I work for an online store where we mostly sell clothes and shoes. Since it’s only online, and humans, not robots, are working in the warehouses, there are mistakes from time to time — wrong size, colour, or article. Human mistakes. Most take it fine, while others get a bit annoyed.

Customer: “You sent me the wrong item and now you tell me I have to return it?! Now I have nothing to wear!”

Yes, he kept on insisting that the wrongly-delivered sweatpants were his only clothes to wear and that he had to wait for the refund to buy more clothes. That was a little bit more info than I needed to know.

I work for an international online store, where customers will call or contact us if there are any issues or questions.

Me: “Welcome to [Store]; this is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I only speak Danish.”

Me: “Okay…? So… You want to continue… or in English…?”

Customer: “My daughter speaks English. I only speak Danish.”

For the record, the whole conversation was in Danish. At no point did I or the customer say anything in any other language. The rest of the conversation went smoothly without any problems.

When I moved to my current apartment, I moved from an apartment with electrical heating to one with central heating — water radiators — which need to be “aired,” meaning a screw needs to be loosened to let air out so the radiator heats properly. After noticing the radiators haven’t been aired in a while, and lacking the proper key for the screws, I use pliers for the time being as I don’t want to bother the janitor immediately after moving in.

Once I realize the radiators need to be aired at least once a week, I decide that, while it isn’t explicitly stated in my lease, this is a job I am supposed to do myself or the janitors would never be able to get anything else done between airing tenants’ radiators. So, I start looking for the key in local stores, with no luck, as this is apparently one of those items only sold in specialized stores.

After some online searching, I find an online store selling them at €3.5 per key plus shipping — €7. It’s a bit steep, but I decide it can’t be helped and order one. A few days later, my “package” arrives. When I open it, I find a receipt inside. Apparently, the online store is only a middle man and the order was shipped by a brick-and-mortar store. Located in my town. Within biking distance and only a little bit outside of my daily commute by bike.

It would have been nice if there had been something on the website telling customers where they could go and pick up the items sold on the website.

Then again, if they did that, they’d lose the commissions from the sales. Oh, well.

I work for a software company in customer support. We’ve encountered a rare fault that customers are reporting and we already have a clue what might be the reason, but we haven’t yet quite cracked the problem. I’m chatting with a customer trying to get essential information from them.

Me: “Who’s your Internet provider?”

Customer: “Firefox.”

Me: “That’s good that you’re using Firefox; that’s our recommended browser. Can you tell me which company provides your Internet connection?”

Customer: “Mozilla.”

Me: “Okay, good. Do you have your Internet connection with [Company #1], [Company #2], [Company #3], or maybe with some other company?”

Customer: “I don’t know why you’re asking all these questions from me!”

Me: “I’m sorry if I’ve been unclear. The issue you’re experiencing seems to be related to certain Internet providers and we’re trying to gather information so we can pinpoint exactly where the problem is and fix it. In order to do that, it would be really helpful if you could let me know your Internet provider.”

Customer: “I’ve told you already, it’s Firefox! I don’t know why you’re making this so hard. I just want this thing to work! Make it work!”

Related:
Not Quite As Fast As A Fox In A Fire

I’m from a tiny country in the North Atlantic ocean but live in Finland. Before I got the hang of the language and got a job, I was a regular at a local club in the town I live in. Some there spoke fine English, while others… not so much. It’s a clubhouse for young adults and older — usually around middle age/retirement — and some of the older ones are a bit… special every now and then.

This middle-aged club member is interested in me and where I’m from, so they start a small conversation in English.

Club Member: “So, where are you from?”

Me: “I’m from [Country].”

Club Member: “Okay, and where is that?”

Me: “It’s a tiny country in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean.”

I explain in more detail.

Club Member: “Oh, okay.”

They walk away. A little while later, the same person comes back to me.

Club Member: “So… where are you from again?”

Me: “I’m from [Country].”

Club Member: “Oh, right.”

They walk away again. A little while later, the same person comes back. Again.

Club Member: “So, how is the weather in New Zealand?”