Me: “Thank you for calling [Brand] Insurance, how can I help you?”

Agent: “I doubt you can. Frankly, I don’t know why I waste time calling you people or writing business with you with all these problems you’ve been having, you people are incompetent, and I’m just done with you.”

Me: “Cool!” *Click.*

About fifteen years ago, I was working in a call center for a Very Big Cell Phone Company. This VBCC had call centers all over the USA. I happened to be working in one in the Midwest on the swing shift.

It was near the end of my shift one night, so almost 1:00 am, and things were winding down. My last call beeped through, but the customer’s account didn’t automatically pop up on the computer screen. This meant one of two things: either this wasn’t an actual customer (yet), or it was a customer with a lost or busted phone. I was hoping for the first but, sadly, it was the second.

So, I girded my loins, steeled myself, and prepared to do what I could to help. I got her cell number so I could pull up her account, and I saw that she had wisely purchased the replacement insurance. I used my best, Compassionate Customer Service Voice™ and assured her that she would get a replacement phone in five to seven business days.

She was not happy about this, and I get it. But there was nothing else I could do.

Customer: “I want my phone now!”

Me: “I understand. And I empathize, but the replacement phones are sent through the mail. It takes five to seven business days for it to arrive. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “No! You will give me my new phone now! I’ll pick it up at the store!”

Me: “Ma’am? You’re in New York. It’s 2:00 am there. There isn’t a store open, and even if there—”

Customer: “Then wake someone up, and make them open the store for me! I need this phone, now!”

This conversation went round and round in circles for about five minutes. It had been a long day, it was the end of my shift, and at that point, my friends were waiting for me so we could all go to a local twenty-four-hour breakfast place and blow off some steam. (It’s Tulsa, Oklahoma; there wasn’t anything else open at that time of night.)

I kept trying to explain to her the simple fact that I couldn’t instantaneously get her the replacement phone, and she kept interrupting me, demanding she get it RIGHT NOW!

I was starting to get pissed, and I was about to sacrifice my job if I heard the word “NOW” one more time.

Customer: “WHY WON’T YOU GIVE ME MY PHONE NOW?!”

And there it was…

I took a deep breath, found my center, and then, with a firm but calm tone to my voice that belied the fury boiling inside of me, I said:

Me: “Ma’am, I sincerely apologize, but all of our transporters have been infected with a computer virus. You don’t want me to beam you a mutated phone that would bite off your ear and then embed itself into your brain, now, would you? No, you do not. So, you’ll just have to wait patiently while we use twenty-first-century technology to get your replacement phone to you in five to seven business days. I am ending this call, now. Thank you, and good night.” *Click*

I logged off, grabbed my coat, and stood up, ready to finally leave…

And there was my supervisor, standing in her cubicle, giving me the stink-eye. She gestured for me to come to her, and like a dog that knew it had done a Bad Thing, I slunk across the call center.

Supervisor: “You do understand that I’m going to have to write you up for that, right?”

I nodded.

She looked around, and no one but my friends were looking in our direction. Then, she reached down and tapped a key on her keyboard. Then, she tapped a second one. Then a third. Then, she looked up at me, and a smile twitched on her lips.

Supervisor: “We’re just going to pretend this never happened, okay?”

Me: “Ma’am?!”

Supervisor: “Yeah, you lasted longer than I would have.” *Chuckles* “And I have to admit, that was a pretty creative comeback.” *Becomes stern again* “But never, ever do that again.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. No problem!”

That was not the first time — nor would it be the last time — that my smart mouth overruled my idiot brain when dealing with an Entitled Jerk. I’m honestly surprised I’ve never been fired for it. I’m retired now, so I beat the odds.

I should’ve used my luck on the lottery, instead.

I work in a bank call center. I recently had a call with a customer I’ll call Ms. Not Prepared.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Bank]. My name is [My Name]; how can I assist you?”

Ms. Not Prepared: “Hi! I need three months of statements showing what I get from [Company] and that it’s deposited into this account.”

Me: “I’d be happy to assist you with that. May I have your Social Security number and name, please?” *Verifies the account* “All right, Ms. Not Prepared, let me get those statements sent out. Are you still at [123 I Don’t Plan Ahead Street]?”

Ms. Not Prepared: “NO, NO, NO! I need them faxed to [number]! This is urgent!”

Oooookay…

Me: “Unfortunately, Ms. Not Prepared, we do not fax or email statements. I can mail them out and you’ll receive them in seven to ten days or, this being a time-sensitive issue, you can also access up to three months on the website. Do you have a profile?”

Ms. Not Prepared: “Look, [My Name], I’m disabled. I don’t know how to do that kind of stuff. I need these today. I need them for my apartment. I will be evicted!”

Me: “I’d be happy to set up a call from our web support team; they will walk you through registering. If you’re not comfortable with that, I’ve submitted the request for statements, and you will receive them in seven to ten days.”

Ms. Not Prepared: “Who do I need to talk to so these get faxed today? I don’t believe you can’t send them!”

Me: “Ma’am, no one will be able to do that here. You can access statements on the website or wait for them in the mail.”

Ms. Not Prepared: “So, you’re going to make me homeless and you don’t care? I want your supervisor!”

