I am working customer service when a customer comes up to complain about a policy issue, something I have no control over and can do nothing about.

Me: *Smiling politely* “I’m so sorry, but that is the store policy—”

Customer: *Interrupting me* “You don’t look very sorry with that smile!”

I instantly lose the smile, put a devastated expression on my face, and start speaking with a shaky, trembling voice, as if I’m about to burst out crying.

Me: “I… I am so terribly, terribly, sorry, sir. I wish there was something I could do. I feel utterly dreadful that I am forced to treat you this way… but I have no power in this situation.”

The customer stares at me in complete shock, jaw-dropping open.

I can’t keep a straight face and start laughing. Fortunately for me, the customer joins in.

Customer: “Wow, you should be an actress!”

Me: “Did I look sorry enough for you?” *Smiles brightly* “It’s true, though; I really don’t have any control of the situation. If you want to complain to the head office, I’ll give you the number.”

Customer: “No, but thanks for the laugh!” *Leaves with a smile*

If you can make them laugh, they can’t stay mad at you.

Me: “Excuse me, do you sell any vegan cosmetics or toiletries?”

Employee #1: “Any what?”

Me: “Vegan products?”

Employee #1: “Um… I’ll go and ask.”

She approaches [Employee #2] and [Employee #3], unaware that I’ve followed her.

Employee #1: “This lady wants to know if we sell vee-gen stuff?”

Employee #2: “What’s vegan?”

Employee #3: “Isn’t it where you don’t eat animals and fish and stuff?”

Employee #1: “I have no idea. I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

Me: “I was talking about vegan-approved toiletries and cosmetics. I’ve been given a voucher for Christmas and I don’t buy anything animal-tested.”

Employee #1: “Well, you could have said you just wanted non-animal-tested products; we have No7 products right here and they’ve not tested for twenty years now.”

Me: “And none of their ingredients are tested, either?”

Employee #3: *Raises eyebrows* “I’m sorry, but do you even know what veganism is?”

Me: “Yes. Do you?”

Employee #3: *Complacently* “It’s when you don’t consume animals, fish, or dairy. This isn’t a grocery store, so I don’t know where cosmetics and toiletries even come into this.”

Me: “Actually, veganism is a lifestyle choice that involves not exploiting animals in any way. This means you don’t eat them, eat anything derived from them, use them for entertainment, wear them, or use anything that’s been tested on them.”

Employee #2: *Nervously* “Oh… okay.”

Employee #3: “Okay, then. Tell me, where does one buy these ‘vegan’ products? What brands can you name that are ‘vegan’?”

Employee #2: *Genuinely* “Yes, what brands are vegan?”

Me: “Have you ever heard of the leaping bunny?”

The employees stay silent.

Me: “What about PETA?”

The employees stay silent again.

Me: *Sigh* “Well, anything with a picture of a little white bunny leaping in the air means it’s vegan, but in terms of actual brands: Lush, Beauty Without Cruelty, JĀSÖN Natural, etc.”

Employee #2: “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think we do any of that here.”

Employee #3: “I’ll give you Lush, but I’ve never even heard of the other two!”

Me: “Well, it’s what I normally buy, so…”

Employee #3: “Look, we do cosmetics that haven’t been tested on animals, but they still contain… like… animal fat or whatever it is.” *Laughs*

Me: “Forget it. I’ll spend my voucher on nuts and fruit.”

Related:
Their Vegan Knowledge Is A Bit Sloppy

I go to an international hamburger shop for a late lunch. The shop is basically empty, but after I place my order, it is several minutes before my order is ready, despite being a very simple order.

Rude Worker: *Laying down my tray* “We messed it up.”

She then turns and vanishes into the back before I can say anything. I assume her statement is an explanation for the delay and take my order to the table. However, when I open up my sandwich, I find that they had given me a burger rather than the chicken sandwich I ordered.

I go back to the counter and have to wait for a minute or two before the employee from before wanders out again.

Me: “Excuse me. You gave me the wrong sandwich.”

The rude worker stares blankly at me.

Me: *Holds up my receipt* “I ordered a [Chicken Sandwich] and this is a burger.”

Rude Worker: *Shrugs* “We mixed it up.”

Me: *Expectant pause* “So, can you fix it, please?”

The rude worker rolls her eyes before scooping up my tray, turning, and dumping the entire contents into a large trash can by the counter, and then walking off into the back.

Me: “Hey!”

No response. I wait for a few more minutes, calling out a couple more times, before a different worker walks out, looking a bit confused.

