(Our office occupies the bottom two floors of the building. There is a medical office on the fourth floor which is accessed by an elevator in the main lobby. Recently, there has been construction in front of the building’s main door, but pedestrians can still access the door. I am in a meeting when I am called to one of our side entrances to deal with an irate couple, a man and a woman.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

(I see that the woman is walking with a cane.)

Woman: “I want you to let me in so I can get to the elevator. I have an appointment!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is not [Medical Facility]. We can’t let you in because this area is restricted. If you want, I can walk you over to the main entrance and you can use the elevators there.”

Woman: “I can’t walk that far!”

(A coworker arrives at this time.)

Coworker: “It’s the same distance, either way. We can’t let you in.”

Man: “Well, we can’t go that way because of the construction! Unless you want to carry her, or you have a wheelchair, we need to get in this way!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we can’t do that. You can get around the construction; I promise.”

(This goes on for several minutes. After a while, the woman goes to use a phone that’s near the door.)

Woman: “Give me the number for [Doctor]!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, that phone connects to the office I just came from. We aren’t [Medical Facility]. We don’t have the number.”

Man: “Do you have any wheelchairs?”

Me: “No, we don’t.”

(The two finally leave, but not before…)

Woman: “You need to figure out how to handle cases like this better!”

Me: “You have my deepest apologies, ma’am.”

Woman: “What good’s that going to do me?!”

(They walk outside, leaving my coworker and me behind.)

Me: “They seriously want us to stock wheelchairs for people who can’t be bothered to use the main entrance?”

(I am the guest services manager at a hotel. One morning I’m asked to come speak with an irate guest.)

Me: “Good morning. What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “The problem is I nearly froze to death in that room last night! Do you guys not know how to maintain your heating systems?”

Me: “I’m so sorry. Was the heat just not kicking on?”

Customer: “No! I kept setting it warmer, and the air kept getting colder. Every time I tried turning it down, the air got colder. This is ridiculous. You need to give me my money back or something.”

Me: “I’m sorry. You say you turned it down? As in, the number on the display screen was getting lower?”

Customer: “Yes! I set it to warm, and turned down the temperature, and it just got colder!”

Me: “Well, sir, lower temperatures are colder. You have to raise the temperature for heat. Did you try calling the front desk to ask for assistance with the heating system?”

Customer: “No, of course not. I just wanted to sleep. But I turned the heat up. I put it to warm, and put the heat up. Your air conditioner is not working. I demand compensation!”

(I give in and give the guy a 10% discount, and a further 20% off his next visit, promising to have maintenance “repair” the faulty A/C. Before leaving, however, he insists that I come to the room so he can show me the problem. We walk into the room, which is freezing cold. I take one look at the display screen and see the problem: the A/C is on and cranked to full blast with the temperature at its lowest setting. I press the button marked “heat” and raise the temperature, and hot air immediately starts blowing out of the unit.)

Me: “Well, it looks like the heat was never turned on. Glad to know we could resolve this problem before the next guest checks in here. Anything else I can—”

(With that, the guest turned red and ran from the room. He hasn’t been back yet.)

(I work at a well-known pizza chain. One of our customers, a lady in her mid-thirties, is a fairly regular visitor. She often makes strange or outrageous requests, but today she targets me specifically. She comes up to the counter to pay for her dine-in order.)

Me: “How was everything?”

Customer: *grumbles*

Me: *after scanning her credit card* “Okay, all I need is your signature, and you’ll be all set!”

Customer: “I can’t sign with that pen.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Your pen. It isn’t legal.”

(My pen is a fountain pen that I bring from home, because it writes more consistently and smoothly on receipts. As far as I know, there aren’t pen restrictions in my line of work.)

Me: “Not legal?”

Customer: “Yes! You can’t make me pay if I sign with that! I need one like I use in the bank!”

Me: “Okay… Do you have such a pen with you?”

Customer: “No! I need a bank pen! Yours isn’t legal!”

Me: “I’m afraid this is the only type of pen I have available at the moment. If you happen to have another, you’re more than welcome to use it.”

