Caller: *Speaking really fast* “I need to place an order to pick up at one of your stores as soon as possible.”

Me: “Sure, I can help you out with that.”

Our computer will autofill with the customer’s information if they’ve ever called us from that number before, but on this one, my screen is blank. We also have several locations they can pick up from, so the customer has to specify. Getting all of this information is part of the normal order procedure for basically any company out there, I would think.

Caller: “Great, we have an emergency. I need [five items] for pickup as fast as you can.”

Me: “Okay, and let me get some more information. Can I have your name, please?”

Caller: *Somehow speaking even faster* “MynameisJohn, putitundermyname.” *Hangs up*

I was dumbfounded! He didn’t provide his last name, his billing information, payment method, or the location he wanted to pick up from! Normally, I would have tried calling him back on the number from the caller ID, but — of course — my call log showed my last call as “Anonymous” with no number recorded. I mentioned this to my supervisor sitting nearby, who rolled his eyes and said, “What a dumba**.”

To the poor employee working the pickup counter at one of our locations: I am really, really sorry if John with no last name showed up and gave you an earful for not having his order ready!

I work for a telephone service that occasionally takes overflow calls from a pest control company. There were wasps everywhere and our client is slammed with calls, so we have to take quite a lot of them. In fact, we have to take so many of them that we have to hire new temp staff and every corner of the office where there is space for a desk and a phone has a desk and a phone.

One of our new temp staffers was our boss’s eighteen-year-old nephew. He was great on the phone, completely unflappable, and very good with the customers. However, he had only had a few hours’ worth of training on the telephone system and wasn’t 100% comfortable with the button-pushing.

The policy when we got abusive customers on the line and couldn’t handle them on our own was to transfer them to our boss, and if he couldn’t handle them, he’d transfer them to the client and let them deal with them.

It was late in the day and we were all completely exhausted from taking non-stop calls. The boss’s nephew got a call from an irate customer who was screaming so loud that I could hear it from across the room.

The poor nephew asked the boss for help, and the boss told him to transfer the customer to his phone.

The nephew tried to do exactly that, but unfortunately pressed the wrong button and the abusive customer was transferred… directly to our fax machine.

Please bear in mind that we were all extremely exhausted at this point and just waiting for the moment when we would be allowed to close the switchboard, but we all had to excuse ourselves, mute our calls, and break down into hysterical laughter.

We never heard anything more about it from our client, but from that day on, whenever someone had an abusive customer, we just told them to “transfer them to the fax.”

The company I work for features a family name in the company name; let’s say the Smith company. Through various circumstances that aren’t important to the story, the family who now owns the business is NOT the Smiths; let’s call them the Jones family. The Jones family has owned the company for decades; i.e., no more Smiths left at the Smith company.

Caller: “Hi, I’d like to speak to Mr. Smith, please.”

Me: “Sorry, do you have a first name for Mr. Smith?”

Caller: *Condescendingly* “You know, your boss. The guy who owns your company, Mr. Smith? His name is on the company? He’s expecting a call from me!”

Me: *Laughs* “I’m certain he’s not.”

Caller: “Excuse me? Do you know who I am?”

Me: “No, and apparently, you don’t know who you’re trying to reach, either.” *Click*

I have recently started work as a customer service agent on the phone lines for a major cleaning chemical company. This call takes place in mid-January and is by no means rare, but this customer is more honest than most.

I introduce myself and verify that I have the correct account on my screen.

Customer: “I have a question about my invoices.”

Me: “Certainly! I have them pulled up here. What is your question?”

Customer: “I received a late notice in the mail saying I have invoices from May and June of last year. How is that possible?!”

Me: “Oh! Do you have proof from your bank statement that a payment for these invoices was taken out?”

Customer: “No. I didn’t write any checks for those months.”

Me: “So… would you like to make a payment now over the phone?”

Customer: “No, I’ll wait until Monday.”

And then they hung up. I do not know how they expected invoices to be paid when they did not, in fact, pay them.

Related:
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 22
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 21
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 20
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 19
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 18

I work for customer service for a large homeowners’ association. In the Netherlands, homeowners of flats can join a “Professional HOA.” Homeowners can take care of HOA things themselves or hire our services. My company oversees hundreds of HOA complexes this way. 

I get an email.

Client: “Yesterday, my intercom unit was replaced. The new one is beautiful — thank you. Since it was moved to a different spot, it left a damaged spot of concrete on the wall. The technician said he had a plate to cover the spot. It was possible I might see a few edges, which I could touch up with paint. He put the plate on the spot and left right after. I am afraid I cannot agree with this solution. Please, see the attached picture. I assume you will easily understand why.”

I opened the picture and stared at the screen, flabbergasted. The technician had placed a round plate about the size of a fist over a rectangular piece of concrete the size of a lower arm. 

After I composed myself — I admit, it took a while — I sent the photo to our technical department, requesting a “slightly more suitable solution.” When I checked up on the case a day later — I was curious and worried that my sarcasm might not have been clear enough — I saw this picture had been sent to the manager of the technicians. The homeowner would get a normal wall again, and the technician was written up.