Customer Service Rep: “Can I have your last name, please?”

Me: “Gleason.”

Customer Service Rep: “Okay, Lisa! And can I have your last name?”

(My neighbor and I have a long-seeded history of hate for one another. It started with her giving me snarky remarks about weaning my son from his bottle at ten months old and escalated from there. I am sitting on my other neighbor’s deck, just talking to [Neighbor #1]. The neighbor I do not like, [Neighbor #2], walks up and just butts into the conversation. My husband starts bringing my son over so I call out:)

Me: “Yay, here comes [Son]!”

(His name happens to be the same name as the kid from “The Omen.”)

Neighbor #2: “Oh, lord! Please tell me that’s not your child’s name! Don’t take this the wrong way, but anyone with the name ‘[Son]’ belongs in Hell with all the demons and Satan himself! I knew a ‘[Son]’ once and he was the absolute worst person I have ever met in my life! You’ve condemned your child to a life of Hell! He will rot in Hell with the rest of his kind.”

(I was absolutely the maddest I have ever been, but I somehow worked up the strength to walk away. She told me my two-year-old son belonged in Hell with Satan just because of his name, and I wasn’t supposed to take that the wrong way?)

Student: “Miss!”

Teacher: “My name is Ms. [Teacher], not Miss. You may also call me Coach.”

Student: “You can’t expect me to remember your name! I have seven teachers!”

Teacher: “And I have eighty students, [Student].”

This story is part of the Teacher Appreciation 2023 roundup!

Read the next Teacher Appreciation 2023 roundup story!

Read the Teacher Appreciation 2023 roundup!

I’m working a normal day at the massage studio when something I’ve never experienced happens.

A client is booked for a session at a certain time with a therapist — let’s call the client Mary — and I greet and check them in, and they wait for their session. As they wait, we even buy a gift card for their friend with her card on file and make another appointment for her. Eventually the therapist comes to get her to take her into session, and everything seems fine.

A minute later, Mary comes in, apologizing for being late for her session. I stare at her with a face of a deer in headlights and ask her to repeat her name. Then, panic sets in. Who’s on the therapist’s table?

I run back to find the therapist before they go in, stating Mary is here for her session, and we now have no idea who is in his room. He has to end up going in there basically saying, “Who are you?” since we’ve greeted her under the assumption that her name is Mary [Last Name], for her session.

Turns out, her name is Kari. Very similar in names! Her session is for the same time, with the same therapist but for tomorrow. Scrambling still continues as I realize I bought a gift card for Kari with Mary’s money!

Thankfully, we are able to get the real Mary scheduled for a new session, her card refunded, and each party happy, but after working at this studio for almost two years, and the therapist for over five years, we’ve never had anything like this happen before!

(My parents are an interesting pair. My dad loves mythology and folklore, while my mom has a soft spot for anything that involves cars. My little sister and I are helping Dad with the shopping.)

Dad: “Let’s see… Eggs, milk, your grandmother’s favorite cookies… Did I forget anything, Calypso?”

Me: “No, I don’t think so. Everything on the list is crossed out.”

Customer: *behind us* “What kind of name is that? Are you some sort of f****** hippie? Couldn’t you give her a normal name?”

Dad: “With all due respect, please mind your own business. Mercedes, sweetheart, can you help me put our things on the belt?”

Sister: “Okay!”

Customer: “Are you one of those annoying posh types? Naming your kids after a car.”

Dad: “It was a name long before it was a car. My mother-in-law loves The Count Of Monte Cristo.”

(The customer kept going like that at the smallest of things. We see him sometimes when we go shopping, but he just gives us the evil eye and doesn’t say a word.)