CONTENT WARNING: Mention Of Suicide

I work as a tech support agent for a very well-known retailer in the UK. I’ve worked here for about two weeks. A customer calls in regarding their appliance. We get through the basics and get to the bottom of what’s wrong.

Me: “Unfortunately, our engineers are currently on a bit of a backlog, so the soonest we can get someone out is in ten days. Shall I book that—”

Customer: “Ten days?! What the f*** do you expect me to do for ten f****** days?!”

Me: “Firstly, please do not swear; we operate with a three-strike policy, after which we—”

Customer: “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t say, you t**t!”

Me: “Ma’am, please can you refrain from such language? As I was saying, the earliest we can get someone out to you is in ten days. I can put you on a cancellation list, but I can’t confirm a sooner date for you.”

Customer: “No, you will get me a date in the next forty-eight hours, or I will have your stupid f****** a** fired!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, this is your third warning; you need to stop using language like that. Now, as I said, I will get you on a cancellation list, so if another customer cancels their repair, you can get that slot instead, but I can’t guarantee this for you. What time would you be available on that date?”

Customer: “I won’t be at all, considering I will have killed myself. I hope you know, if I kill myself, that it is your f****** fault.”

At this point, I just freeze. I just recently lost a close friend to suicide, and hearing this really strikes me; I do feel guilty as I thought I could have done more for them.

Me: “…”

Customer: “You won’t hang up on me now will you, huh? Now, get me an earlier appointment.”

At this time, I am unaware, but for the last few minutes, my training supervisor has been monitoring the call, and at this point, they decide to intervene.

Supervisor: “No, my agent will not be terminating this call. However, as you have stated that you intend to take your own life, I must advise you that we have notified the authorities as we take these cases very seriously, and if we believe that you may be a danger to yourself or others, we must ensure your safety. Now, however, I will be terminating this call myself. Thank you for calling. Goodbye.”

I take a minute to compose myself.

Me: “I’m sorry, [Supervisor]. I didn’t know how to deal with that.”

Supervisor: “[My Name], don’t be silly. You are a new agent, and you managed to compose yourself well!”

That supervisor is the reason I stayed at that job through calls like that, and now I work with them more closely in an admin role. I still have the odd customer call, but helping agents deal with bad customers makes me feel so much better.

I was working my new job, and I had been told all of the procedures necessary to do it well. We gave out discount cards so if you purchased six coffees, your next one was free.

I was working the bottom window. The order taker had put through the correct size for a free drink using the free coffee discount. I got the drinks ready and handed them out.

The customer then looked at me angrily.

Customer: “Why is it a medium drink? I paid for large ones!”

I then looked at their order and receipts again.

Me: “You used your discount to get the free coffee; that size is medium. You haven’t paid for these drinks; it’s free.”

Maybe it was my seventeen-year-old mind being so blunt about it, but those had always been the rules as far as I was taught.

Customer: *Disgusted* “Well, you are just a c**t, then!”

Then, he took the coffee from me and drove away!

I closed the window and turned round to my coworkers, who were shocked at what had happened since it was my first day. I just laughed.

Me: “Well, I guess I am a c**t for not giving those p**sies what they wanted.”

I have now been working there for five years, and so far, the customer has never been right!

There was a coworker at the firm I once worked at who I always got along with okay. We’d share pictures of our pets and talk about the weather (British). But one day she went completely off the rails.

It was a few months before my wedding, and my now-husband and I had just bought our first house. I was talking about all the fun we’d had moving our stuff in.

Coworker: “Oh, how big is the house?”

Me: “Pretty small terrace, two bedrooms.”

Coworker: “I hope you get pregnant soon!”

Me: “Eh, what? I don’t want kids; I’ve said that several times. I’m even saving up for an operation to make d*** sure I never have any.”

Coworker: “You should have bought a smaller place, then. There’s no need for two bedrooms if you’re not having babies.”

Me: “That’s daft. We need a second bedroom for all our hobbies. Gaming stuff takes up room.”

Coworker: “You do realise I could report you for this?”

Me: “Do what? To whom?!”

Coworker: “The government. You’re depriving a real family of a home. And also to social services because you are insane. Getting yourself mutilated just because you don’t like children and then buying a house that’s made for children means you’re insane.”

There wasn’t anything professional I could say back at that point, although there were plenty of unprofessional words I wanted to say. The next day, it was like she’d forgotten all about it. 

Then, four months later, she found out we’d not invited any children or babies to our wedding. She went off again about why I was clearly insane only to forget the conversation the day after.

I am taking a train and have just had my ticket checked by a ticket inspector. The inspector then asks the next passenger for his ticket. The passenger starts speaking in a foreign language.