Helpful Worker: “Oh, have you been helped?”

Me: “No. I ordered earlier, but your coworker gave me the wrong item, and when I asked for the right item, she dumped the meal in the trash and ran off into the back.”

I hold out the receipt that I am still holding and point toward the trash can. The worker checks them both, a look of utter bafflement on her face.

Helpful Worker: “Oh. Well, I’ll get this made up for you right away.”

In just over a minute, I have my meal and am headed back to my seat. The rude worker comes back out and apparently decides she needs the last word.

Rude Worker: *Almost shouting* “Are you happy now?!”

Helpful Worker: “[Rude Worker]! What the h***?!”

I ended up just picking up the meal and leaving the restaurant to eat elsewhere.

About two decades ago, I started to do extensive research about true crimes. It led me to write my first book, and several of them since. Being the early 2000s, digital cameras were still very expensive, so, when I went to archives or libraries for documentation, when I couldn’t do copies — which happened a lot, because old documents were too large or fragile — I pretty much had to integrally transcript on a notebook each and every newspaper article I needed for my stories. That was long, and sometimes exhausting, but totally worth it.

When I left my folks to live near Paris, I did buy a digital camera and a laptop, and man, did it radically change my efficiency!

But when I went to the main French library, I was scolded like a child by librarians when I tried to take pictures of newspaper articles. I was very surprised; that was the first and only place I was reprimanded for it, so I thought there were special rules I didn’t know about. Since I didn’t like their tone, the place, and a few other things about it, I stopped going there for almost a decade. 

But to be honest, the library was the best place to go to find pretty much every French newspaper ever published without having to drive hours to go to local archives, where staff were usually way nicer and none used such drastic rules! Since one of my books truly needed every piece of information available, I drove to about sixty different places throughout the country to complete my files during the next few years.

Meanwhile, some colleagues confirmed for me that no other study place in France worked that way — only official archives, and even then, only with files containing sensitive information, and absolutely not newspapers. So, I tried my luck again in the library, only to be rebuked once again when they saw I brought my camera. I tried to ask if they were sure they weren’t wrong, but it was like talking to a wall, so I called it a day and used my laptop to type the articles.

I went there about ten times in two months, and a librarian eventually noticed that I was ordering about twenty newspapers on each visit. He asked me about my work, and when I explained I had to copy articles, he asked, “Don’t you ever bring your camera? It would be way faster!

“But every time I’ve tried that, your colleagues have told me it’s forbidden!” I exclaimed.

“Not at all!” he assured me.

The truth was that about a week before that precise day, library management did realize that laws had changed about photographs in libraries and did accordingly apply them. The problem was that my very first try at that library happened… about six months after the law was effective.

I honestly couldn’t repeat each and every curse word that came right away to my mind about these bureaucrats without being censored definitely there.

But believe me, there was a huge bunch of them.

When I am a teenager, my grandmother takes me out shoe shopping at a department store. We have been browsing around, seeing if anything catches our eye at a few stores in the mall.

One of the sales ladies greets us as soon as we walked in. That’s not at all unusual. What is unusual is her persistence. 

Sales Lady: “Is there anything I can help you find today?”

Grandmother: “No, thank you. We’re just looking.”

Not a full minute later…

Sales Lady: “Is there something in particular I can help you find today?”

Grandmother: *Much more firmly* “No, thank you. We’re fine.”

Only a few minutes later, when Grandma picks up a shoe to show it to me…

Sales Lady: “Is there a size I can get that in for you to try on?”

Grandmother: *Very curt now* “Honey, I will let you know if we need any help.”

I know my grandma very well, and by her tone, I know that this lady has pushed her much, much further than is wise. For reference, my grandma is one of those little old southern ladies who you never want to get on the wrong side of at the church potluck, you know? I know a “bless your heart” is coming and when it does, d***.

We eventually find a shoe I like.

Grandma: “Want to try this one on?”

Sales Lady: *Appearing instantly* “What size can I get for you?”

Grandma: “Actually, is there someone else here who can help us?”

Sales Lady: *Shocked* “Well, yes, but can I ask why I can’t help you today?”

Grandma: *With a loving smile and a honey-sweet voice* “I’m so sorry, sugar, but I just can’t buy shoes from someone wearing the ugliest pair I’ve ever seen.”

Needless to say, the lady’s coworker helped us with the purchase, and I went home with a new pair of boots and another reason to add to the list of why you don’t push Grandma too far.