I work in a hotel. I had a guy check in yesterday afternoon — a very normal, uneventful check-in. This morning, he comes down to the desk in a tizzy about the deposit. He’d tried to check out with the night auditor this morning and was very unhappy to learn that the deposit on his card wouldn’t be refunded instantaneously. What’s more, he insisted I’d told him it would.

Guest: “You stood there and you told me that the deposit would be refunded immediately. So when I check out, you’re going to go up and check my room and give me my money back.”

Me: “That’s not accurate, sir, so I can’t imagine I would have said that. After you check out, housekeeping will check the room. Then, on our end, we will refund the deposit, and then your bank processes the refund.”

For whatever reason, our deposit acts like a charge instead of an authorization.

Guest: “And that happens immediately?”

Me: “I’m not sure how long it will take your bank to process it, sir.”

Guest: “That was my last $50 to live on, so you’re going to give me my money back when I leave.”

Me: “There’s no way for me to do that, sir. I have no control over how long it takes your bank to process refunds.”

Guest: “You told me it would be immediate.”

Me: “I do not recall that, sir, and considering that’s not how refunds work, I can’t imagine I would have said that. But I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Guest: “It’s not a misunderstanding! You told me that! That’s my last $50! And you’re going to give it back to me!”

Me: “Yes, sir, assuming everything is good after checkout on our end, we will process the refund. Then, it’s on your bank.”

Guest: “I want it back today.”

Me: “I have no control over that, sir.”

Guest: “This is bulls***. I want to speak to your manager.”

Me: “I’m the manager on duty.”

Guest: “Then I want to talk to the owner.”

Me: “He is on vacation.”

Guest: “How am I getting my money back?”

Me: “After you check out and housekeeping checks the room, we process the refund on our end. Then, it’s up to your bank.”

Guest: “You should have told me that at check-in.”

Me: “I don’t recall our conversation at check-in, sir, so I do apologize for the misunderstanding.”

Guest: “I wouldn’t have stayed here if I’d known the money wouldn’t come right back.”

Me: “Okay.”

Guest: “You misled me.”

Me: “I don’t believe I did.”

He whines some more and demands the deposit back some more, and I repeat myself some more because at this point there is really nothing else to say. After he finally leaves, I turn to my trusty sidekick, Security Camera. I pull up the video from when he checked in to figure out what I might have said that he is trying to twist on me.

Lo and behold, the dude never once asked about when the deposit would be refunded. He asked if the deposit had to be on his card, and I said yes. That was the entirety of our conversation about it. The deposit being back on his card was apparently such a big deal to him, but he made no mention of it to me. And now he’s lying about it.

He is back at the desk an hour later.

Guest: “So, the deposit will be back on my card today?”

Me: “I’m not sure how long it will take your bank to process it, sir.”

Guest: “You told me—”

Me: “No, I didn’t. You see that camera? It records everything I say and do. I told you there’s a $50 deposit on your card, you asked if it has to be on the card, and I said yes. That was the extent of the conversation about the deposit. You didn’t ask about how long it would take to get the deposit back on your card, so I didn’t say anything about it because I didn’t know that it was important to you. Usually, people ask when that’s the case.”

He grumbled and then stomped off, defeated.

One day, while at work, I received a call from a telemarketer trying to sell me life insurance. I was on my break, so I decided to have some fun with the caller. I gave her very vague and comical answers to all her questions. She then proceeded to transfer me to a licensed sales agent, which I ignored so he just hung up.

I thought they would just remove me from their call list, but a few months later, the same lady called me again! So we did the same routine. The answers I gave were the same ones I gave the first time. It went something like this.

After establishing my name and that I lived in Michigan, she started her questions:

Caller: “How old are you?”

Me: “Older than the womb but younger than the tomb.”

Caller: “That is funny, sir, but seriously, how old are you?”

Me: “Older than the womb but younger than the tomb.”

This repeated four more times before she went on to the next question.

Caller: “How tall are you, sir?”

Me: “Twelve inches to the foot.”

Caller: “Can you be more precise?”

Me: “I can stand on the floor but I cannot reach the ceiling.”

Caller: “Well, okay. Can you tell me how much you weigh?”

Me: “Sixteen ounces to the pound.”

I hear a little frustration in her tone as she goes to the next question.

Caller: “Can you tell me if you use any breathing apparatus?”

Me: “I have a nose, diaphragm, and lungs.”

Caller: “Does any of that plug into an outlet?”

Me: “There are no plugs in me.”

Caller: “Do you live in a nursing home or in a hospital?”

Me: “No.”

Caller: “Okay, I have enough information about you. I am now going to transfer you to a licensed agent to talk to you about life insurance.”

Me: “No, you are not! You do not know one thing about me except my name and I live in Michigan!”

Caller: “You gave me all your information, sir.”

Me: “Really?! This is what I told you!”

