(I’m in a store I don’t technically work for, but I am counting their inventory. I’m near the candy aisle. Customers love to think that I actually work for the store, and since I know certain aspects well, I will generally help them out.)

Customer: “You guys don’t have malted milk balls here?”

Me: “If you look, there’s either Maltesers or Whoppers in this aisle.” *thinking: they are essentially malted milk balls, just with brand names*

Customer: *is not having what I just suggested* “Nope, nope. You guys don’t have malted milk balls, and they are so good.”

(Well, you can’t help everyone.)

(I work at a restaurant where we have three margarita machines. We have thirteen-ounce glasses as well as three-ounce sample cups that we sometimes fill with an ounce or so to let people try the margaritas. This customer comes up and asks for a sample of both the regular and the strawberry. A month or more before this, she asked for the same thing and asked me to fill the sample cups all the way to the top for each one. I have forgotten about this customer since then, so this day, I do the same thing I always do — and to every single other customer ever — and I give her a standard one- to one-and-a-half-ounce sample of each one. What does she do? As I place them down in front of her, she brushes them off to the side of the counter with a sweep of her arm and walks off. Ten minutes later, I get in trouble with my manager for being “rude” to this customer. Cut to a year later, and even though the manager who talked to her — and apparently was friends with her — works at another restaurant, I still have to give this lady three-ounce samples when she comes in. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, but it does irk me that she not only gets these two samples, but she asks her server for two more samples after that, sometimes more! Doing the math, that is four samples consisting of three ounces each, making it twelve ounces, which is basically a free margarita. The purpose of the samples is so you can decide if you want to BUY one, yet she buys maybe ONE a month, and this woman comes in three times a week or more! She is also, reportedly, a horrible tipper. On top of that, she gets people in trouble and makes racist comments.)

Customer: “Are you going to give me my samples today?”

Me: “Yes, no problem.” *makes them* “Here you go.”

Customer: “Are you going to be nice to me today?”

(I can’t think of anything nice to say, so I just smile at the woman.)

Customer: *huffs* “That’s what I thought.”

(She walks away and I then rip her head off in my mind.)

(A customer is making an order at our restaurant. At the end, he says:)

Customer: “Can I get a regular and a strawberry margarita?”

Me: “Sure.” *writes it down on his ticket* “Is there anything else I can get for you today?”

Customer: “No, and I want it to go.”

Me: “All right, and your name?”

(He gives his name.)

Me: “Okay, I’ll make your margaritas, and then you can have a seat while they start on your order. Can I see your ID?”

(He shows it.)

Me: “And who’s the other margarita for?”

Customer: “My wife.”

Me: “All right, I might need to see her ID, as well.”

Customer: “She’s at the house.”

Me: “Oh. Is she on her way?”

Customer: “No, I’m bringing the margaritas to go.”

(I’ve had a lot of people get drinks while they wait for a to-go order, but usually they don’t order one for someone who isn’t there, you see. They’re smarter than that.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t make margaritas to go.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “I can’t make alcoholic drinks to go.”

Customer: “Oh… Why not?”

Me: “Because you can’t drink and drive? And then we could be held liable.”

Customer: “Oh. Never mind, then.” *leaves the store*

(I work at the customer service booth for a very large mall. The phone rings and I pick it up.)

Me: “Hi. Thank you for calling [Mall]. You’ve reached customer service; how can I help you?”

Caller: “Hello. Where are you located?”

Me: “Me, personally, as in the customer service booth?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “On the first floor of the mall, between [Store #1] and [Store #2].”

Caller: “No, I mean where is [Hotel #1]?”

Me: “Well, we have two hotels connected to our mall — [Hotel #2] and [Hotel #3] — but we don’t have a [Hotel #1].”

Caller: “Oh, you mean this isn’t the number for [Hotel #1]?”

Me: “No, this is [Mall] customer service.”

Caller: “Oh, well, why didn’t you say something earlier? Thanks for wasting my time!” *hangs up*

(It’s like some people just don’t have ears!)

(I work for a company that manages gated townhome communities. Following is a telephone conversation between myself and a homeowner.)

Homeowner: “I want to paint my house a different color. What do I need to do?”

Me: “All you need to do is fill out and submit a Home Improvement Request form, which can be downloaded from our website, or…”

Homeowner: “I NEVER HEAR FROM YOU PEOPLE.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Homeowner: “I PAY YOU A LOT OF MONEY, AND YOU NEVER EMAIL ME ANYTHING.”

(The maintenance fees paid by homeowners go directly into the HOAs’ accounts, not to the management company. People don’t realize this, though, so when calling to complain, the first thing they do is remind us that they PAY A LOT OF MONEY.)

Me: “Actually, I send out monthly email updates to your entire community. Perhaps my emails have been getting caught in your spam filters?”

Homeowner: “NO. YOU NEVER EMAIL ME.”

Me: “Okay. Then let me look in my records to make sure we have the correct address for you.”

Homeowner: “YOU NEVER EMAIL ME.”

Me: “Is your email address—“ *reads off the address we have on file*

Homeowner: “No. That’s an old address.”

Me: “What’s your current email address?”

(She gives me her new address, and I update our records.)

Me: “Great. Now that I have your email, I will send you the Home Improvement Request form, and you can just fill it out and send it back to me.”

Homeowner: “I CALLED THIS MORNING, AND YOU NEVER CALLED ME BACK.”

Me: “Ma’am, I was out of the office this morning on property visits, but I am in the process of getting caught up on messages… which is why we’re talking now.”

Homeowner: “Oh.” *beat* “Thanks.” *click*

(But hey, at least she said thanks. That’s a first right there.)