A few years back my dad and I stopped at a popular burger chain so he could grab some lunch. I’ve always liked their competitor’s food better, so I excused myself to use the restroom while he ordered.  

The ladies’ room was fully decorated in twenty-year-old wallpaper and faded tiles, complete with grime and dust bunnies. But I decided any port in a storm, and I had just finished washing my hands when I noticed I wasn’t alone. A very large, cockroach-type creature was trying to crawl up a tile lining the gap between the walls and the flooring. I could only watch, horrified, as the dark brown insect suddenly shuddered, fell to the floor, and flipped over on its back. It didn’t move at all, and by this point, I was fairly certain it was dead. This wouldn’t have been as terrifying if the restroom had had any sort of insect poison hidden behind the toilet or the trash can… but nope, nothing was visible.  

So, I hastily dried off my hands and scurried out to the table where my father was happily eating his meal. I didn’t want to put off his food, so I waited until we’d left to explain why I’d answered, “NO!” so quickly when he’d asked if I wanted anything.

The last time we went past that particular location, the restaurant was closed. But I’m still haunted by the question of what killed that massive bug. Was it a very well-hidden poison? Or was it the cooking?

(A woman is calling to check on the status of her order. She has given me her name and company.)

Me: “Do you have your order number with you today?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: *after leaving a short pause so I won’t talk over her if she starts giving the number right away* “And what is your order number?”

Caller: *no reply*

Me: “Ma’am?”

Caller: *no reply*

Me: “Are you still there, [Caller]?”

Caller: “I’m still here.”

Me: “May I have the order number, please, ma’am?”

Caller: “Oh, I thought you were waiting for something.”

(I am fresh out of massage school, working for a spa chain. Before I start, they give me a list of modalities, so I can put check marks next to which ones I do — for example, prenatal massage, hot stone therapy — but since I am fresh out of school I don’t do much. I check boxes for Swedish, deep-tissue massage, hands and feet, and that’s about it. This chart is for front desk eyes only, at some point they accidentally leave it on the counter and my client sees it. I take my client back and ask what he’d like to work on.)

Client: “Do you specialize in anything other than hands and feet?”

Me: “I actually do not specialize in hands and feet. We can fit the massage to whatever is bothering you, or we could do a full body.”

Client: “It says up front that you specialize in hands and feet.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not sure where it says that, but I do not specialize in hands and feet. Are there any areas that are sore or bothering you?”

Client: *getting flustered* “Well, it says all you do is hands and feet, and I’m just trying to ask what else you specialize in!”

Me: “I don’t really have an area of the body that I specialize in. I can work on anything that you want.”

Client: *getting madder* “Okay. So. Hands and feet? You don’t specialize in anything else?!”

Me: *getting nervous* “We could do whatever you like. Or a full body. Would you like a full body?”

Client: “No! I guess I’ll take half the time on my feet and the other half on my hands.”

Me: *defeated* “Okay. I’ll step out of the room to wash my hands. You can put your clothes on the chair and get under the covers, face down.”

(During the foot massage, he mentioned twice that he could barely feel anything, and both times I told him that was as deep as I could go and offered to work on a different area. Both times he said no. Then, after the massage, he told the front desk that it was the “weirdest” massage he’d ever had. When they relayed the message I told them that it was the weirdest massage I’d ever given! This is when I discovered they’d left the paper out where I had put a check by “hands and feet.”)

(A regular customer of mine comes in on a busy Saturday morning for her monthly trim. She is very particular, but we get along really well. I have been cutting her hair for at least ten years. After I cut her hair, I ask her to feel it, show her the back with a hand mirror, let her hold the mirror and look at it herself, and she confirms she is satisfied with her trim… except for one thing. She wants the back shorter. This is a usual request, but this time she specifically said she wanted it left longer, so I am surprised when she asks me to go shorter. I tell her to give it a try for a couple days and if she still wants to go shorter, I will do it for free. She agrees and leaves the salon. Two hours later, she comes back, red-faced.)

Me: “Hi! Did you decide you wanted to go shorter after all?”

Customer: “No! You cut my hair way too short! This is terrible! How dare you do this to me? You used to be such a good hairdresser!”

Me: *stunned* “I’m very sorry you feel that w—“

Customer: *cutting me off* “You stop talking and give me my money back! Not another word!”

Me: “I understa—“

Customer: “NOT ANOTHER WORD! GIVE ME MY MONEY!”

(I hand her the money and she leaves, and I think it’s all over. But wait! There’s more! Two weeks later, she comes in and demands “the free haircut” I apparently promised her and makes a big fuss about how long I left her hair. I gently ask her to not return to my salon, as I no longer feel I could meet her needs since she so bluntly told me I suck at my job. She shouts at me, and tells me this is unacceptable because:)

Customer: “I live so close to here, but you want me to find a new salon?”

(I mean, we live in a city with a thousand salons, sooo… Yes. Yes, I do.)

(My mother works as a customer service representative for a company that makes lamps. About five years ago, they started listing all of their products online, rather than in print. Today she told me about a particular customer that called her.)

Mom: “Thank you for calling [Company]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, I have an old catalog of yours, and I was wondering if you could send me a more current one.”

Mom: “You can see our most current catalog online at [Website].”

Caller: “No, no, I need it in a book.”

Mom: “The last physical copy of our catalog was printed in 2012. Our catalog is online now.”

Caller: “So you haven’t been making lamps since 2012?”

Mom: “No, we still make lamps. Our catalog is on our website, [Website].”

(The caller starts to get angry.)

Caller: “No, no, no! I need a physical copy of your catalog to put on my shelf! Send me your most recent catalog in a book!”

Mom: “Sir, I can’t do that. We don’t print our catalog anymore. You need to use our website.”

(This went back and forth for another minute or so before the caller hung up. Some people just can’t take no for an answer.)