverages in clear cups. We are very busy as it is a holiday. I am on bar making drinks and calling them out as I finish, including size, the drink name, and the name that was given when the person ordered. There are a couple of drinks sitting on the hand-off plane that haven’t been collected yet, which isn’t unusual. A man comes up and picks up a drink and walks off with it which, again, isn’t unusual. A few minutes later he comes back.)

Customer: *holding a large, clear, iced cup* “I ordered a caramel macchiato! This tastes nothing like a caramel macchiato!”

Me: “Are you [Customer]?”

Customer: “Yes?”

Me: “Your drink is right there, sir.”

(I indicate the hand-off plane with a large caramel macchiato waiting to be picked up with the customer’s name on it.)

Customer: “Well, next time make sure I get the right drink the first time! What is this, anyway? I’ve never, in my life, tasted anything like it before! Why would you even sell this?”

(I look at the drink in the clear cup — the clear liquid in the clear cup.)

Me: “Sir, we don’t charge for glasses of water.”

Related:
H2-D’oh!, Part 6
H2-D’oh!, Part 5
H2-D’oh!, Part 4
H2-D’oh!, Part 3

(I was promoted to supervisor at my store, meaning I am allowed to be involved in the hiring process for the first time. As such, my district manager is beside me to make sure everything goes okay. We conduct a group interview with four people. When given a scenario about a guest wanting a refund due to weather, they all decide as a group that the best answer is, “They should’ve checked the weather app beforehand.”)

District Manager: “So, that’s it? Would you guys apologize?”

Person #1: “Well, obviously, apologize, but they should’ve checked the app.”

(The inner retail worker in me was screaming YES, because I agree, but we didn’t hire any of them because of their poor customer service answers.)

(I’ve recently moved into a house that I am renting with a few other housemates. Most of the other houses in the area have families living in them, so it isn’t uncommon to have a bunch of kids running around the area. On this day, I am unloading some groceries from my car when a few kids run past. Suddenly, the kids dart in and grab the bags that I haven’t picked up and run off with them.)

Me: “Hey!”

(The kids run to one of the houses a few doors down, so I drop the bags I’ve already picked up back in the trunk, shut and lock it to prevent a repeat, and then run after them. They’ve already entered the house by the time I get there, so I pound on the door. A lady answers.)

Me: *with an attempt at a polite smile* “Hi. A couple of your kids grabbed some bags from my car while I was unloading, so I’m here to get those back. I think–”

Lady: *screeching* “How dare you?! You accusing my boys of stealing?! They wouldn’t do that! How dare you?!”

(I have zero tolerance for the type of people who resort straight to shouting, so I pull out my phone and punch in three numbers, before holding it up so she can see.)

Me: “I was willing to write it off as childish mischief. Do we need to treat it as actual theft?”

(The lady glares at me and looks like she’s about to slam the door in my face, so I take a step forward, putting my foot over the threshold. She actually growls, before stepping back and picking up the bags from where they’ve been dumped on a side table, just inside the door.)

Lady: “Fine, if you have to have them so bad.”

Me: *in the most disgusted tone I can muster* “They’re mine, b****.”

(I then stomped off, leaving her to gape after me at calling her what she is.)