(Our new lab technician has a sense of humour.)

Lab Tech: *pushing the dirty glassware cart along the rows of benches in the lab* “Glass for the Glass God! Glass for the Glass God!”

(We empty and rinse our used glassware and put it in her cart. She comes to the row where the lab professor works.)

Lab Tech: “Glass for the Glass God! Glass for the Glass God!”

Professor: *confused* “Wha – what?”

Lab Tech: “Do you have any dirty glassware for the glass wash?”

Professor: “Ah! Ah, no, I don’t. Thank you, though.”

Lab Tech: *next row of benches* “Glass for the Glass God! Glass for the Glass God!”

Professor: *muttering* “I know what I thought I heard.”

(The cashier rings up my purchases. I pay.)

Cashier: “Have a nice day!”

Me: “No, thanks!”

(Pause.)

Me: “Oh! I thought… Thank you! You, too!”

(I hurried out.)

(I live in the US and need to transfer money to my Danish bank account. I decide to bring a paper check with me on a vacation trip back to Denmark, because the exchange rate will be slightly better and the fees less. My Danish bank, where I have been a customer for 42 years, and where my dad has worked since I was born, has lately decided to charge fees for just about everything. Also, while I have lived in the US, I have been shuttled around between at least six different “advisors,” none of whom have I met. This incident starts as I try to deposit the check for a value of $5,500 into my Danish account.)

Me: “I’d like to deposit this check into my account with the number [account number].”

Teller: “Okay, but this is a lot of money. I need contact your advisor, and since he’s in a different branch that could take some time.”

Me: “Sure, okay, but I have never met him, so I don’t know what he can tell you about my account that you cannot see for yourself.”

Teller: *looking at me suspiciously* “I still have to do it. We cannot just accept such a large deposit. Can you wait while we call him?”

Me: “Sure.”

(Thirty minutes later, the teller comes over to the waiting area to get my wife and me.)

Teller: “Well, we got it sorted out, but really, in the future you should just make an electronic wire transfer.”

Me: “I prefer to use a check.”

Teller: “Well, you really should use a wire transfer. It is the easiest way.”

Me: “Yes, and I also know the fees are really high, not just from your side, but also from the American bank that sends it, plus the exchange rate is not very good. I prefer to avoid the fees.”

Teller: *waving the check at me* “Oh, that’s nothing compared to what I’ll be charging you in fees to deposit this!”

(I happen to know the check deposit fees are lower than the wire transfer fees, the exchange rate is the same, and there’s no fee to the American bank for issuing the check. Also, my dad has offered to cash it for me for free and get me the employee exchange rate. I just figured I’d try and take care of it myself. However, the teller’s attitude really annoys me.)

Me: *reaching for the check* “Can I have that, please?” *teller hands me the check, looking confused* “Thank you, but you know what? I’ll just ask my dad to do it for me. He works in the [City] branch of this bank, and can do it for no fees and at a better exchange rate.”

Teller: *looking surprised* “Eh, okay. So, you don’t want me to do it?”

Me: “No. Not only can I save money, but I’ll also get vastly better service! God knows you charge outrageous fees now, but you almost seem to take pride in rubbing the customers’ noses in it. Goodbye!”

(Later, when I told my dad about the teller’s attitude, he encouraged me to report it to her branch manager, but also warned me that nothing would likely come of it, as recent personnel cuts had mostly left those behind who didn’t care much to provide good customer service. As soon as my student loans are paid off, I’ll be closing that bank account.)

(I used to work in the same store as my mom. It was a small, local store where I usually worked at the checkout. Behind me was a wall of cigarettes which people could buy. Note: My mom was a smoker for most of her life and died of lung cancer. At the time this story takes place, she is still alive but heavily affected by the cigarettes, as am I. I’ve always hated all types of smoking and see no evil in telling people that it is a horrible thing to do. However, as I am working, I have to put on a professional face, which I really try to maintain during this exchange.)

Me: “Hello.”

Customer: “Hi.”

Me: “Will that be all?”

Customer: “I want a pack of cigarettes, as well.”

Me: “Of course. What brand?”

Customer: “I don’t know. Whatever you like.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I don’t smoke.”

Customer: “I don’t believe that. Everyone smokes at some point in their lives.”

Me: “Only second-hand smoking, I’m afraid. And I can’t say that I liked it. Now, what brand do you prefer?”

Customer: “You should try a real cig, then. I promise you’ll like it.”

Me: “I doubt that, sir. If you’re looking for the cheapest cigarettes, we have [Cheap Brand], but I sell many of [More Expensive Brand].”

Customer: *completely ignoring me* “I still think you should try a smoke.”

Me: “I’d really rather not. Now, what do you usually smoke, sir?”

Customer: “Oh, well, all types of cigs, of course. I ain’t got no type!”

Me: “In that case, would you like [Cheap Brand]?”

Customer: “Well, I don’t know, do I?”

(I have a long line of customers waiting. I get a bit desperate to get him away, so I say this:)

Me: “Well, my mom smokes [Expensive Brand], so I suppose I can recommend this one?”

Customer: “What does it taste like?”

Me: “Uh, I don’t know, really. But she seems to like it, so…”

Customer: “I’ll take one of those, then.”

Me: “Of course, sir. That’ll be [price].”

Customer: “Nah, those are too expensive. Can you cancel the cigs?”

Me: “Since I’ve already set the payment in motion, I can’t really cancel that particular item unless I cancel the entire thing.”

(I look at his other items, which are numerous. My coworker opens up another till and the rest of the customers rush to it, talking about how slow I was.)

Customer: “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe you should just cancel it all, then.”

Me: “I can do that for you, if you think that’ll be best.”

Customer: “Nah, I’ll take it, anyway.”

(When he finally completes the payment, he opens the cigarettes and leaves one on my till.)

Customer: “That’s your tip!”

(I work at the self-service checkout. A mother and her young son, probably around two years old, come and start scanning their items. The son is very energetic and he starts to climb up on the part of the machine that weighs the items. A messages pops up on the screen saying that there’s an unknown item in the bagging area.)

Me: “I’m so sorry, but this part of the machine is actually a scale, so when your son is climbing around on it, it gets all confused. You won’t be able to continue to scan until he’s down from there.”

(The mom doesn’t speak very good Danish and is obviously a little confused, but she grabs her son and puts him on the floor. He immediately runs out of the self-service area and stands at the front end of the store. The mother looks after him, but then continues her scanning, so I follow the boy to keep an eye on him. Usually, kids will run over to the bakery department to look at cakes, but not this boy. When he sees I’m following him, he starts to run, laughing, towards the store exit. Even though I’m not supposed to leave the self-service area, I decide to follow him, to see if he is actually going to leave the store. I doubt that he will, but our store is placed on a very busy street that has a lot of both bikes and cars. The boy runs out of the store, and I start running after him. I almost lose him out on the sidewalk, because there are people everywhere, but I manage to grab him right before he enters the busy bike lane. I pick him up, and he grins at me. I carry him back into the store and give him to his mother.)

Me: “You better hold on to him. I just got to him before he ran out onto the road.”

Mother: “Oh, okay.”

(She picked him up and held him for the rest of the transaction. I didn’t get a thank-you.)