(I drive my partner to and from work so I can have the car all day. Our car doesn’t have a roof, so it can get pretty cold when it’s windy. This is fine in the summer. When autumn rolls around, however…)

Me: “Do you want to take a jacket?”

Partner: “Nah. It’s only a 15-minute ride. I’ll be fine.”

(My partner is shivering by the time we get there. Nine hours later…)

Me: *on the phone* “I can bring you a jacket.”

Partner: “Nope!”

Me: “It’s evening. It’s going to be much colder.”

Partner: “I’m fine!”

(My partner shivers the whole way and wraps up in a blanket when we get home. I eventually stop asking; I figured my partner will break faster if it isn’t “my” idea to bring a jacket. Two weeks later…)

Partner: “Oh, and don’t let me forget to grab a jacket!”

Me: “I thought you said it wasn’t needed for a 15-minute ride?”

Partner: *sheepish* “I… may have been a bit stubborn…”

Me: *hugs* “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself now. I don’t nag because I hate you, you know. It’s not a contest.”

Partner: “I know…”

Customer: “Do you have any mayonnaise packets?”

Me: “Sorry, we’re out right now.”

Customer: “YOU’RE OUT?! HOW CAN YOU BE OUT OF MAYONNAISE?! WHAT KIND OF DELI IS THIS?!”

(She throws the food she was holding at me and stomps away.)

Me: “Well, that was a bit of an overreaction.”

Coworker: “Dude. Old, white people have nothing in their lives but church, mayonnaise, and Trump. You literally just took away a third of her entire existence.”

(My wife works in a bank as a teller. They are required to always be smiling and helpful to their members. My wife relayed this little gem to me today after she got home from work. The customer in question is in his mid-twenties.)

Customer: “I’d like to deposit this in my account.” *shoves a wad of crumpled up bills under the window*

Teller: “Of course, sir… May I have your account number, please?”

Customer: “Uh… I don’t know my account number.”

Teller: “Not a problem, sir; I can look it up for you. May I have your social security number?”

Customer: “I… um… I don’t know it.”

Teller: “That’s all right; I can find it by your name.”

Customer: “Okay.”

Teller: “…”

Customer: *silent*

Teller: “Sir… may I have your name, please?”

Customer: “Oh… yeah… okay… It’s Bob.”

Teller: “Bob?”

Customer: “Yeah, Bob.”

Teller: “May I please have your last name, Bob?”

Customer: “Huh?”

(At this point, I cut her off. This is why I wouldn’t be able to work a job like that anymore. I would NOT be able to sit there quietly, smiling, and continue to help this man. I’d be fired.)

(When I first start working at a call center taking incoming client calls, I have a pretty typical “script” of how I answer the phone. We have to thank the client for calling and give our name and some sort of pleasantry while also obtaining their name. I always opt for, “Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” One day during my shift I start getting tired and doodling on my paper, writing the words, “I’m sleepy.” As I’m doing this, a call comes through.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. This is [My Name] speaking. Whom do I have the pleasure of sleeping… speaking with?”

(Luckily for me, I don’t think the client heard, and the rest of the conversation continued as normal. My coworkers wouldn’t let me live that one down for weeks!)

(I help my parents put on a yard sale. Most of the morning goes without problem and we are pretty busy. Around noon, a dumpy old car pulls up. The lady that steps out is one of those “the world revolves around me” types — very fake tan, way too much makeup, latte in hand, and very over-the-top, loud clothes. I’m sitting in front of my house in the shade and she stomps right up to me, shoving other shoppers out of the way. She grabs a box near me, dumps out its contents, and shoves it into my arms.)

Customer: “Follow me around and keep track of what I take.”

(I’m a really quiet person, so I just stand and start following her. The box is very large, maybe two feet long, wide, and tall. She starts tossing junk into the box and I’m frantically trying to keep track of what she’s getting. This goes on for ten minutes. After she fills two large boxes, she whirls around to me.)

Customer: “I’ll give you $5 for all this junk.”

Me: *surprised* “Ma’am, I kept track as you asked me to, and the total is closer to $30. And I’m rounding down.”

(She tries to haggle with me for a while, but eventually, she stomps off to her car to loudly demand money from her driver. She stomps back to me and shoves the money in my face. As she’s doing so, she looks at my necklace.)

Customer: “Darling, I love your necklace.”

(She then reaches for it and tries to take it off my neck. Naturally, I back away, confused.)

Customer: “Darling, I said I love your necklace. That means I want it.”

(She tried again to snatch it. When I backed away again, she started trying to bribe me, but it was my favorite necklace so that wasn’t going to happen. After a while, she gave up and I helped her put her boxes in her car. As soon as she got in and the car started to drive away, she rolled down her window and made eye contact with me. I thought she was going to say thank you or goodbye, but no. She tossed her half-full latte out the window into my driveway. It splattered everywhere and they drove away. As if that wasn’t bad enough, when I went to count the money she had shoved at me, it was only $20 and not the $30 I had asked for.)

This story is part of our Garage Sale roundup!

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This story is part of our Hagglers roundup.

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