(I don’t get a lot of calls or messages during the nine-to-five day, so I frequently forget to switch my cell phone to silent. When this happens, I am attending a lesson in school. Suddenly, my phone begins ringing in my backpack. The teacher looks at me, annoyed, so I quickly apologize and reject the call with the phone still in my backpack. While I’m getting it out to switch it to silent, it starts ringing again.)

Teacher: “Go on. Answer it and tell them you’re in class, so I can continue.”

Me: “Okay” *answering the phone* “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk right now. Can I call you ba—”

Caller: *interrupting me* “—am I talking to [My Name]? It’s rather urgent.”

Me: “Okay, wait, please hold a second.”

(My granddad is in the hospital at this time, so I immediately assume the worst. I quickly gather my things and leave the room, with the caller still on line, while repeatedly apologizing to the teacher who looks at me with even more anger.)

Me: *on the phone* “I’m very sorry. Now I can talk. What is it?”

Caller: “Good. I’m calling on behalf of [Cell Phone Provider]. We’re doing a survey about whether or not you’re satisfied with our service.”

Me: “Are you kidding me?! I was, until now, but now I’d very much like to cancel my contract with you. Oh, and please escalate me to your manager!”

Caller: “But… Why?”

(My mother is at the bus stop and sees a guy stumbling around, from the sidewalk to the bike path, and close to the curb. She calls the police so they can take care of him, as he is clearly too out of it to be safe on his own in public. They arrive and talk to him, asking about alcohol and drugs. He admits to taking some drugs, then suddenly turns on my mother.)

Druggie: *yelling* “Look at all the trouble you got me in!”

Mother: *yelling back* “I saved your life! You were almost running into the street!”

(So much for helping people.)

(I work in a fairly large, upscale supermarket and am currently stocking potato chips at the far end of the store, where they’re located right next to the (refrigerated) dairy section. Anything related to homogenised milk, however, is relatively close to the entrance at the opposite side. Note that a. the store is located in a small and rather posh, southwest German city, infamous for being a bit full of itself, and b. the obviously well-off customer is fitting the stereotype of a 60-something 1%er, fur coat and all. She’s not getting abusive, but increasingly snotty and impolite.)

Customer: *from behind me, without saying “excuse me” or anything* “I’m looking for ‘coffee milk.’ Where can I find it?”

Me: “Do you perchance mean condensed milk or coffee cream?”

Customer: “No! I said ‘coffee milk.’ Didn’t you listen?”

Me: “Well, however you wanna call it, the condensed milk and coffee cream is located at the front together with the homogenised milk. None of them are called ‘coffee milk,’ though, since…”

Customer: *interrupts* “I asked for ‘coffee milk,’ not coffee cream! And why is it up front? A colleague of yours just send me here! Are you saying I have to walk back to the front?!”

Me: “I’m sorry for my colleague’s misunderstanding. I can come with you and personally show you where it is. But as I was trying to say, depending on fat content, it’s either called condensed milk or coffee cream, just so you know. I’m pretty sure those terms are even regulated by the EU.”

(I don’t suffer fools lightly. They go ignorant, I go stubborn.)

Customer: *getting irate* “I don’t care what those lazy bureaucrats call it. I’ve always called it coffee milk and never had a ‘misunderstanding’ because of it. You know what, forget it. I’m sick of this incompetence! This place is going to the dogs! I’ll never shop here again and I will tell all my friends to do the same. Do you have any idea how many customers you are going to lose, young man?!”

(I hate it when someone calls me that. She hands me her shopping basket, containing veggies and deli meat, meaning she must’ve passed the milk aisle, and turns to leave.)

Me: “Going by your lack of common decency, won’t be that many.”

Customer: *gasps, huffs, and f***s off*

(I never got written up. The customer made good on her “promise” and never came back, but our numbers are still good.)

(I’m at a contact fair organized by a group at my university. My friend and I pass the booth run by the organizers, and decide to fill out their quick survey about how we found out about the event, if we liked it, etc. The second question already has me dumbfounded.)

Me: “Age… age… How old am I?

Booth Attendant: *laughing* “It’s weird how that’s a question so many students stumble over; you’d think that people in their twenties would know how old they are. What year were you born?”

Me: “To be fair, I don’t think I’ve been asked how old I am all year, only ever for my birth date or birth year. Hold on…” *musing out loud* “I was born in 1995, so in 2015, I was 20, and I already had a birthday this year, so that makes me 22 now.”

(I put my age into the field and complete the survey, the booth attendant chatting with me and my friend the whole time, laughing when we stumble over equally basic questions. Finally, we both hand her our surveys and she pulls out the bowl with rewards: various sweets.)

Booth Attendant: “You know what? This seemed really hard for two civil engineering students like you two, and I don’t think we’re getting that many others, so dig in!”

(We did so and said goodbye, hoping that at least we made the work in the stuffy tent a little bit more fun for her!)

(It’s between Christmas and New Year’s Eve and, as this restaurant is near/on-campus, it’s almost empty. I receive my food and head to a small, secluded area around a corner when I see a employee with cleaning supplies sitting there playing with her phone.)

Me: “Did you already clean here? I could go sit somewhere else.”

(Rather than answering, the employee just gives me a dirty look. I like that spot and it doesn’t appear recently cleaned. So, I sit down nevertheless, take off my winter clothes and start eating when I notice her clearing her throat.)

Employee: “You need to eat somewhere else. I’m cleaning here right now.”

Me: “I’m sorry? I’m certainly not going to stack my food back on the tray and balance it to another table with my winter clothes in my arms while my burger falls apart. That’s why I asked you before sitting down.”

Employee: *calling around the corner* “[Manager]?”

Manager: *comes around the corner shortly afterwards* “Yes?”

Employee: “This customer ignored me when I told him that I’m currently cleaning here! Can you throw him out?”

(I’m just about to respond when the manager interrupts me.)

Manager: *to employee* “Firstly, we don’t throw customers out just because they are sitting somewhere we want to clean and we most certainly don’t call a manager to discuss such an option in front of the customer. But as we’re already here: Cut the crap. Everyone here knows you’re sitting around the corner your whole shift, playing with your phone and pretending you’re cleaning. Honestly, we only let you get away with it because the only thing worse for business than you doing nothing all day is — evidently — you dealing with customers. We were just waiting for you to do something stupid which, I’m happy to say, you just did. You can go home now. We’ll call you tomorrow about your termination.”