(I work in a café as a barista. The café is a chain, but my store is just a small kiosk inside a grocery store. Almost all of our customers are people who just stop to get a coffee while getting their groceries, so we don’t get very busy. Most days I work the evening shift alone as I only get a handful of customers per hour and there is no need to have anyone else there with me. This means I have to work the till and the espresso machine myself. I am working one night when a regular customer comes in with his grocery shopping and orders multiple drinks to take home to his family. I ring him up, give him his change, and walk over to the espresso machine to start making his drinks. Another customer with a stroller walks up to the till. I smile at her.)

Me: “Hi there. I’ll be with you in just a few minutes; I’m working alone tonight.”

Customer: “I’ll have a cookie.”

Me: “No problem, ma’am. I just need to finish off the drinks I’m making for this customer, and then I’ll be right with you.”

(She immediately starts huffing and tapping her nails on the counter, making a big show of the fact that she has to wait. I’m trying to avoid looking at her but I finally do have to look over to make sure no one else is waiting behind her. As soon as she sees me look in her direction, she tries to get my attention.)

Customer: “I’ll have a cookie, please!”

Me: “I’ll be able to get your cookie in a moment, just as soon as I’m done making these drinks.”

(By this time, all the espresso is done brewing and I’m just adding the steamed milk and toppings to the drinks. I probably would be another two minutes, but she carries on.)

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I want my cookie now! Why can’t you stop making the drinks and come sell me a cookie?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s company policy that when only one person is working, we need to finish each order before taking a new one. Otherwise, if I got busy, I could end up standing at the till taking orders forever with no one to make them. It’s the way my manager wants things done, and it’s my job to listen.”

Customer: *starts yelling and swearing* “I’ll be talking to your manager about how rude and lazy you are! My son wants a cookie and we want it now!”

(Her son starts to cry because her yelling has woken him up.)

Customer: “See?! You’ve upset him! My little boy has waited all day for his chocolate chip cookie and now you’re telling me he can’t have one!”

Me: “Ma’am, I never said he can’t have one—“

Customer: “Forget it! I’m calling your manager and I’m having you fired!”

(She stormed off in a huff and I handed the now-finished drinks to my first customer, who said something about being sorry I have to deal with people like that. I made a note in our communication binder about what happened in case she does complain to corporate about me, but she didn’t. Thankfully, I never saw her again.)

(I’m a manager at a storage facility. We get mostly mundane calls, but two in a row give me pause. First call, the caller ID doesn’t identify the caller as a current customer of our business.)

Me: “Good morning. [Storage Facility]; this is [My Name].”

Caller: *silence for two seconds* “I’m supposed to have a TV delivered.”

Me: “Sir, you’ve called a storage facility… Do you have a unit with us?”

(Sometimes, rarely, we’ll accept large parcel deliveries and hold them in the office if the person has a unit, or, important to this story, a mailbox.)

Caller: “You see, it’s supposed to be delivered on Wednesday.”

Me: “Sir, if you don’t have a unit with us, we don’t offer that kind of service.”

Caller: “Someone might not be home at the address in question. I just want to know if there’s a time the guy will be here.”

Me: “Sir, you’ve called a storage facility.”

Caller: “Do you know when my TV will be delivered? Can you tell me?”

Me: “Sir. I believe you have the wrong number. You’ve called a storage facility. We don’t deliver televisions.”

Caller: “You’re not Canada Post?”

Me: “No, sir, we are not.”

Caller: “But you’re under postal.”

Me: “Yes, sir, because we offer mailbox services. We are not affiliated with Canada Post.”

Caller: “Oh. You can’t tell me when my television will be delivered?”

Me: “No, sir, I’m sorry. I cannot.”

Caller: “But you’re listed under postal…”

(The caller hung up, still muttering about how we should be Canada Post if we’re listed under postal. I then got another call from a delivery company, asking how they could make an appointment to deliver something to one of my customers that I didn’t have a standing order to accept deliveries for. I couldn’t help him, either, except to direct him to call the customer and arrange for them to bring a key to their locker.)

(I am observing a class of second graders shortly before Valentine’s Day.)

Student: “Who’s Cupid?”

Me: “Well, Cupid is a baby angel who has a bow and arrow, and if he shoots you with it you fall in love.”

Student: “I wish Cupid would shoot my mom so that she’d love my dad again.”

This story is part of the Valentine’s Day 2024 roundup!

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(We have had our cat, Fritz, since he was a tiny kitten, and he’s always seen the same vet. One day, when Fritz is around eight years old, he starts spraying urine against furniture instead of going in his box. Knowing that this could be a symptom of something serious – besides being annoying and gross – I promptly make an appointment for him to see his vet.)

Vet: “Well, we’ve examined his urine for crystals, and he doesn’t have any. That can mean only one thing.” *stares at me accusingly*

Me: *after an expectant pause* “Yes?”

Vet: “You need to get him neutered. Honestly, I don’t know why you haven’t done so yet. He’s eight years old; he should have been neutered years ago.”

Me: “But–”

Vet: “No, I’m serious. This sort of spraying activity is very common in an unneutered male, and–”

Me: “But he is neutered.”

Vet: “What?”

Me: “In fact, you’re the one who did it. We had it done right after we got him from the Humane Society. It should be in his file.”

Vet: *looks at the start of the file* “Oh.”

Me: “So, something else must be causing this behaviour, right?”

Vet: *still processing the fact that he was wrong about Fritz not being fixed* “Well… are there any new cats in the neighbourhood?”

Me: “Come to think of it, yes. Our neighbour across the back lane just got a new cat. Fritz sometimes sees him through the window and hisses at him.”

Vet: “Well, there you go.” *looks at me triumphantly*

Me: “Um, what do you mean?”

Vet: “Fritz is antagonized by that new cat. He’s spraying to assert his dominance in his own home.”

Me: “Okay, so… What do I do?”

Vet: “Do? There’s nothing you can do. Apart from moving, that is!” *laughs*

(Very helpful. I started looking for a new vet after that.)

(I am at a grocery checkout waiting behind a woman when a man joins her with some more items. I don’t mind, as it’s not a lot of stuff and I’m pretty easy going. Then, suddenly, an older woman appears.)

Woman: “Excuse me.”

Me: “Oh, sorry.”

(I allow her to cut in front because I assume she is the mother of one of the people in front. As I’m waiting for their stuff to go through I start to think:)

Me: “Hmm, that’s odd; they’re not acknowledging each other.”

(That’s when the woman proceeded to put down a divider, and it became apparent that she didn’t know the couple ahead. She had just butted in front and was clearly in a hurry, but she definitely could have asked. I would’ve been more than happy to move if she had asked, but instead, I passive-aggressively shared this story.)