(A fellow I used to know had a bit of a feud going on with some members of his family at one point. What they were doing was repeatedly going to the post office and redirecting his mail, which, of course, was illegal. When he went to the post office to fix it, they wouldn’t do anything to fix the problem and even allowed it to happen again. He was at his wits’ end, so I coached him on how to fix the problem with the post office. First, I coached him on the importance of only doing it when there were a lot of people in there — an audience if you will. Here is the process I gave him.)

Postal Worker: “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?”

Friend: “Good morning.” *drops phone book on counter and open to a random page* “This person, here: I want their mail redirected to—” *flips phone book to another random page* “—this address, here.” *flips to another page* “And this person, here—” *again flipping page* “I want it sent here.”

Postal Worker: *aghast* “SIR! I can’t allow you to redirect other people’s mail! It isn’t legal!”

Friend: *loudly* “Why not? You’ve let other people do it to me four times in the last month. I should be able to screw other people over, too!”

(Other people waiting in line started to murmur. The upshot was that the station master was called to the front, and his mail was set up requiring picture ID to be presented before his mail could be redirected, thereby ending the problem.)

(I am at a sandwich shop.)

Clerk: “What will it be?”

Me: “Footlong on white, please.”

Clerk: *butterflying the bread open* “Which meat?”

Me: “Before that, could you add some marinara on the bread?”

Clerk: *adds sauce only where the meat usually goes* “Sure, like this?”

Me: “Yes, for that side. Could you add the same to the other one?”

Clerk: *puzzled, flips the foot-long closed* “You mean on the crust?”

(I recently got a new car insurance policy, and a month later, my husband’s car insurance is also up for renewal. As we weren’t married when we renewed our car insurance last year, my husband tells me I should cancel my new insurance and go on his plan to save money, which I agree with. But now I am a little concerned, as I don’t know what the cancellation policy is for my insurance. I have a conversation with the company.)

Insurance Agent: “There is no cancellation fee, but there is a charge, based on how long you have been on the policy and [a few other factors].”

Me: “Okay, so could you tell me what the charge would be, then?”

Insurance Agent: “Unfortunately, I am not able to do that. Because you haven’t been with us for long, I would recommend that you wait to cancel until your renewal date.”

Me: “So, there is no way to tell how much I would pay to cancel?”

Insurance Agent: “I couldn’t tell you that until you cancelled. I understand this is a little confusing.”

Me: “Confusing?! This is aggravating and makes absolutely no sense at all!”

(Fed up, I said goodbye and called my husband to tell him about the conversation. He was very confused and encouraged me to call back to see if I could get a clearer answer with another agent, but I was at work and had already wasted enough time with the call. A very short time later, my husband called me back, and told me he called the insurance company himself, and they gave him an answer right away, saying that I would either be getting back or paying between $5 to $20. I was baffled. If this other agent didn’t know, she should have asked someone! I couldn’t believe she told my husband literally the exact opposite thing that I had been told. I am now on my husband’s plan and we are saving approximately $800 a year on insurance.)

Related:
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 10
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 9
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 8

(My dad and I are staying with some old family friends. At one point, we decide to go visit one of his brothers, and our friend drives us there. She also brings her dog. We all have a nice time, pile back in the truck, and start heading back to their place. During the drive, she and her daughter start talking about a friend of theirs who had lost their dog. This makes me remember something…)

Me: “Wait… Where’s the dog?”

Friend: “What? OH, MY GOD, WE FORGOT THE DOG!”

(We immediately turned around, while I called my uncle and aunt. I got voicemail on both their phones, and awkwardly told thin air, “Yeah, so… We forgot a dog at your place, and we’re on our way back to come get him…” We got back to their place, my cousin let me in to retrieve the dog from the basement, and we went back on our way. Fortunately for him, he was a nearly 20-year-old, half-blind, mostly-deaf shih tzu, so I found him lounging on the couch without a care in the world, completely unaware that we had just very nearly abandoned him, and he happily sat on my lap for the ride home without a single hint of distress.)

As part of my very extensive job description, I do “additional” tech support on home safety devices; that is, I am not the priority call-taker. I help out as best as I can when needed.

One afternoon, this lady called in through our reception line instead of the help line to get help on her devices. The receptionist tried to get her information to either have someone help her out or call her back. She categorically refused to give a name, completely upset at the question. She now demanded to speak to a supervisor.

Again, the receptionist asked for a name to give to the supervisor, very politely. This time the lady lost it and started berating the receptionist. Being too polite to the customer, and knowing that I’m good at helping people, the receptionist walked over to my desk — halfway to the other end of the building — and put the cordless headset on my head, making a face that plainly said, “This one is yours; nice knowing you.” So, I introduced myself and asked how I might help.

Because it was a cordless headset, I walked back toward reception while talking just to make sure I didn’t lose the connection. After about 20 minutes of information for her products and additional info not related directly to our products — including deducing when her house was built and other features about it — she decided she wanted to talk to my manager, though she was in a good mood and thankful for my details. I “warm” transferred her to my manager after a brief recount of my conversation.

After having a quick chat with the receptionist and a bit of a laugh that the lady did not want to share even a pseudonym, I walked back to my desk. As I proceeded past my manager’s office, I heard her state to the lady, “I’m sure he’d be honoured, but he can’t do that. He’s a married father of three, and pretty loyal to his wife.” I burst out laughing.

It turned out she had a daughter in her 20s looking for a good man, and the lady was so impressed by my information, she thought I’d make a great son-in-law.

Since that night, my wife teases me about having a potential new mother-in-law.