I then went back through the questions and the answers I had given. Then, I asked her what specific information I gave her. She was silenced for a few seconds and then asked if I was interested in insurance.

Me: “With those vague answers I gave you, what do you think?”

Caller: “So, would you like me to remove your name from our call list?”

Me: *In a very sarcastic tone* “Yes!”

Caller: “Okay, sir, I removed your name and number from our list. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Me: “Do you have another game we can play? I love playing games!”

She finally hung up. 

I don’t understand why she didn’t pick up on the fact I was just toying with her from the beginning.

I receive a text to inform me I’ve got an updated debit card on the way. I had thought all my cards were up to date, so I call the bank to make sure everything is okay.

I’ve got a two-word surname; imagine my name is Claire Jones Smith, where “Jones Smith” is my surname — two words, not hyphenated.

This is slightly annoying, as some computer systems shove the “Jones” to the middle name field, leaving my surname, according to some companies, as just “Smith”.

I’m used to this, and I understand it’s not the fault of the representative if they can’t find me on the first try. This lady, on the other hand…

Me: “Hi. I got a text about a replacement debit card. I wanted to know what account it was for.”

Representative: “Okay, no problem. What’s your name?”

Me: “Claire Jones Smith.”

Representative: “Date of birth?”

Me: “[Birthdate].”

Representative: “Huh, not finding anything. So, that’s—”

She spells out my name phonetically.

Me: “Yes, but if you can’t find it under Jones Smith, try just Smith as sometimes Jones is pushed to the middle name field.”

Representative: “I’m not finding it under Jones Smith. I won’t be able to continue this call.”

Me: “Again, try just Smith, and—”

Representative: “You’re going to have to go to the branch and fix it.”

Me: “I already have. I’ve verified my ID with them. Now, if you just search Smith—”

Representative: “You’re going to have to go to the branch. I can’t fix it from here.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s okay, I just wanted to know about this text—”

Representative: “You’re going to have to go to the branch.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m not worried about the name. I just want to find out—”

Representative: “I can’t continue this call.”

Me: “Okay, yeah. Can I have a manager?”

Representative: “I can’t continue this call.”

Me: “Manager.”

Representative: “You’re going to have to go to the branch.”

Me: “Manager!”

And then she hung up on me.

I called in again, talked to a manager, and explained the situation. He went off, listened to the call, and very, very apologetically said something like, “I don’t know what her problem was. I found you in the system right away.”

I was working in a popular amusement park in Florida and was standing out front of the building with all the robot presidents. 

Guest: “Excuse me, do you know where the Hallway of Politicians is?”

Me: “Certainly! It’s right behind me.”

Guest: “No, that’s not it.”

I stood there, blinking, and then turned to look to make sure someone hadn’t stolen the building while I wasn’t looking. 

Nope, it was still there, the “Hallway of Politicians” sign right there in big letters attached to the front of the building.

Me: “Well, if you figure out where it is, could you let me know? I’m supposed to be standing in front of it.”

The guest wandered off, and I didn’t see them again.

Like some women, I have issues with pelvic exams and require the smallest speculum available. My previous OBGYN was sympathetic to the issue and had noted this on my chart. Unfortunately, she left the practice and I’m randomly assigned a new doctor. She’s started the exam.

Doctor: “All right, speculum’s going in.”

I can immediately tell that it’s not the small one. I scoot back up the table.

Me: “That’s not the small speculum.”

Doctor: “It’s the smallest one I have.”

Me: “Please go get the smallest one in the office.”

Doctor: “This is what I have, and this is what you’re getting. Come back down here. I’m putting it back in and I’m going to open it. I’ll be fast.”

I scoot back down. She resumes the exam and quickly opens the speculum all the way, causing a VERY sharp pain in a sensitive area. I scream and get off the table.

Doctor: “Get back on the table!”

Me: “Not a chance!”

Doctor: “You’re a grown woman!”

Me: “Get the smallest speculum now!”

We stare at each other for a couple of minutes. Finally, she huffs and pulls something out of a drawer.

Doctor: *In a snotty tone* “This is a pediatric speculum, dear. Smallest one in the office.”

Me: “You did have it! Why the h*** didn’t you use it when I asked?!”

Doctor: “It takes longer.”

Me: “I’m not getting back on that table unless you use it.”

Doctor: “Fine.”

I get back on the exam table and she finishes with no other issues. After she’s done…

Me: “[Previous Doctor] said she put a note on my chart regarding speculum size. Is it not there anymore?”

Doctor: “No, it’s still there.”

Me: “Did you not see it?”

Doctor: “I thought a grown woman could handle a normal exam and speculum like everyone else.”

Me: “So, you disregarded a legit medical note due to your own opinion?”

She has the sense to look ashamed.

Doctor: “Uh… Well, now I know. See you next year!”

Me: “No, you won’t!”

I switched offices the next year. I told my new OBGYN the story, and she was absolutely horrified. She promised me that would not happen at her office, and so far, it hasn’t.