I’m the office manager for a small service company. I field all the phone calls and emails. Over the years, I’ve learned not to take anything personally and just handle all problems as best I can. If I can’t handle the problem personally, I let the caller know who I will contact to get it handled.

Today, a lady tried my patience.

Caller: “Hello, I just got service and the bill left was for twice the amount it usually is. I need to find out why. It has always been one amount and today it is twice that. That doesn’t make any sense. I need to know why it is twice the amount. You need to explain this to me because it is usually one amount but now it is twice that. Why is it different?”

I finally just interrupt her, something I don’t generally do.

Me: “Can I have your address, please?”

Caller: “It is [address]. You all have been out here before and it was always one specific amount but this time it is…”

She goes on and on. I have pulled up the account and see that she has two invoices. Her current one would reflect the amount of both. I wait for her to take a breath and interrupt again.

Me: “It looks like there was a service in July that has not been paid for and—”

Caller: “NO! HE CALLED AND SAID HE WAS COMING AND I TOLD HIM NOT TO THAT DAY AND HE NEVER DID END UP COMING! I’VE SAVED ALL THE TEXTS.”

She begins reading texts while still shouting. I put the phone on the desk and can still hear her clearly as I look in the system to see if the technician left notes or signed off. The notes do show a delayed service. The final sign off was done in a “batch” which means the technician did not sign off personally. I decide to give the caller the benefit of the doubt since the technician should have signed off personally and zeroed out the July invoice entirely.  

The caller has not stopped shouting.

Me: *Interrupting* “Okay, I have deleted the—”

The caller interrupts me, still shouting.

Me: *Losing my cool* “Seriously, if you would just stop shouting at me for a moment I can explain how I have solved this problem!” *She stops* “I have deleted the July invoice so your current balance will reflect the usual amount.”

Caller: “NO! I AM WILLING TO PAY FOR TODAY’S SERVICE! IT IS THE JULY SERVICE I DID NOT RECEIVE…”

This continues on while I take a deep breath. This call has actually shaken me up a bit. I realize shouting is just her way of communicating.

Me: “STOP!” *Pauses* “I have deleted the July invoice as you have claimed there was no service in July. Today’s invoice will no longer include the former balance. Your balance is now the typical amount you are used to for today’s service.”

Caller: “YES! I AM HAPPY TO PAY THE BALANCE I OWE! I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR HELP IN THIS! THANK YOU! I’LL PUT THE CHECK IN THE MAIL TODAY! THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP! YOU HAVE A NICE DAY!”

I mumbled a good-bye and hung up before she could shout any more appreciation at me and noted in her file that she was a shouter but probably did not intend belligerence. I then took a quick walk around the office just to calm my nerves.

I used to work in a little thrift store. Mostly we had very low prices, especially for clothing; we were lower than any of the other thrift stores in town. This was simply because we got so much clothing donated and had so little space to put it that it was more profitable to sell it inexpensively as quickly as possible. We set one price for each type of clothing — for example, all T-shirts were a dollar — so we didn’t have to spend money or time tagging them.

This brings us to the lady with the two-dollar skirt. I was putting out clothes on the racks, aiming for our usual level of minimally disorganized, when this lady held up a long skirt to show me.

Me: “That’s very nice!”

Customer: “Well, I was just thinking about getting it because I have a pillow I want to recover, and if I went to a fabric store, this much fabric of this quality would probably cost me $18.”

Me: “That’s quite clever! It’s lucky you found a skirt you like that has enough fabric!”

But I didn’t think much of it and continued putting out the rest of the clothes I had.

About ten minutes later, the cashier asked me if I would watch the desk for a couple of minutes while she went to the bathroom, so I happened to be sitting there when the lady with the skirt walked up and set it down.

Customer: “I was wondering if there’s any flexibility on the price? Because I’m just going to use the fabric and it seems like a lot to just use some of the fabric.”

At first, I thought she was joking, and then I realize she really didn’t recognize me as the person she had just spoken to and was quite serious. I just laughed.

Me: “Really? You just told me that this was at least $18 worth of fabric and what a great buy it was.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as she actually looked at me and realized that I was the same person, and then a rather defeated, “Oh…”

I work at a gas station for a grocery store. I love my job, but sometimes… the people.

I watch as a lady stops short on the drive up to an out-of-order pump and steps out to move the cone over to the side — a real feat, as it’s heavily weighted against the wind. She gets back in her car so she can drive up properly, then gets back out, takes the red out-of-order bag off the pump handle, and proceeds to throw it into the trash.

