(I work in a call center in tech support for a Canadian cell phone company. I tend to get this particular situation a few times a month.)

Me: “In order to do a quick refresh of your service, I’m going to ask you to take out your SIM card after turning off your phone. Then, we’ll put everything back together in about two minutes and then test your service.”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t know where the SIM card is. Where is it?”

Me: “I see that in your particular phone model that you’ll have to take the back off and then your battery so you can pull it out.”

Customer: “Oh, all right. Let me do that.”

(The customer fumbles around with their phone and then finally locates the SIM card. Two minutes pass by.)

Me: “All right, let’s put the SIM card back in now and get to turning your phone back on.”

(More fumbling goes on the background.)

Customer: “This isn’t right! It’s not working!”

Me: “I’m sorry. May I ask what’s wrong?”

Customer: “The phone won’t even turn on! It’s not working!”

(I start to realize what may be the problem.)

Me: “Sir, did you put the battery back in?”

Customer: “No. Do I need to do that?”

Me: “…”

I’m from Nova Scotia but moved to Prince Edward Island several years ago. All of my family is still in Nova Scotia. A little over a week before Christmas, my grandmother passes away. My work kindly gives me time off to go home for the funeral in Nova Scotia. Those from the area know that there are two ways off of PEI: a bridge to a neighboring province, or a ferry directly to Nova Scotia. Taking the ferry shortens the trip considerably, but it stops running a few days before Christmas on the 21st. I plan to leave on the 20th so I can get home in time to help my mother with both the funeral preparations and the preparations for a very sad Christmas.

Here, my string of bad luck begins: my departure is delayed by a blizzard, and I have to book my ferry crossing for the 21st, the last day that the ferry runs. I leave early as the roads are still snowy, and I am two-thirds of the way through an hour-long drive and deep in rural PEI when my car starts to swerve even on the clear patches of the road. I pull over and get out to look; I have a flat tire, and although I have the car’s rubber donut spare, I don’t actually know how to put it on.

But I do have roadside assistance. I call them, and then the place that services my car. They have one appointment open for three-thirty in the afternoon. I take it, even though it means that not only will I miss the ferry crossing I booked a spot on, but also the following one, which is the very last one of the season. I’ll have to take the bridge. After a cold wait for assistance, I’m making the trip back to the city where I live, with the suitcases and travel paraphernalia stuffed in the car because the bad tire is now consuming the bulk of my car’s small trunk.

I go to my service center early in hopes that they can squeeze me in early. As I park, I discover that the cooler stuffed in the front passenger seat has slid partially onto its side and leaked. Grabbing some paper towels and water, I scramble to repair damages — my car is new! — and in my hurry, I don’t realize that my door is now lightly touching the car next to mine. I find out almost immediately, though, as the owner runs up to me and starts yelling.

I’m stammering apologies and trying to sop up the last few drops of what I think is egg nog without having the door touch his car again; we’ve both looked and I didn’t even smudge the salt on the side of his car, let alone leave a scratch, but he’s not having any of my apologies and keeps yelling. I close the door and, feeling what little cool I have left evaporating, try to tell him it’s okay and it won’t happen again, and instead, I burst into tears because it’s just too much on top of everything else.

I don’t remember what exactly I said anymore; I remember sobbing that I am trying to go home for my grandmother’s funeral, and I’ve had a flat tire and missed my ferry, and now this. He gets really quiet after that, apologizing and saying he was just scared, because his car is a lease. He asks when the funeral is, and when my appointment time is. We go in together and he asks the lady at the service desk if they can swap our appointments, since he only needs his car by the end of the day and I have to travel as soon as possible. I thank him and sit down to wait.

They hurry, and I have a brand-new tire on my car half an hour later at no charge! And thanks to the appointment switch, I am able to catch the very last ferry crossing of the season, saving me hours of driving.

I never knew the man’s name, but thanks to him, I got home in time, and even early enough to help and support my mom through saying goodbye to hers. So, to the stranger who let go of his anger in favor of kindness, and the people at the service center who helped make things work out: thank you. You made a hard day and a hard Christmas a lot easier, for both me and my family.

I’m on a job to, among other things, repair a light over a client’s front door. The issue as described by the client is that it doesn’t always come on every time they flip the switch.

I talk to the property manager and he shows me the switch — in a bank of about eight others — that controls the light. I turn it on and off several times and cannot replicate the issue, but to be thorough, I open the fixture and inspect everything. I tell the property manager that it seems to be in proper working order, but I can replace the functional parts just to be certain. He agrees and I proceed.

