I am selling something online. I provide my Whatsapp number for messaging but I am surprised when I get a call from an American number claiming interest in my item.

Caller: “I figured since I will be in San Francisco this weekend I could just swing by and pick it up?”

Me: “That’s great, except I’m in London. Nothing in my ad says I’m in San Francisco.”

Caller: “So that’s like… what, East Bay?”

Me: “What? No… London. London, England.”

Caller: “So down near Mountain View?”

Me: “No! London. With the bridge. The Queen lives there.”

I hear someone else on the caller’s side speak up.

Person With Caller: “What’s going on?”

Caller: *Replying* “I don’t know. They’re saying they’re a queen in San Francisco.”

Person With Caller: “Drag queens, honey. They’re called drag queens in San Francisco.”

I wonder if there is a confused-looking woman now wandering the streets of San Francisco looking for a drag queen with a used toaster oven.

I work from home answering emails for a variety of companies. I work for the parent company and we own forty-six other companies; all the emails go into one inbox. Half of our companies ship out our horticulture products (plants and plant goods) while the other half ship out our gift products (puzzles, household items, furniture, etc.).

Once the package leaves our facility, we cannot control what happens, regardless of the shipping company used.

On the 28th of the month:

Customer: “This is outrageous! You had to reship my order on the eighth because [Shipping Company] lost it and I still don’t have it!”

Me: “I apologize for the inconvenience, ma’am. After looking at your account, it appears the package was returned to us and marked undeliverable, and we have credited back the card on file.”

Customer: “Are you serious?! First, it took me three tries to type my credit card in on the website because I couldn’t figure out the expiration date! Then, [Shipping Company] lost my order! And now, when I’m waiting to get it again, it says the address is undeliverable! That has to be something in your system because the address was correct!”

Me: “I have looked at the ship-to address on the account. The address we have is [address], Jacksonville, Florida. Is this the correct address?”

Customer: “No! It should be shipping to Jackson, Mississippi, not Florida! Why can you people never do anything right?! I demand whoever put this order in be yelled at for not knowing!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry for the confusion, but it appears this order was placed on our website, not via one of our agents. I understand that our website can be confusing sometimes. I do apologize for the trouble you’ve had with this order. Would you like me to help you place a new order for the correct address?”

Customer: “Ha! As if I’m ever ordering from your company again! You mess up addresses and [Shipping Company] can’t do anything right! I think you should give me all of the products I was trying to order for free to make this right.”

Me: “Ma’am, unfortunately, we cannot ship out free items when the situation is not our fault. We have fully refunded your card and, unfortunately, the only thing lost in this order has been time. I can offer you a $25 gift certificate for a future order, but that is the best we can do.”

Customer: “I’m going to the BBB about this! I hope you enjoy your scathing review about not making things right!”

I really don’t know what she wanted from us. We already gave her back her money, she messed up on the address, and we can’t make [Shipping Company] deliver to somewhere we don’t even know. You just can’t please some people.

Related:
Addressing The Lack Of Addressing, Part 2
Addressing The Lack Of Addressing

Gibraltar is a British territory at the southern tip of Europe; the airport is literally a few yards from the border with Spain.

I’m waiting at Gibraltar Airport for a flight back to the UK, and we’re told that a storm has knocked the radar out and we need to cross into Spain where buses are waiting to take us to Malaga Airport.

We’re fast-tracked through the border post and board the buses. We’re ready to go when there’s an altercation at the front of our bus. An elderly English guy is getting irate with the Spanish driver about stowing his bag.

Passenger: “I don’t understand what you’re saying! Speak English!”

Driver: *In Spanish* “I don’t speak English. I only speak Spanish.”

Passenger: “Well, we’re not in Spain. You should be able to speak English.”

Rest Of The Bus As A Chorus: “YES, WE ARE!”

The passenger shuffled onto the bus. The last remaining seat was right at the back, so he had to run the gauntlet of all the other passengers glaring and muttering for holding the bus up.

