I work as an ambassador for a service supported by the City of Cleveland. In general, we answer questions while out in the public, escort older people to and from various locations, clean up sidewalks, and patrol neighborhoods. 

I’m out one day on my normal route and an older gentleman approaches me. 

Older Gentleman: “Excuse me, could you tell me where the nearest public bathroom is?”

Me: “Certainly, sir. There’s a restroom a block north at the gas station on the corner of [Street #1] and [Street #2].”

Older Gentleman: “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Before I can say anything else, he proceeds to pull down his pants and s*** right on the sidewalk, pull up his pants without wiping, and calmly walk away. Then, he looks over his shoulder.

Older Gentleman: “You may want to clean that up. You can’t trust anyone these days!”

I think I died a little that day, and if it weren’t for the decent money, I would have quit on the spot.

(I do telephone surveys for patients who’ve recently visited their health center. I work with a headset.)

Me: “We’d like your feedback to improve future care; will that be okay?”

Patient: “Sure!”

Me: *reads the first question*

Patient: “What? What was that?”

(I repeat it louder and clearer and he responds. The same thing happens for the next two questions.)

Patient: “Stop speaking so close into the microphone. You’re spitting and breaking up; I can hardly hear you!”

(I oblige and slightly adjust my mouthpiece so it’s slightly above my mouth, although since I hear some static on his end, I’m not sure if he’s correct that I’m “spitting.” This cycle continues a few more times, with him asking me to repeat, and me gradually moving my mouthpiece farther and farther up to the point where I wonder how he can hear me at all, especially since I have a hoarse throat today.)

Me: *asks another question*

Patient: “You know, if you’re going to work on the phone, you should really get some phone skills! You shouldn’t be talking with your mouth so close to the phone!”

(Sick of straining my voice and fed up with his ridiculous assertions but trying to maintain professionalism and a friendly manner, I say:)

Me: “Sir, my microphone is at my eyes right now… so I’m definitely not talking into the phone. I apologize that you’re unable to hear me well.”

(Cue five seconds of silence.)

Patient: “Well, what was your question again?”

(The rest of the call proceeded smoother, although I did take to bending the microphone even further from my eyes when I had to repeat myself again. Crazy!)

(Two women ordered cocktails from me, which I garnished with lemons. I come back later on with the check and one of them, eyes wide, is holding a lemon seed.)

Woman: “I almost swallowed this.”

(I look at her blankly.)

Me: “Lemons have seeds.”

Woman: “It was in my drink!”

Me: “I… I don’t know what to tell you.”

(She and her friend exchange shocked looks. I walk away — out of sight — and tell some coworkers about it, and they agree that the woman is being ridiculous. To try to placate her, I come back and make up an apology.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I spoke to the bartenders about it, and I’m sure they’ll be more careful next time.”

Woman: “I was gagging on it!”

Me: “Do you want me to get a manager?”

Woman: “Yeah.”

(My manager talks to them. I ask him afterward what they said to him.)

Manager: “They asked me for a discount on their bill, and I told them, ‘No, absolutely not. I don’t know if you’re aware, but lemons are a fruit, and they have seeds in them.’”

(Glad my manager was on my side!)

(My museum is hosting an event with representatives from several organizations given tables to talk with guests about their services. My male, married coworker is assigned to help one of the tables and is talking to a young lady running her organization’s activities.)

Coworker: “All right, looks like everything is ready. If you need anything else, let me know.”

Lady: “I have a boyfriend.”

Coworker: “Good for you? Let me know if you need… water or something.”

Me:  “Hi. Thank you for calling [Bookstore]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi. There was a book in the New York Times that I’d like to get.”

Me: “Okay. Do you know the title, or what it’s about?”

Customer: “No, but it was a full-page ad in the newspaper.”

Me: “Okay, give me one second.”

(I go and scan through the “Times” to find anything to go off of.)

Me: “Okay, I didn’t see anything. Are you sure it was the Times? I checked today’s paper and there weren’t any full-page ads like that.”

Customer: “Today’s paper? No, this was weeks ago. Do you know the book?”

Me: *pause* “We don’t have it.”