When I’m finished, I show him that it’s working properly by again repeatedly turning it on and off. He agrees that it’s good to go.

The next day, when we return to finish the rest of the work, he approaches me again and says they’re still having the same issue. This time the client is home so I speak to her directly. I ask her to show me what happens when she turns it on.

She proceeds to flip every single one of the aforementioned eight switches before coming to the one that actually controls the light, and then she says, “See? It doesn’t work.”

Containing my laughter, I show her that it’s only tied to the one switch and repeat the process of turning it on and off, showing her that it’s functioning normally.

The client says, “Oh, well, now it works!”

(I am the front desk manager at a hotel, and I recently hired a new employee to work the front desk. He has only worked two three-hour training shifts so far but it is already obvious that he is not going to work out. While he seems to be learning our reservation system easily, the guy has zero customer service skills and is incapable of following even the simplest of directions. He needs to be guided by the hand like a child in everything he does, no matter how many times he has done it. I’ve already told my boss that if I don’t see any improvement at his next shift I am going to let him go and start holding new interviews. This is the afternoon after his second shift. I stop in at a fast food restaurant to get supper for my kids and me when I hear a commotion at the front. A group of young guys are making a scene and harassing the cashier. The ringleader of the group happens to be my new employee, still in his uniform and name tag.)

My New Employee: “Look, [gay slur], you may not realize how things work in the real world but the customer is always right! I told you I want a [burger from Competitor] and I don’t care if it’s not on your menu. You will figure out how to make one and you will sell me one!”

Fast Food Employee: “I’m sorry, but I can only punch in what is on the keypad. Like I told you, the closest thing we have is [Signature Burger], which has similar toppings, but we don’t carry the sauce they use. You could—“

My New Employee: “NO! We’ve been through this. You’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of my friends! I know I’ve ordered this before. I’m not stupid. I know you can, so just shut up and do your job or get me someone else who can!”

Fast Food Employee: “Well… Okay, let me get my manager and maybe…”

My New Employee: “Holy f***! Really?! Just punch the f****** order in and make my burger happen! I know customer service! I know what it means to please your customer and do your job properly. Now, punch in the burger that I ordered; I know you have a button for it and I expect to be heavily discounted for all this trouble! God… you young people today. I would never hire someone like you at my company.”

(I’ve had enough, both because he’s holding up the line and making me wait, and also because I can’t believe I almost let someone with this kind of attitude serve my customers and work with my staff. The manager, who has been stuck at the drive-thru this whole time, finally has enough and comes over to deal with the situation, but I can’t help myself and step in.)

Me: “Hey, [My New Employee], so, uh, what kind of pull do you have exactly? What kind of authority does six hours of receptionist training give you in the ‘real world’?”

(He turns and looks at me as though he is going to say something when a look of recognition flashes on his face and he immediately goes pale.)

My New Employee: “Oh, uh, hey, [My Name], I was, um… trying to teach this guy about customer service just like you taught me. You made me understand how important it is and… uh… I’m trying to help him, you know? I really love my job and all, and I really need my job so uh…” *chuckles* “…yeah.”

Me: “Look, I don’t care what resolution the manager gives you here tonight, but you can drop off your uniform and name tag at my office tomorrow morning. I’m not going to have somebody with an attitude like yours serving my customers. Now, please, do us all a favor and go to [Competitor] to get your burger like any normal person would do and let the rest of us get our food so we can get on with our lives and pretend that you don’t exist.”

My New Employee: “Wait, why do I have to drop off my uniform? Do you guys, like, wash it for us?”

(Some people laugh, and his group of friends groan and start to leave.)

Me: “Really? Dude, you’re fired. When you go out in public with our uniform on, you are representing our company, and I will not have you making us look bad. Please go home and take those clothes, drop them off tomorrow, and don’t ever speak to me or come near our building again.”

My New Employee: *stands there quietly as he begins to realize what has just gone down and then starts to cry* “Oh, man. Oh, man! I can’t believe this! No!”

(I ended up getting the employee discount on my order, and I made sure to leave a nice tip for the young man that was getting yelled at. The guy did drop off his uniform and tried to ask for a second chance, which he didn’t get.)

(When my brother is little, he often goes up to strangers and talks to them. We are at the park one day when he is about two, and he sees a Black woman. I guess he hasn’t seen many Black people before, because he runs up to her.)

Brother: “Why is your skin made of chocolate?”

(My parents are horrified and worried that she will be mad or offended. Instead, she just laughs.)

Woman: “I’ve been called a lot of things that are worse than chocolate!”

This story is part of our celebration of Not Always Right publishing over 100,000 stories!

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