Me: “All right, I’ve reached out and have a supervisor ready for you now. I have explained the issue, and they said they would be happy to set up a call from web support since I’ve already sent the statements”

Ms. Not Prepared: “F*** YOU!” *Hangs up*

If you’re buying a car, signing a lease, or whatever, and you need bank statements, it is literally your fault if you wait until the day you need them to request them. I get this exact issue multiple times a day. I had one lady screaming that my company did it years ago and there are exceptions to every rule. Yes, we make exceptions for all FIFTY MILLION account holders on a daily, ma’am. Yes, that’s how it works…

I work as a dispatcher for an alarm company. Basically, if something sets your alarm off, I’m the one calling you to see if you’re okay and calling emergency services if you need them or we can’t verify that you’re okay. Procedures for different alarm types vary, but for all of them, we always try to contact you over the panel in your home or business first. This is the standard. You were informed of this when you first got your system.

I get a burglary alarm from your system. I speak with you over the panel. You immediately begin swearing at me. We establish that you’re fine but are having issues with your system. Also, why the f*** didn’t we ever call your phone?!

I’m dead inside, so I politely do the “So sorry to hear you’re having trouble with this; let me help” dance. I don’t give a s*** about the swearing. You’re about to be tech support’s problem, and so far, it just sounds like you’re mad at the equipment.

I tell you we can actually add super secret special instructions to your account to skip the panel and just call you if you’d like. It’ll be great. You’ll love it. It’ll be exactly like you seem to think it should be. The thing is that the verification to help with account issues and add those lovely special instructions is slightly different than the verification process for me to not send the cops. So, I ask you for a single additional piece of information.

You do not want to give me this information over the panel. You insist that this is stupid and unsafe. Why would I ask you to put your business out for the whole world to hear?!

[Customer], you are standing inside your own home. You are not in public. You just told me that you are home alone. I have no idea why this could possibly be an issue for you, but sure, I can call you on your phone instead. That line and conversation will be recorded just like this one, but whatever makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

I ask if I can call you at the number ending in [four digits]. You snap at me, “Well, that’s my number, isn’t it?!”

I don’t f****** know, [Customer]; that’s why I asked. You have five different numbers listed, all with your name as the contact name; please forgive my stupidity in trying to make sure I was calling the right one.

I confirm the full number. You verify that this is the correct number. Okay, [Customer], I will call that number — the one we agreed on — as soon as I disconnect from your panel, at which point, I will be so, so, so happy to help you. You inform me that your phone is in hand, you are waiting, and I had better hurry up.

I click the button to drop the call with your panel. I click the button to dial your phone. This takes one or perhaps two seconds. It does not ring. It goes straight to voicemail. I try again just in case, but no. It goes. Straight. To. Voicemail. I leave a message you will never get.

[Customer], you have our number blocked.

You have blocked the number of the people you pay to monitor your safety and are now angry that we never call you.

I cannot help you, you absolute f****** platypus. I send you the scripted email with our callback number and desperately hope I don’t get the incoming call whenever you figure out how phones work. May the universe help whatever poor soul has to take it; I just hope it’s not me.

I lost my previous call center job, and sadly, I’m back in Hell now. (It’s not actually Hell; this place is soooooo much better and I honestly kind of like it.) I’ve handled billing strictly for more than a year, so I handle bills at this new place, as well. I won’t say where, but it’s an electricity company based in the United States.

Most people are surprisingly chill when calling, some are very rude and I wish I could die, but some are way more subtle than others.

This was the latter.

It was a fairly chill and standard call initially, although she had her phone on speaker so I was struggling to hear her. All that she needed was to know her balance and pay the bill — like $70.

As I mentioned, I was struggling to hear because the phone was on speaker for some reason that I could not comprehend. Eventually, I was able to pull up her account. She was not overdue, and the bill had most likely gotten lost in the mail or something.

She was kind and nice at first, asking how much her balance was, and I asked if she wanted to pay it all. She said yes. Bingo, that’s the easiest way to help my payments metric, thank you so much, lady, I apprecia—

Lady: “Where are you located?”

Oh. G**d*** it.

I’m guessing the fact that I struggled initially clued her into the fact that I was not from the almighty land of the free. Oh, well.

Now, you might think I’m stupid for this (I am), but I always tell them where I’m from because I like to hear their reactions to my country of residence. Some people praise me for my good English (not a fan of that supposed compliment), but some people sound shaken up.

Me: “Oh, I’m from El Salvador.”

Lady: “El Salvador?! You’re not even American?!”

What followed was a couple of seconds of silence because she had been sweet and ASKED ME to process the payment for her, so I was booting up the tool to do so. (And to be honest, people going, “EL SALVADOR?!” is pretty common.) What she said next, though, completely surprised me.

Lady: “Is there an automated system I could pay through?”

What?

That just… completely stunned me when it happened. She was completely okay with me looking at her account and processing the payment for her, but the moment I mentioned that I was not from the US of A, she suddenly wanted to process a payment through the automated system.

Now, we do have one; it literally plays before any call goes through to an agent, and the caller has to request to speak to an agent, so I don’t know how she didn’t know we had one. I could transfer her directly to an automated system to pay.

However, I wanted to be a little mean.

In order to transfer someone to the automated payment system, I needed to type down how much they were looking to pay and the account number.

Me: “I can definitely transfer you to an automated system if you’d rather pay through one. In order to do so, I need to write down how much you’re looking to pay. Can I get some clarification on the amount so that I can transfer the call?”

Lady: *In a very shaky and scared voice* “Why do you need that?”

Poor lady — the fact that my native language wasn’t English was so terrifying to her that she was unwilling to tell me what I told her previously.

She ended up asking if there was another way, and I told her that the contact information for the IVR (Interactive Voice Response) was available on the website. She ended up hanging up. Just a completely bizarre case of someone switching up upon learning that I was not from the USA!