It is my second week of work at this pizza place. It is about 9:10 at night and I’m just starting my cleanup when a car pulls up to the pickup window. Keep in mind that we close at 9:00; that means the ovens are off and we can’t take any more orders.

As far as I know, we don’t have any orders left to be picked up, so I walk up to the window, already slightly flustered.

Customer: “Hi, I’m here to place an order. It’s for [Customer]. I want…”

She starts to rattle off an order for a LOT of pizzas before I interrupt her.

Me: “Um, I’m sorry, we’re closed. We can’t take any more orders. T- the ovens off; I can’t do anything for you.”

She looks shocked like I just slapped her.

Customer: “No, that’s not right. I called and ordered like thirty-five minutes ago.”

Now I’m embarrassed, assuming I misheard her and she is here to pick up an order, which I am almost sure we don’t have.

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were trying to order. Can I have a name and I’ll go see if it’s ready?”

She gives me the order’s name and I go in the back to see if her order is ready. Of course, there is nothing. The cook says there hasn’t been an order in the last forty-five minutes or so. Now thoroughly confused and even more flustered, I walk back to the customer who I notice is texting on her phone.

Me: “Hi. So, unfortunately, we don’t have your order; are you sure you called here? I know there’s another [Pizza Place] down in [City]; maybe you accidentally called there, instead?”

She looks exaggeratingly offended with her mouth hanging open, looking like she’s about to cry.

Customer: “You’re telling me that I called the wrong place, that I have the wrong number in my phone! I know [Boss] and I can call her. This is ridiculous! I think I know which [Pizza Place] I called!”

I’m an eighteen-year-old who has never had a job before, and I am quickly intimidated by this customer who looks to be on the verge of angry tears. I quickly backtrack and start apologizing, hoping she won’t bother my boss, who is at home taking a day off.

She starts saying how she wants so and so pizzas and I stop her, recognizing the order.

Me: “Wait, did you order a…”

I rattle off the pizzas I know were in the order.

Customer: “Yes! That’s exactly what I ordered! God, why didn’t you say you had it?!”

We don’t have it, at least not anymore.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that order was called in for a delivery to [Location]; they left with the pizzas around twenty minutes ago.”

Customer: “I know that!” *Scoffs* I’m here to pay for it!”

I’m getting less flustered and more annoyed with her. I go pull her order up on the computer and give her the total, but that’s not good enough for her. She ignores me and starts talking on the phone with someone.

Customer: *To phone* “I know, I’m right here and they won’t… So, you got them already? Yeah, I know, I’m trying to get—”

Right at that moment, the delivery driver walks through the door and is laughing with the cook. I overhear him saying that the last delivery he did — as in the order I’ve been dealing with for the past twenty minutes — gave him a forty-dollar tip.

I turn around and tell the customer that the delivery was already paid for and I point out my coworker. 

Customer: “No, I’m here to get our change back. My friend said that the driver didn’t give him change back.”

I was beyond exasperated but still worried about getting in trouble, so I told the problem to my coworkers. They ended up giving her the forty bucks back and she finally left. My coworkers and I just looked at each other in disbelief. 

We ended up with no tip for an eighty-dollar-plus order, thirty minutes behind on cleanup, and still wondering what was going through that woman’s mind.

I work as an onsite IT technician for small industries and privates.

Client: “Yes, you remember my PC? You came one month ago to install my printer and some other stuff.”

I remember very well. In fact, I remember even the second time, when she wasn’t at home and I drove ten kilometres — forty-five minutes each way in the Italian traffic — for nothing.

Client: “See, the store formatted it for some problems it had, but now I need you to redo the work of the other time.”

Me: “Yes, I can be at your house on…”

Client: “No, I can’t pay for you, so I’m asking if you can make it free.”

Me: “If it’s only for the printer, I probably can, but you have to wait until I’m called by someone near you. Let me see… Tomorrow no, maybe the day after tomorrow, but I’m not sure.”

Client: “No, tomorrow is too late. You can’t come here tonight?”

Me: “Gratis?”

Client: “Yes.”

Me: “No.”

I didn’t hear from her anymore, thank God!

I run a dog grooming business. A man walks in with his dog, who is coated in something brown. I pray it’s just mud but as he gets closer, I can smell that it’s not.

Me: *Trying not to gag* “Hello, sir.”

Man: “Rodger needs a bath.”

Me: “I see.”

Man: “He rolled in s***.”

Me: “Yes, I see.”

Man: “You can get him clean?”

Me: “I can do that.”

He hands me Rodger’s leash, which is thankfully clean, and walks away. An hour later, the man returns and collects his dog. He thanks me, pays, and leaves.

The next day, I arrive to find a voicemail from Rodger’s owner. He demands his money back. I call him to find out what happened.

Man: “Yes?”

Me: “Hello. This is [My Name] from [Groomer]. You were unhappy with Rodger’s bath?”

Man: “Yes! He’s covered in s***!”

Me: *Confused* “He is?”

Man: “Yes!”

Me: “I don’t understand. He was clean when he left me.”

Man: “And he went and rolled in s*** again! I want my money back!”

Me: “Um… No, I’m not refunding you because you allowed your dog to get dirty again.”

Man: “Yes, you will! He’s dirty!”

Me: “Then maybe you shouldn’t leave him unattended.”

Man: “I want my money back!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, sir, but I did bathe your dog and you were happy with it when you left. So I will not be refunding you.”

Man: “I’m calling the police!” *Hangs up*

I never heard from the police, nor that man, again.

Years ago, my office was a large, outside corner one I shared with two other engineers. As jobs shifted, the other two ended up moving out to other areas to work, leaving me alone in the big corner office. I still only used the one corner of the office, but we moved in an extra table to use for team meetings. An office with a good view sounds nice, but frankly, it was cold in the winter and hot in the summer, and there was a leak in the glass that let in rain when it hit the one side of the building.

One day, my manager stopped in my office and told me I had to move to another empty office down the hall by Friday morning. This was on a Wednesday afternoon. Why? A “high-level executive” had noticed that a mere engineer had a corner office and claimed it for her own. This was despite there being a freeze on moving people around at the time, which I pointed out. But being it was an executive versus me, a mere engineer, I was being moved.

So, I rushed to box everything up, arranged for my furniture to be moved — extra expense as it was last minute — arranged for my network and phone access to be moved, and did the actual move by 9:00 am on Friday. No sign of the executive. Nor by Monday. Nor the next week. Nor the week after that. Moves like this are very disruptive, especially when rushed like I had been. I didn’t mind the new office but was just annoyed by the rush and non-necessity of it.

Finally, in the middle of the third week after my rush move, she moved in. Why the delay? After claiming the office, she decided to take a vacation, hadn’t arranged to have her stuff moved before she left, and then wasn’t in a hurry to move in after she got back. Argh!

The best part was that she left the company a couple of months after that and the office has stood empty for years now.

Customer: “Hi. I don’t know how you people got my email address, but I want off the list right now!”

Me: “Okay, that’s no problem. What is your name or email address and I can remove you right away?”

Customer: “What?! I’m not giving you that! Every time I give out my personal information, this sort of stuff happens. I don’t want you to have my email!”

Me: “But, ma’am, if I don’t know your name or email address, how am I supposed to know which one to take off our email list?”

Customer: “Well, I don’t know! Don’t you have call display or something?!” *Hangs up*

Related:
Mind Reading Is Not One Of The Services We Offer, Part 2
Mind Reading Is Not One Of The Services We Offer