I’m driving a leg of a bus route that goes from Dallas to New York. My portion of the run is from Atlanta, Georgia to Raleigh, North Carolina. The bus clearly says, “NEW YORK,” on the destination sign, but that doesn’t stop people from asking where the bus is going.

This exchange happens while I’m waiting for my passenger to come out of the station to the bus. A random lady walks up to me:

Lady: “Is this bus going to Jackson, Mississippi?”

Me: *Dumbfounded* “No, ma’am, it’s going to New York.”

Lady: “Oh… Well, is it going to Jackson, Mississippi after that?”

For several days, I’ve been receiving phone calls for a man. I keep telling people that they have the wrong number, but more and more companies keep calling. They’re for auto insurance quotes, realtors, and landlords trying to set up viewings, banks — all sorts of things that, when put together, makes it sound like [Wrong Person] is moving to the area. The truly bizarre part is that my number is from when I lived in another state, but all the calls are from businesses within half an hour of my current home. I keep telling them that they have the wrong number, but this caller is the worst.

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Hi, this is [Caller] with [Bike Dealership]. I’m looking for [Wrong Person].”

Me: “I’m sorry, he keeps giving out this number but it’s incorrect.”

Caller: “Uhhh, is this [my number]?”

Me: “Yes, but [Wrong Person] is not associated with it.”

Caller: “Well, he put it down as his contact.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t know him.”

Caller:  “Can you give me his number?”

Me: *Pause* “I… just said I don’t know him.”

Caller: “I need to talk to him about this bike we’re customizing for him.”

Me: *Sigh* “I don’t know him, nor do I know how to get in contact with him.”

Caller: “Just tell him to call me back.”

Me: “I can’t. I don’t—”

He hangs up.

Not five minutes later, the same number calls again.

Me: “If you’re calling for [Wrong Person], stop.”

Caller: “Quit f****** around. I’ve got work to do. Put him on.”

Me: “Why would I tell you he’s not here if he is?”

Caller: “I don’t know but you need to stop. I’m busy and I don’t have time for this bulls***.”

Me: “Yeah, so am I, but I’m taking the time to politely tell you that there’s a mistake on your paperwork and you’re swearing at me.”

Caller: “I don’t have time for this. I really don’t. Tell [Wrong Person] to come pick up his piece of s*** bike.”

He hangs up again.

The next day, the same number calls for a third time, but I let it go to voicemail. The man leaves a message. 

Caller: “Uhh, I was trying to get in contact with [Wrong Person]… but I don’t think he’s there.”

I stopped answering numbers I didn’t know, and the calls for [Wrong Person] stopped. After the second call from that guy, I updated my voicemail message to say my name and phone number, and to say that I do NOT know anyone named [Wrong Person] and would not be responsible for relaying information to him.

I’m in the break room waiting to clock in for work and talking with my manager to pass the time. At some point in our conversation, we hear a knock at the break room door, which is unusual because to get in, normally, you punch in a code that only employees know to gain access. Thinking it is a coworker with their hands full, I go over to open the door to instead see a customer in her early twenties standing there with a book in her hand.

Me: “Hi, can I help you?”

Customer: “Actually, I was hoping someone could check me out, but I couldn’t find anyone at the registers.”

This is weird because I saw my coworker at the front registers when I came in through the front.

Me: “Are you sure?”

Customer: “Yeah, I went to look but didn’t see anyone in the back or the desk.”

My manager and I both look at each other in confusion. At my store, we have a movie and music department with its own cash registers. We sometimes have someone scheduled there in case people are just buying music or movies. Then, we have our registers immediately at the front door where there is ALWAYS someone scheduled. My manager walks up to join me and the customer.

Manager: “Did you check over at the front registers? We always have someone there.”

Customer: *Confused expression* “Front registers…?”

Manager: “Let me lead you over there.”

She led the customer to where our front registers were, leaving me absolutely confused about how this young lady said she’d checked everywhere for someone to ring her out except for the very front of the store where the cashier even greets you when you enter!

I work in a large grocery store chain. In my particular store, the deli department is right next to the bakery department. An elderly customer walks up to the bakery counter.

Customer: “Hello, I’d like a bag of your frozen clam chowder from your back freezer.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, clam chowder is in the deli.”

Customer: “No, I got it from behind this counter.”

Me: *Utterly confused* “In the… bakery, sir?”

Customer: “Yes, from this bakery.”

Not wanting to turn this into an argument, I go ask my manager the best way to handle the situation.

Me: “[Manager], how should I go about handling a customer that is absolutely convinced he got a bag of clam chowder from this bakery and not the deli?”

Manager: “I would just walk him over to where the soup is and show him.”

Me: “Right, thanks.”

I return to the customer.

Me: “Sir, if you please follow me, I’ll show you just where we keep our chowder.”

The customer notices that I’m heading away from the bakery.

Customer: “But I didn’t get it from the deli! I got it from behind this bakery right here!”

Fortunately, my manager intervenes.

Manager: “Honey, this is a bakery; we don’t have soup in this department. Please follow [My Name] and he’ll be happy to show you just where it is.”

The customer seems unsure but follows me to the deli where, mother of all surprises, we get him his chowder. It turns out that the customer had previously been served by one of our more highly customer-service-oriented employees who floats between the deli and bakery departments. She had decided to run and grab this customer his clam chowder while she was working in the bakery, unfortunately leading to his confusion. About a week later, the customer returns to the bakery counter.

Customer: “A bag of clam chowder, please.”

Me: “Deli, sir.”

He began to open his mouth before a look of realization crossed his face and he shuffled off to the deli.

Related:
Entitlement Bred From Good Intentions

I work in one of Philadelphia’s hundred museums. It’s not unusual for visitors to ask for directions to other museums when they’re done with ours, especially one made famous by a certain fictional boxer.

I am stationed in a room that people normally visit just before they’re ready to leave. A visitor makes the most confusing request I’ve had to deal with to date.

Visitor: “Can you give me directions to the museum?”

Me: “Do you mean the [Popular Art Museum]?”

Visitor: “No.”

Me: “Okay, which one are you looking for?”

Visitor: “There’s more than one?”

Me: “Yes… there are a couple of dozen museums in this city.”

Visitor: “I guess I’m looking for the [Our Museum].”

Me: “Ma’am, that’s us. You’re already here.”

Visitor: “Yes, can you give me directions?”

Me: “Are you trying to get back to the main room?”

Visitor: “No, I’m just trying to buy a shirt! How hard is that to understand? Where is the museum?!”

Me: “Oh, you mean the museum store.”

Visitor: “Yes! The museum!”