(I work as the guest services manager at a hotel. Early one morning, around 9:00 am, a local resident comes in looking for a room. She pays cash and leaves a deposit, and since we have a vacant room already cleaned, I agree to check her in. Around 2:30 pm, the customer comes back to the front desk.)

Me: “Hi! Is everything okay?”

Customer: “Oh, yes. There’s just been a change of plans. I won’t be needing this room tonight, after all, so I’ll be checking out now.”

(At this point, I prepare for a fight, because housekeeping has just finished for the day. I won’t be able to refund her room charge if the room has been used in any way, because I can’t rent it out until it has been properly cleaned.)

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. I will have to go check the room, though, before I can—”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, no problem! I just took a shower, had a nap, nothing crazy in there. No damage, I promise.”

Me: “Yes, well, unfortunately, housekeeping is finished for the day, and since the room has been used, I won’t be able to refund your money today. You see—”

Customer: “Oh, I know.”

Me: *pause* “What?”

Customer: “I said, ‘I know.’ I don’t want my money back; I just wanted to pick up my deposit.”

Me: “Oh! Well, in that case, you’re all set to go.”

Customer: “Oh, good. I was starting to think something was wrong.”

Me: “My gosh, no. It’s just that normally when this happens, people expect to get their money back, and they fight with us.”

Customer: “Really?”

Me: “Oh, yes. You have no idea. I’ve had people check in at 3:00 pm, and at 11:00 pm, they want to leave and be refunded or have the charge removed from their credit card. People get really aggressive about it, too; last month we had to call the police on a woman because she was trying to get in the office to assault my front desk clerk. She destroyed part of my lobby!”

Customer: “Really? That’s unbelievable. You would think people would understand the concept of paying for what they use or consume. Some people just never grow up.”

Me: “Well, here’s your deposit back, and thank you again for not pitching a fit.”

Customers: “No worries. Thanks a lot!”

(Best customer I’ve had in weeks.)

(I work in the box office of a dinner theatre. When I was first hired, I was told that one of the perks of the job was getting two free tickets for each new show. They then took this perk away, which meant that if I wanted to see the show, I had to pay full price. Since the tickets are expensive and I am a poor student, I rarely do this.)

Customer: *on the phone* “I’d like to ask you some questions about [Show].”

(They ask me some basic questions, such as, “who’s in it,” “how long is it,” “what’s the plot,” etc. I answer all the questions based on the information I’ve been given by my boss.)

Customer: “Is it funny?”

Me: “Oh, yes. It’s a comedy.”

Customer: “Do you think it’s funny?”

Me: “I haven’t actually seen it yet, sir, so I can’t answer that.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, who can?”

Me: “I’m afraid I’m on my own tonight, so there’s no one else to ask. I could get one of my colleagues to call you tomorrow, if you like.”

Customer: “Never mind. Is there swearing?”

Me: “There is a profanity warning, yes.”

Customer: “What kind of swearing? The ‘s’ word? The ‘f’ word?”

Me: “I’m sorry; since I haven’t seen it, I don’t know for sure.”

Customer: “Fine.” *hangs up*

(I didn’t think any more about that call until a few days later. I came in for my shift and found a letter hanging from our bulletin board. It was a furious rant from that customer, saying how incompetent I was, how little help I’d been, and how he would never come to any of our shows if that was the kind of idiot they’d hire for their box office. The only upside was that he hadn’t gotten my name, and he didn’t specify the date on which he’d called. Good thing, too, because my boss went on a tirade about that letter, vowing to fire the person responsible. I quit shortly after that.)

(There is a notice up in the back room for people to apply to a manager position. I am currently an associate, but I have been working at the company for a year while most other employees are brand new. I don’t want to become a manager, though, and the deadline passes with only new people applying. Two days past the deadline, the current manager pulls me aside.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], why didn’t you apply?”

Me: “Oh, I’m taking summer school and I’m worried about not being able to balance the two well.”

(She pulls me out for these talks for the next two days until she eventually convinces me I can do it. I submit my application, and two weeks later I get a phone call.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], we didn’t go with you for the manager position, but you can reapply in July.”

Me: “Oh, okay… Can I ask why? I mean, you asked me personally for two days to apply, so…”

Manager: “Well, we were worried you’d be so focused on school that you wouldn’t be able to give it your all at the store.”

Me: “Sure, that makes sense, but… I mean… when you asked me to apply, I told you I had summer school, yet you still asked me to apply.”

Manager: “Yeah, I guess I did… Oh, well, sorry about that.”

(I quit two months later because the new manager they hired who “had more time to focus on the store” ended up being a huge screw-up.)

(It is 2015. None of our upholstered furniture pieces have a factory warranty on the fabric or the stuffing for more than one year. I take a phone call in customer service.)

Customer: “Yes, I bought a sofa set from you people, and the cushions are starting to compress.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll just need your phone number to look up your account.”

(I pull up her info and flip through all her bills only to find a sofa set purchased in 2007, which we haven’t carried since 2009.)

Me: “Is this the set you purchased in 2007?”

Customer: “Yes. They actually started doing this about four years ago. My friend said I should call you about it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid your warranty expired in 2008.”

Customer: “Well, if I don’t get service on this, I guess I won’t be shopping through you ever again.”

(Yes. That absolutely makes sense. About as much sense as me calling Ford and demanding service cause my 1979 Lincoln leaks oil.)

(At the store where I work, when we bag bottles of nail polish, we put them in smaller bags, separate from other items. A customer has purchased some items, and forgoes the bag for her items.)

Me: “Here, please at least let me put the nail polish in a separate bag.”

Customer: “Oh, no, thank you.”

Me: “Are you sure? They are glass.”

Customer: “Don’t worry; I’ve handled a lot of glass items in this bag before.”

(The customer drops the nail polish, and it smashes on the floor. We just stare at it for a second, and then look at each other.)

Customer: “Well… that was good timing.”