(I’m a banker. We’ve just hired another banker in, and it’s his first day at a desk after finishing his training. I’m on a conference call, and he’s shuffling things around at his desk. I’m female.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name]!”

Me: *mutes call* “What’s up?”

Coworker: “Where’s the coffee?”

Me: “Oh, it’s in Commercial Banking.”

Coworker: “Go get me some!”

Me: “Come again?”

Coworker: “Fine. Go get me some, please.”

Me: “I’m on a call right now. It’s really just down the hall, though.”

Coworker: “Gah! I’ll get my own.”

(I go back to my call, slightly confused. A couple of hours later, I’m working on documents for a loan closing.)

Me: *thinking out loud* “So, if they do an automatic payment every month, I can get the interest rate down to 3%…”

(I look up for a second and see him standing in front of my desk.)

Coworker: *insistently* “[My Name]!”

Me: *jumps* “Geez! Where did you come from?”

Coworker: “I need copies made!”

Me: “No problem. I’ll show you where the copier is!”

Coworker: “Can’t you just do it for me? I need ten.”

Me: *confused* “No?”

Coworker: “Why not?!”

Me: “I have a lot of appointments this afternoon and a loan closing right at nine tomorrow that I have to get ready for. I can show you where the copier is.”

(He follows me to the copier, muttering under his breath. I don’t think anything of it until I’m pulled aside by our boss the next day.)

Boss: “[Coworker] tells me that you’re not being very helpful.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Boss: “He said you were very rude yesterday in answering his questions.”

Me: “He asked me to get him coffee while I was on that call you wanted me to be on, and to make copies for him while I was preparing for [Customer]’s loan closing.”

Boss: *long pause* “I see. Never mind. Go back to your desk.”

(A couple days later, we both have a meeting with our boss.)

Boss: “…and [My Name], you had a great sales week! You closed that loan and opened several new accounts!”

Coworker: “[My Name] makes sales?!“

Me: “Yes! What do you think I’ve been doing all week?”

Coworker: *genuinely shocked* “Are you a banker, like me?”

Me: “What did you think I was?”

Coworker: “Uh, um… I plead the fifth! Can I go back to my desk now?”

(He was much nicer to me after that.)

(My friends and I go out to a pretty good bar and restaurant for dinner. There’s a baseball game on and the place is pretty crowded, but we don’t mind the fans. We sit down and our waitress comes over.)

Waitress: “Hi there. How’s it going? You guys excited for the [Team] tonight?”

Me: “Nah, we don’t really watch sports.”

Waitress: *shocked* “Oh? Then what brings you out tonight?”

Friend: “Uh, we like food?”

(I’m covering for a coworker during her break at the service desk and this happens:)

Customer: *puts spray paint on the desk*

Me: “Was anything wrong with it?”

Customer: “No, just the wrong color.”

Me: “Do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No. They’re the same price. Can’t I just even exchange?”

Me: “While that might be the case, I still need to process it on the register. Did you have a rewards card?”

Customer: “No.”

(He then tells me again that they are the same price and it should be easy.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir; that’s not how it works. Do you have your driver’s license so I can process the refund?”

Customer: *gives me a long, annoyed look* “Why do you need that?”

Me: “For the system records.”

Customer: “Ugh! Hold on; it’s in my car.”

(Twenty minutes later, I don’t believe he is going to return, but he does.)

Customer: “This better work, because I had to drive all the way home to get it!”

(How is that my fault? You’re driving without a license! I process his return.)

Me: “All set. Would you like a receipt?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Are you sure? In case it’s the wrong color. This way you don’t have to go through it all again.”

Customer: “No. I don’t need one.”

Me: “Okay, have a good day!”

(A week later, he came back to return it… without a receipt.)

Related:
Returner Burner, Part 4
Returner Burner, Part 5
Returner Burner, Part 6

(It’s the mid 90s, I’m about 15 years old, and my brother is in his early 20s. My brother gives me a comic that he found. It is the #1 issue of “The Man of Steel,” and he’s convinced that he is gifting me something that is worth hundreds – possibly thousands – of dollars. There’s only one comic book store in town, and he thinks I should call them and see if they are willing to buy it since I really could use the money. I pick up the phone after looking up the number, but as soon as I go to dial, my brother takes the phone from me and says that HE should call, since the comic shop will not want to “talk to a kid.” He dials the number and I can hear the phone ringing in the earpiece from where I’m sitting.)

Employee: “[Comic and Coin Shop], how can I help you?”

(My brother, at that very moment, tries to hold in a loud burp that springs up from the depths of the pit he calls a stomach. However, all he manages to do is slightly muffle the brunt of the guttural explosion, puffing up his cheeks, and making a disgustingly wet, rasping, and hissing noise right into the microphone. Then he tries to carry on with the phone call, as if he didn’t just electronically belch in the guy’s ear, and waves his free hand in a “hang on a second” gesture as if the man was able to see it.)

Brother: “Yeah, we, w- we, we, we, wa-w-w-wait, wait, wait—”

(Somehow, he manages one more belch. Then there’s silence.)

Brother: *looking angry and genuinely confused at the same time, looks at the handset* “He hung up on me.”

Me: “You f******* think so?”

(After some hard laughter on my part, I called the comic store myself, and found out the comic was worth about $10. To this day I can’t tell — or even write — this story without laughing. I don’t think I’ll ever sell that comic.)

(My two sisters and I decide to meet at a local restaurant for dinner on Veteran’s Day. When the server arrives, my youngest sister has a question.)

Youngest Sister: “Do you have a military discount?”

Server: “We offer a Veteran’s Day discount today, 10% off. Which one of you ladies is the veteran?”

Oldest Sister: “All of us.” *pointing to herself* “Army.” *points at my youngest sister* “Navy.” *points at me* “Marine Corps.”

Server: *visibly shocked* “Really? That’s amazing!”

Me: “Yeah, mom had the recruiter on speed-dial.”

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