(I’m at an amusement park with my parents. I am eleven years old. They let me loose for a minute, and I decide to hit the strip of stores outside the park. I spot a chocolate shop. I pick up a candy bar and head to the checkout.)

Me: “One chocolate caramel bar, please!”

Cashier: “Where are your parents?”

Me: “Oh, they aren’t here right now.”

Cashier: *cutting me off* “Oh, my God! It’s people like your parents that ruin this place, letting these heathens loose to run amok around the park! And you should know you need an adult to buy candy! Well, you would if you weren’t raised by idiots.”

(A woman walks over to me from the display next to the register.)

Woman: “Jimmy!” *not my name* “There you are! I’m so sorry we got separated in the crowd. Let me pay for that candy bar!”

(My “mom” paid for the candy bar and took me to the exit. I thanked her a bunch and gave her half of the bar. I had a wonderful rest of the day.)

(My family and I have ordered pizza online from a local pizza chain down the road. It is normally easier than calling our order in and having to deal with a poor employee trying to hear us over the roar of the rest of the pizza place conducting business, along with dealing with other customers. The online order comes to $24.53 total for two medium pizzas and a cookie, thanks to a deal they are running. Our order ends up being a half-hour later than what is expected, and as we are about to call the store, the driver shows up with our order. However, she has accidentally lost the receipt I was supposed to sign, since we have paid by credit card. With that, she says she guesses the order is on her and we leave it at that. Fast forward two days: I find, instead of a $24.53 transaction that shouldn’t have been claimed without my signature, I am charged $30.00 by the store, so an additional $5.57. It is too late to call the store itself, so I call the customer service hotline.)

Customer Service: “Thank you for contacting [Pizza Chain] customer care. How may I help you today?”

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name]. I placed an order with one of the local stores two days ago but there is a problem; I was charged more than what I was supposed to be. My order was only supposed to cost $24.53 but an additional $5.57 was added.”

(I proceed to explain that the driver showed up late with the food, and that we were not given a receipt to sign, and how confused I am about the additional fee being added to my order total.)

Customer Service: *in a very serious and nervous tone* “I am very sorry to hear about your experience, Mr. [My Surname]. Normally, we are not able to claim the charge without having your signature on the receipt, so the charge should have dropped off your account after thirty days. However, as you have stated, this is not the case. I am not able to view order details or payment information, but I will escalate this to upper management so they can pull the order and take a review.”

(The representative verifies my account information, email, address, phone number, and the date of the order, and promises me that a manager will be in touch with me ASAP. I get a call the following morning from the district manager.)

Manager: “Hello, I am looking for Mr. [My Name], regarding an order dispute.”

Me: “That is me. As I explained to customer service, I am not disputing that I made the order, just how much I was charged. The driver showed up and told me she had lost the receipt that I was supposed to sign, and to be honest, I thought nothing about it. Then, I saw that I was charged $30, instead of the $24.53 that I was supposed to pay. My understanding was that you wouldn’t be able to claim the charge without my signature, but the only problem is I paid more than what I should have.”

(Up until this point, the manager has had a rude tone, and clearly has not understood what the actual issue was. After I explain that it seems like the driver added a tip to my order and may have signed my name without my permission, the manager becomes very nervous and worried.)

Manager: “I am sorry for my misunderstanding, Mr. [My Surname]. Sometimes our drivers may misplace a receipt and we will just do a reprint, but obviously, it won’t have your signature on it. I will need to take a look at the order and the paperwork when I get to the store in a couple of hours, but it does sound like someone may have added a tip to your order. Can you tell me what the driver looks like? Or what car they were driving?”

(I give the manager my best description of the driver and explain that since we live in an apartment complex and our apartment is in the back of the building, I wasn’t able to see the car.)

Manager: “I see. I am pretty sure I know who you are talking about. We had other problems with her that night and had to let her go. When I get to the store, I will make sure to double-check your order and we can process a refund. Would you like that as a cash refund or does it need to go back to your credit card?”

Me: “It would be better if it could go back to my credit card, but if it is too much hassle the cash refund will be fine. Would somebody be able to drop it by my apartment? I don’t have transportation to the store.”

Manager: “We would be able to do that; I will have a driver drop it by later today. I am very sorry that this has happened to you, and I want to personally thank you for being so kind about the matter.”

(I did not start the call screaming and shouting, nor did I use a rude tone throughout the conversation. I just wanted the issue corrected, and I have been in the manager’s shoes before.)

Me: “I understand; I have had to deal with things like this before. Please have a wonderful day.”

(A driver popped by shortly after that with the refund for our order, and a note from the manager telling us that we had a credit on our account for free food to use the next time we placed an order, as a thank-you for our continued service. We still order from them, but if a driver shows up without a receipt again we call the store while the driver is at the door.)

(I work at a call center. I have just spent an all-nighter studying for two tests, and I haven’t slept — literally — at all for over 24 hours. The customer is talking whilst I am clicking the things that need to be clicked on the screen, but I start falling asleep as I am working; it feels like I have a battery that is dying. I mean to ask if she wants StretchPay, but instead, this is what comes out of my mouth:)

Me: “—and would you like syrup with your pancakes?”

(It took us both a moment before we realized in unison what I’d just said, and thankfully the customer thought it was hilarious and had sympathy for me after I briefly explained what I’d mentioned above. That was the first and only time I ever asked if they wanted syrup, thankfully.)

(I am a twenty-something blonde woman. I take my car to a small chain brake repair shop to get my rear brakes done. I cross the road and kill a few hours at the mall before I wander back, only to find my car still up on the lift.)

Worker: “Oh, there you are. Yeah. Your whole brake system is shot. We have to replace everything.”

Me: “What? No, you don’t. Just replace the rear brake pads!”

Worker: “Nope. Can’t do that. It’s not road safe. We have to do the work here and now as we can’t let that car on the road in this condition.”

Me: “How much?”

Worker: “$2,500.”

(I lose it, yelling and demanding and threatening, but he stands there unmoved. I then pull out my phone, and he asks dismissively:)

Worker: “You calling the cops?”

Me: “No. I’m calling a Teamster.”

(It isn’t a threat; I just want some advice from a good friend who is a driver, but the man’s face changes instantly.)

Worker: “Wait. What?”

(I don’t understand the fear in his eyes, but I go with it.)

Me: “Yeah. Looks like I need some help here.”

Worker: “I’ll get your keys.”

(He goes in the back and has my car lowered and pulled out of the garage by a coworker as he returns.)

Me: “No rush anymore. They’re almost here.”

(That wasn’t true. I’d actually never even dialed once I saw the fear in the man’s eyes, but I was MAD! I went out and hopped in my car. They hadn’t done any work — which I’m relieved about — so I screeched out of there and headed to a more reputable shop. I wish I’d reported them, but it never occurred to me at the time. The whole chain went under a few years later, though.)

(I have been a supervisor at a theater, but I am starting a job at a chicken chain known for excellent customer service. It is my last day at the theater, and as a way of saying goodbye, I have brought a tray of chicken strips from my new job. This chicken chain is still relatively new to our state and is quite new to our area, so many of my coworkers have never tasted it before. My boss takes a few strips and goes to sit down. A minute later, he bellows my name from halfway across the lobby. He doesn’t usually use that tone of voice unless he urgently needs my help, so I hurry over to see what he needs.)

Boss: “This chicken is amazing! This is the best employee-quitting ever!”

(It was one of the highlights of my last shift there, and I’m still laughing about it.)