She goes about trying to use the pump, but after a minute, she yells that the screen isn’t working!

Gasp! Shock! And HORROR! The out-of-order pump is… OUT OF ORDER!? How dare it be?!

I ignore her yelling as I would any other crazy person doing such crazy things. She walks over to my window.

Customer: “Sir, the pump isn’t working. The screen’s not on.”

I play innocent like I didn’t just watch her do what she did.

Me: “Really? Which pump?”

Customer: “Pump number eight, I believe it is.”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry, ma’am, but pump eight is shut down at the moment. It needs repairs.”

Customer: “It needs repairs? I didn’t know.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. You didn’t run over the cone there, did you?”

Customer: “No. I don’t think so.”

Me: “Good. It could really damage your vehicle if you were to run it over. But it’s there to let you know that the pump is out of order.”

Customer: “Is that what it means? Well, I guess I’ll go to another one.”

Me: “That would be best.”

She leaves. I want to cry.

I was a new sailor, getting ready to report to my first ship. My wife and I had driven all the way across the country to the base where my ship was home-ported, so we were totally unfamiliar with the area. We got a hotel room while we looked for apartments, but the next day I got really sick. Two of my teeth on my upper jaw hurt so much I couldn’t sleep, so we grabbed my medical and dental records — this was a long time ago, when sailors hand-carried their records between assignments — and managed to find our way to the local Navy hospital. I checked into the dental office, and they got me in very quickly because I was obviously in a lot of pain.

The dentist, a Navy Lieutenant, poked and prodded a bit, had an x-ray taken, and then told me there was nothing wrong with my teeth. She said I probably had a raging sinus infection and had one of the nurses take me to the emergency room on the ground floor.

An hour or so later, I was diagnosed with a sinus infection, given a paper prescription, and sent to the on-site pharmacy. I grabbed a number and waited, still dazed by the constant pain in my face from the infection. My wife had to tell me when they called my number, and she escorted me to the pharmacy window. The pharmacy tech rattled off a bunch of stuff about the medicines I wasn’t coherent enough to follow, but I did make out that I needed to start taking them right away.

Fine. No problem. We sat back down and I read the labels. The largest bottle said I had to take four pills right away. I staggered to the water fountain in the lobby and swallowed one of everything, plus four of the pills from the big bottle. I walked back to where my wife was sitting, and she started putting the bottles of pills in her purse, giving each bottle a quick look to see if any needed to be refrigerated. Then, she paused and said, “Oh, f***!”

She dragged me up to the prescription drop-off window and hollered for help. An older man came to see what was wrong, and my wife showed him the large bottle and my ID card. The pharmacy tech turned white as a sheet and said, “Oh, f***!”, and then called for a gurney and a doctor.

The next couple of hours were a blur of activity I don’t remember much about, ending with me admitted overnight for observation. It seems the pharmacy tech who’d handed me my pills had also grabbed a bottle intended for another patient — the large bottle. I had taken a quadruple dose of a major blood-pressure medication and my blood pressure was dangerously low by the time the ER managed to get me hooked up to an EKG.

Even in military medicine, almost killing the patients is generally contraindicated. I recovered fine, but there was a major investigation at the hospital, and the pharmacy tech who handed me the wrong pills ended up demoted or transferred someplace unpleasant — perhaps both. The pharmacy at that hospital changed their standard operating procedures to require careful verification of the name on every label and to cross-check every prescription issued with the patient’s medical record.

That’s how the US Navy nearly got me killed before I set foot aboard my first ship.

I work at a hardware store, in the paint department. Customers often ask for half-gallons, but we only sell in gallons and quarts. A customer comes up to me asking for a particular color.

Customer: “I’d like a half-gallon of [color] in flat.”

Me: “Sorry, but unfortunately, we don’t carry half-gallons. We sell gallons and quarts.”

Customer: “Oh, all right. Then I’ll take two quarts.”

Me: “I can make that for you if you’d like, but just to let you know, the price of two quarts is only about a dollar less than getting a gallon. I know that doesn’t make sense mathematically, but it’s the way the store prices them.”

Customer: “But I don’t need that much paint.”

Me: “I understand, and I’ll make the two quarts if you like. I’m just letting you know that the gallon is more cost-effective.”

Customer: “I’ll take the two quarts.”

Me: “All right. I’ll have that ready for you in five minutes.”

I enter the order into the system, then go to get the two quarts. I set them up and put the tint into the first can. As the tint starts pouring into the second, the customer comes back to me.

Customer: “Oh, I just noticed that a gallon is only about a dollar more than getting two quarts. I’ll take the gallon, instead.”