Customer: “Stop being stupid! I don’t carry a bank pen!”

Me: “Then, I’m afraid that my pen is your only choice.”

Customer: “But it isn’t legal!”

(She dug around in her purse and pulled out a pencil. I don’t think she knew that signatures in pencil are even less “legal.” Interestingly, in all the times I’ve seen her since, she’s had nothing to say about my pen.)

(I get into an argument with a coworker who is annoyed that our boss is giving those who asked the day off to go to the Pride Parade. Although I am straight, a few of my family members are not and I am going to Pride to support them.)

Coworker: “I don’t get why [Boss] is giving you that day off! You’re not even gay!”

Me: “So? Ever heard of allies?”

Coworker: “Oh, my God! Everyone is asking for the day to just slack off! You know that’s our busiest day! God, is anyone going even gay?”

Me: “Uh, yeah. You know some of our coworkers are gay, right? They wear pins all the time, and their wives even come by to pick them up.”

Coworker: “Who?”

Me: “Seriously, how have you not noticed? It’s [Coworker #1] and [Coworker #2]. Their wives are so nice and—”

Coworker: “What? They aren’t lesbians! They don’t look like lesbos.”

Me: “You can’t tell people’s sexualities by looking at them.”

(My coworker laughs and walks away; however, the next day, he corners me in the break room before I sign in.)

Coworker: “You know how you said yesterday about not being able to tell people are lesbos by just looking at them?”

Me: “Well, I said you cannot tell people’s sexualities just by looking at them, not just lesbians.”

Coworker: “Yeah, whatever. I talked to your uncle while you were getting your stuff from the back yesterday and he agreed with me. Straight people just have good gaydar, I guess. Even your own family agrees with me and—” *he stops since I burst out laughing* “What? What is so funny?”

Me: “You just disproved yourself!”

Coworker: “What?”

Me: “You just said my uncle’s straight, right?”

Coworker: “Wait—”

Me: “You told my uncle, who is gay by the way, that you can tell people are gay just by looking at them. You said all this without realising my uncle was gay!”

Coworker: “But he looked straight!”

Me: “Is your definition of gay wearing sequins and having a feminine voice? Gay people come in all different shapes, races, and voices. I think I won this argument.”

Coworker: “Wow… Does your uncle hate me now?”

Me: “He probably thinks you’re a little homophobic.”

Coworker: “I don’t think anyone has ever proven me wrong so successfully.”

Me: “You proved yourself wrong, buddy. I had nothing to do with it.”

(My coworker was so shocked by this that he apologised to my uncle when he next saw him and stopped complaining about people getting off for the Pride Parade. Obviously, change doesn’t happen overnight, but he has absolutely stopped making homophobic comments, and although he didn’t come to the Parade, one of my coworkers told me he asked her where he can buy a Straight Alliance pin. He promises to come to the Pride Parade this year, so we’ll see what happens.)

(A woman in her late 40s recently hired me to add analytics to her blog. It’s basically just a vanity blog about being rich and complaining about how no one goes to church anymore and how “political correctness” is ruining society. I cringe a few times as I am reading it while I install the analytics. Nevertheless, it is a paying job and I’m not here to judge, so I do what I am paid to do, am paid for it, and move on. A month later, I get a call from her.)

Customer: “Your analyser is broken! It’s not showing the right numbers!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I’ll just go and have a look.” *checks it all out* “I’m seeing ten page loads this week. I just reloaded it, and now it’s clicked to eleven. It all seems to be working properly.”

Customer: “No, no, no! I get way more views than that!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but how do you know?”

Customer: “My husband says he reads it every day! So do all of his employees, and all my friends from bridge club, and my neighbors say they read it, too!”

(Realization slowly dawns on me.)

Me: “Oh, okay. I’m so sorry it doesn’t seem to be working correctly. I’ll look into it.”

(Stumped as to what to do, I end up finding her husband’s email address and warning him about the analytics. I get a one-line email back.)

Husband: “Well, f***. Any chance I could pay you again to just take it off the site?”

(I declined. I’m not sure what happened, but I never heard from them again.)