Inspector: *Showing a ticket* “I… need to see… this!”

Passenger: *Speaks some foreign words*

The ticket inspector gets out his phone.

Inspector: “Where are you from?”

I see him loading up a translation app.

Passenger: *Speaks some more foreign words*

Me: “Excuse me, sir, I believe I know what language he’s speaking.”

The passenger looks at me wide-eyed while the inspector breathes a sigh of relief.

Inspector: “Thanks, mate. What language is it?”

Me: “It’s the Black Speech of Mordor.”

The passenger is looking really miffed, while the inspector just looks confused.

Inspector: “Eh? Is that like… an Eastern European thing?”

Me: *Now looking at the passenger directly* “You were saying, ‘Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul,’ weren’t you?”

I look back to the inspector.

Me: “It’s a language from The Lord Of The Rings. It’s the ‘One ring to rule them all’ line. He’s having you on, mate.”

We both now stare pointedly at this fare-dodging passenger.

Passenger: “F*** you.”

The passenger got fined, and I spent the rest of the trip laughing at the audacity.

This story is part of the Editors’-Favorite-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

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CONTENT WARNING: Anti-Trans Parent, Harassment, Threats

At the time of this story, I was in the process of transitioning from female to male. It was a decision I had struggled with for years, but once I started, I finally began to feel like I was myself. However, it created a rift in my family, which in turn caused me a great deal of stress and anxiety.

The hardest part, for me, was my mum turning against me. When I was growing up, she was always supportive and encouraging in everything I wanted or needed. But apparently, she drew the line at me being trans.

“You’re my little girl, not my little boy!” she’d say.

She would aggressively deadname me and share anti-trans posts any chance she got, to the point where I had to block her on social media. At that point, she became downright toxic — even going as far as to tell people that I had DIED rather than acknowledging my transition, which, as you can imagine, was deeply upsetting.

One day, I came into work after having had a particularly nasty interaction with my mum the night before. Despite us being no-contact, she had somehow found out where I lived and turned up at my house to hurl abuse and threats at me. Police had to be called. I was drained and heartbroken. I wanted nothing more than to hide under a blanket and cry.

But we had a big project due, and I couldn’t leave my colleagues in the lurch. Plus, I figured that sitting around at home would only make me feel worse. I needed a distraction. And quite honestly, I was terrified of my mum coming back and having another altercation with me.

So, I gritted my teeth and headed to work. At least it was a secure building. Even if she found out where I worked, she wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near me.

Being around my more accepting colleagues did settle my nerves somewhat, but then I ran into [Colleague]. I’ve never had any issues with [Colleague]. He’s a friendly guy with a great work ethic, but he has always been terrible with names. He’ll recognise your face and know your role or department and things you’ve told him, but he is just hopeless with names.

He has tried things like brain training and memory tricks, but despite his best efforts, he still mixes up names most of the time.

Normally, this isn’t an issue; it is just something you laugh off and move on from. It’s just that on that day, after the nightmare of an encounter I’d had with my mum, I was feeling fragile and I didn’t know if I could handle him mixing up my name, even though I knew he wouldn’t mean anything by it. I tried to avoid him all day, but he eventually caught up to me.

Colleague: “Oh, [My Name]! I’m going to get some coffee for the team. Do you want anything?”

I started to answer and then realised that, for the first time, he had gotten my name right.

Me: “Oh… I… uh…”

[Colleague] suddenly looked panicked.

Colleague: “I’m so sorry. Did I get your name wrong?”

Me: “No. You… you got it right. Sorry, it just really surprised me. You usually get it wrong.”

Colleague: *Looking relieved* “Oh. Good. I practiced all weekend.”

Me: “You… you practiced my name all weekend?”

Colleague: “Yeah, well… I overheard you talking to [Colleague #2] in the breakout room about what a hard time you’ve been having lately, so I wanted to make a special effort to get your name right. I even bought an app to help me memorise your name.”

I was so touched that [Colleague] had gone to the trouble of spending his weekend making sure he got my name right that I started crying. I know getting a name right is a small thing, but to me, in that moment, it felt huge.

[Colleague] quickly whisked me away to one of the empty meeting rooms, checked that I was okay, and then ran to get my manager. My manager, who had also been really supportive throughout the whole ordeal, offered to let me go home for the day, paid. As grateful as I was for her offer, I declined. [Colleague] had given me the positivity I needed to make it through the day.

I will always be grateful to [Colleague] for his incredible show of support and understanding. It really helped get me through a tough time.

I have since fully transitioned and am doing much better. Even though I had to completely cut my family out of my life (including getting restraining orders for both of my parents), I have been lucky enough to build a great support network — which, of course, includes [Colleague].

This story is part of the Best-Feel-Good-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

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