Our call center allows us to work from home due to health reasons as long as we have a stable Internet connection, which, thankfully, I do.

Caller: “Where am I calling? This had better be an American!”

Me: “You’re calling Cebu in the Philippines, sir.”

Caller: “I want to speak to an American, d*** it!”

I try to explain more but this caller just isn’t having it. Thankfully, due to watching too many shows and YouTube, I can do a pretty good accent from someone in the US. I put them on hold, switch accents, and come back to them.

Me: “Hello, sir, you’re speaking to [My Nickname]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Thank God, you’re an American. Where are you?”

Drawing a blank, I just think about a line from a “Star Trek” movie I have seen recently where Captain Kirk says, “I’m from Iowa; I only work in outer space.”

Me: “Iowa, sir.”

Just then, a rooster cries the typical “cock-a-doodle-do!” in the backyard of my very rural, very Filipino home that is certainly not in Iowa.

Caller: “Good! Sounds like Iowa, too! Now, my problem is—”

My (large, multi-national) company uses a standard email format, as most do, so if you know the format, you can usually guess someone’s email address. I have a very common last name but was the first person with that last name and my first initial, so I got the standard setup. If my name is Jennifer Smith, I got smithj@[address].

A couple of years after I started, Jane Smith started. They set up her email as smith.jane@[address]. She’s in a different country and has a completely different role from me. I get a lot of emails addressed to her from people who are just guessing at her email address. Sometimes it’s stuff really for Jane, which I forward. Other times, it’s generic spam. This morning I found this in my inbox:

Emailer: “Good morning, Jane Smith! Are we reaching the right person in a company to market/sell your products or services?”

One time, I was being interviewed by a young woman about a job.

Young Woman: “Where were you born?”

Me: “Tucumcari, New Mexico.”

Young Woman: “You’ll have to show your naturalization papers before you can apply for the job.”

Her supervisor and I had a good laugh after he made her look up New Mexico in the US atlas. I did not take the job because I had a very low tolerance for working with stupid people.

Another time, I had been working at a company for nine years. They had a policy of doing routine checkups of dependents to see if the lists needed to be changed. I submitted my list, which had not changed in five years. I got a call from the department saying that I had given the wrong first name for my wife.

Worker: “You gave the abbreviation of your first name, Charles, for your wife’s first name.”

Her name was translated from her native Korean to “Chae” in English. The name is listed that way on her citizenship papers. I finally had to talk to a supervisor to get her to accept my paperwork. By the way, Charles is abbreviated “Chas”.

I work in a hotel. I get a guest checking in, and I go through the entire spiel and give him a room. His room is on the eighth floor, and I send him on his way. Twenty minutes later, he returns.

Guest: “The elevator will only go to the seventh floor! I’m very unhappy!”

Me: “I can make new keys for you, but I need your name.”

Guest: “[Last Name].”

Me: “Can I have your first name, please?”

Guest: “Unhappy.”

Me: “I don’t have any guest registered by the name Unhappy.”

He then relented and gave his full name, I remade the keys, and then I escorted him to the elevator. He never pushed the button for the eighth floor. The reason the elevator went to the seventh floor was that somebody on the seventh floor called for the elevator.

I understand that elderly people can have some issues with technology, but elevators have been around since before they were born.

I have a very Irish name that’s tough to spell, so I normally accept that “Mave” or “Maeve” will be written on my coffee orders, and honestly, that’s fine.

I order a coffee in the UK using my thick Irish accent.

Barista: “And the name?”

Me: “M is fine.”

Another customer behind me speaks up, definitely not Irish.

Customer: “You shouldn’t do that! It’s their job to get your name right; it’s not your job to make it easier for them.”

Me: “First of all… wow. Second, if you can spell my name right the first time, I’ll buy you your coffee.”

Customer: *All smiles* “Easy! What’s your name?”

I say the proper pronunciation of my name, and the customer looks all smug.

Customer: “M-A-E-V-E.”

Me: *Producing a student ID card* “Wrong. It’s M-E-A-D-H-B-H.”

The customer is staring at “Meadhbh” in disbelief. He then looks up at me and then at the barista smiling, and then he just slowly saunters out of the coffee shop.

Barista: “Wow.”

Me: “It’s okay. All those consonants. He didn’t have a chance!”