I used to have my mobile phone set up through Australia’s largest telecommunications company. When I would receive my bill, I also received a printout of all the phone numbers I supposedly called during the month. I never looked at it… until this one time.

I called the company. The representative did their spiel, clarified my information, etc., and asked how they could help. 

Me: “There’s a mistake on my bill. There are phone calls I didn’t make.” 

Representative: “I can assure you that our records are never wrong.”

Me: “Well, this time, they are.”

Representative: “Okay, ma’am, please tell me which date, time, and number.” 

I do so.

Representative: “Do you not recognise the number, ma’am? You’ve called that number in previous months.”

Me: “Yes, I do recognise it, but I didn’t call it this month.”

Representative: “Perhaps someone else used your phone to call them?”

Me: “No, no one would take my phone without my permission anyway, but they wouldn’t have called that number. It was my fiancé’s number when he was overseas, but he’s been back here in the country for two months.”

Representative: “Maybe it was a different fiancé.”

Me: “Um, what?”

The line goes silent, except I can hear the cogs turning. 

Representative: “I’ll get that fixed for you.”

I have just come home from the hospital after having a baby. We’re both doing fine, but I’m still tired, sore, and cranky from pushing a human being out of my body. The phone rings after I get settled in and my husband hands me the phone.

Caller: “Hi! This is [Caller] with [My Alma Mater], and we’re reaching out to all our alumni for our annual donation drive. What can we put you down for?”

Me: “Look, [Caller]. This is a really bad time. I just came home from having a baby a couple of hours ago. Can you call back sometime next week after I’ve had time to recover?”

Caller: “Oh, congratulations! So, we have several options for donations…”

Me: “I don’t think you heard me. I had a baby yesterday. I got home from the hospital two hours ago. I’m not in the mood to talk about donations today.”

Caller: “I understand this may be a difficult time for you, but we use these donations for scholarships. I see here that you yourself benefitted from our scholarship program.”

Me: “Okay. Hon? I’m trying to be nice to you. But having a baby means medical bills. I’m not even sure I’ll have money to donate this year. Unless you’re personally going to help me out with those bills, don’t expect a donation from me this year.”

The caller hurriedly apologized and hung up. Was it something I said?

A few years ago I interviewed for a job (in the US) that was labeled as a senior-level position, which is my level of experience in this field.

I went through two phone interviews and a stellar in-person interview. Shortly after the in-person interview, they called me and said they absolutely loved me and that I would be a great fit at the company. However, they thought I was “a little too green” (implying I was inexperienced) for the senior-level position, but lucky for me, they had an opening for the junior-level position (at a salary decrease).

I kindly told them that the reason I’d applied to their job posting in the first place was that it was a senior-level position and that I wasn’t going to take a step backward in my career by taking a junior-level position since I had both the appropriate experience and the work history. I also let them know that trying to trick someone with senior-level experience into taking a junior-level position by stringing them along through interviews and a job offer was deceptive and unethical.

There was silence over the phone for a moment and then the interviewer said in an offended tone:

Interviewer: “Well, we’ve all had to make sacrifices for [Company]!”

Me: “You may have had to, but I don’t make sacrifices for anyone.”

Stunned silence.

Then, the interviewer, who was so appalled that they didn’t know what to say, replied:

Interviewer: “Well… maybe you can think about it and I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

Me: “No, thank you, and please don’t call me.”

I hung up the phone.

They do this a lot to young females like me in a variety of industries. Don’t take crap from anybody. Know your qualifications, believe in them, and tell abusers to [bug] right off. Your talents will be appreciated and paid for elsewhere, I promise you.

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We owned a small but popular fine-dining restaurant. Our phone number had the same first four digits as the local branch of a big bank. Apparently, their transfer system was to dial a three-digit extension number from an in-house phone only. But employees wanting the loan department would dial the first four shared digits and the three-digit extension number, which, of course, was our phone number.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant]. How may I help you?”

Bank Employee #1: “Loan department, please.”

Me: “This is [Restaurant]. You need to check your phone procedures.”

After two or three calls a day, I figured out what was happening and calmly relayed what they were doing wrong, but the calls kept coming. I called customer assistance at the bank and crawled up the chain of command trying to find a solution.

The employee I spoke to clearly didn’t care about my problem.

Bank Employee #2: “You’ll have to change your phone number, I guess.”

Me: “No. This is your problem to fix. The next time I get a call, I will politely ask your employee to hold, and it might be a few minutes until someone is available. I have four lines, so you may have lots of people wasting their time and your money on hold because you’re too lazy to send out a memo.”

The calls miraculously stopped.

My bike needs a tuneup, and I’m too busy to do it myself. My usual bike shop is swamped, so I go to another one that’s close to my work. I get a slightly patronizing vibe from the guy who helps me, but they’ve got decent reviews online, so I leave my bike with them anyway.

A day or so later, I get an email from the shop, letting me know my rear wheel has a crack in the rim, and they can replace it entirely for [total]. I decline, since I have a spare wheel at home, and if the hub is fine, I can rebuild the wheel myself when I have time.

They call me a few days later to say the tuneup is finished. I go there directly after work to pick it up. The mechanic comes out to talk to me.

Mechanic: “I really think you should let us replace the wheel.”

Me: “It’s okay; I’m replacing it myself.”

Mechanic: “But you can’t ride it until it’s replaced.”

Me: “I know.”

Mechanic: “Look, I don’t think you understand. It’s not safe to ride on a cracked rim.”

Me: “I’m aware of that. As I said, I will replace the wheel at the first opportunity.”

Mechanic: *Starting to raise his voice slightly* “You can’t ride it out of here!” 

I glance down at myself, still in my work clothes, and back up at him. 

Me: “Dude, I brought a car to take the bike home in. Did you really think I was planning to cycle in a pencil skirt and heels?”