Related:
Totally Estúpido! Part 17
Totally Estúpido! Part 16
Totally Estúpido! Part 15
Totally Estúpido! Part 14
Totally Estupido, Part 13

I work in a military-affiliated credit union call center as a level-two service rep. I have an accent, but I’m an American, born and raised, originally from the Midwest.

Me: “Thank you for calling credit union, my name is [My Name]. May I have your first and last name please?”

Caller: “Where are you?

I already know where this is going.

Me: “[Location], ma’am.”

Caller: “What’s the capital of Texas?”

Me: “Austin.”

Caller: “What are your [phone cuts out for a second] lobby hours?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. What location were you asking for the lobby hours of?”

I’m not a branch rep, so I want to clarify which branch she is asking for. Of course, she makes the assumption I don’t understand English well.

Caller: “What’s the capital of Virginia?”

Me: “…ma’am, I have no idea. I was born and raised in [Midwestern city]. Capital is St. Louis.”

I screwed up on the capital because 1. I was pissed, and 2. I forget Jeff City is even a thing most of the time.

Caller: “I don’t have much confidence in you, [My Name]. Can I speak to someone else?”

Me: Eye twitching. “…sure, ma’am. Hold on the line for a moment while I grab a coworker.”

She disconnected while on hold. I made sure to remark about her attitude and behavior in a professional manner, then take a few minutes of personal time.

That pissed me off. My accent is a result of legit brain damage. I have wonderful coworkers that are actually from foreign countries, all Americans, and somewhere in one of our US service centers. Even if we had outsourced service centers, who gives a d***?

There is a group of us older folks that have the old Toronto area code on our cell phones. This area code has not been available now for a considerable amount of time and having one almost immediately puts you into the “likely owns a home” demographic.

As a result, many aggressive sales companies autodial these numbers in attempts to sell services; they are handled by call centres with live people.

I get these calls about two to three times a week.

Me: “Hello?”

Employee #1: “Good morning, sir! I would like to offer you a great opportunity to have your whole house ducts cleaned, for an unbelievable price of only—”

Me: “That’s fantastic! But I need to know, what is your service area? Because I’m not downtown anymore.”

Employee #1: “We service all of Ontario, and will send one of our trucks out as soon as my manager gets all your details. You are in Ontario, correct?”

Me: “Yes, sir! Please put me through to your manager; I’d love to book a duct cleaning.”

I am put on hold and a new person starts asking me questions: how big is your home, how many bedrooms, how many square feet, how old is the furnace, etc. I exaggerate the size of my house because I know that they are drooling at the bit to upcharge me from their hook price that is unbelievably cheap.

Finally, they ask for my “neighborhood,” which is an odd question when they don’t know what city I am in. So, I reply:

Me: “[Neighborhood] by the hospital. “

Manager: “Excellent, sir… and street number and name?”

I give the street number and name, and I hear typing in the background.

Manager: “That isn’t coming up on my computer, sir. What is the postal code?”

I give him my postal code in Kapuskasing, Ontario, about a nine-hour drive from Toronto.

Manager: “Okay, that’s coming up… ah… That can’t be right.”

I am put on hold again, and a third person picks up the phone.

Employee #2: “Good morning! I’m here to book your duct cleaning time. We work between 8:00 am and 5:00 pm. I see that you have a 2,600-square-foot house and it will take us about an hour and a half to properly clean everything. We can have a truck at your house by… 5:00 pm… Wait… Something isn’t right. Let’s see if I make you the first stop of the day… If you’re the first stop, the earliest is 5:00 pm. What the… Sir, do you even live in Ontario?”

I give him my postal code again. Yes, I live in Ontario.

Employee #2: “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not sending two guys and a truck driving for nine hours one way to clean your ducts, let alone paying for their hotel and then losing another day for them to come back. Get someone else to do it.”

And he hung up. The next day, I got the same call centre and we did this all again.