I work in a bakery inside a grocery store. While we do take orders directly at the bakery, we also have a separate position called “event planning”. We are trained to direct all bakery orders to event planning first since their primary job is to take orders and help customers choose what they want, while all of us in the bakery are almost always multitasking as is. That being said, we don’t complain or drag our feet if event planning is unavailable, or even if a customer would just rather place an order directly with us.

Me: *Answering the phone* “Thank you for calling [Store] bakery. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I’d like to place a cake order for tomorrow.”

Me: “Absolutely. One moment, please, while I transfer you to event planning, who will be happy to help you take that order and answer any questions you may have.”

This standard sentence that we’re trained to say is almost always responded to with a simple, “Okay, thank you!”, but not this time.

Customer: *Instantly furious* “Ex-cuse me? What on earth do you mean?!”

Me: *Briefly taken aback* “Oh, my apologies. Usually, we do have someone from our event planning department take our bakery orders, but if you’d prefer to place it direc—”

Customer: “No! No! Last time, I placed the order in the bakery! There was no ‘event’! What is your name?!”

Fortunately, my manager already heard the customer screaming, and she gestures for me to hand the phone over to her before I need to respond.

Manager: “Hello, I’m the manager of this bakery. While we are always happy to take your order here in the bakery if you prefer, event planning is the department that takes orders first if they’re available. If you’d prefer not to place your order with them and instead place it with us, that’s perfectly fine, and you need only ask. Now, may I ask why you felt the need to scream at my employee over what should have been a very simple interaction?”

A few moments pass.

Manager: *Turns to me* “She hung up. Hand the phone straight to me if she calls back, okay?”

Me: “Yes, thank you.” 

She never called back.

I work at a home improvement store. The assistant flooring manager moved up, meaning we needed a person to fill the space. The only person who applied was an older lady with MANY health issues, which have caused my department to have some issues.

My name is a six-syllable name and many people ask if I have a nickname. No. I went all through school going by the shortened version of my name, and I’m done with trying to make it easy on people.

New Assistant: “Your name is too hard! Don’t you have a nickname or something? Like [First Half of my name] or [Second Half]?”

Either half could be a girl’s name.

Me: “No. My name is [My Name]. Not [First Half], not [Second Half]. Just [My Name].”

New Assistant: “But that’s too haaaarrrdddd! Too many syllables! What if I call you [My First Initial]?”

Me: “Mm… absolutely not. It’s [My Name].”

New Assistant: “ [My First Initial]?”

Me: “[My Name].”

New Assistant: “ [My First Initial]?”

Me: “You can try calling me that, but I will only ever respond to [My Name].”

And I walked away before I punched this fifty-year-old lady in the face. My name is my name. Don’t try to shorten it.

In a university business law class, we’re organized into groups of four for class presentations. One woman in my group takes an immediate dislike to me. She treats the other members normally and they treat me normally, and I have no idea why I’ve earned her ire. Perhaps because law isn’t my major?

We agree to meet in the school library later on to plan our presentation. I tell the group ahead of time that I will not be available on a certain date, as I’ll be working all day on a time-sensitive project for my major. We all set a date.

Except… the meetup time is suddenly changed, by [Woman], to another time, mere hours before the original time. That’s not enough time for some people to change their day around, especially students with days full of three-hour classes. While the others can make it, I can’t.

This pattern repeats itself several times, each time with far too little notice for me to be able to attend. I haven’t been able to contribute much to the presentation. With the deadline approaching, we all plan to meet one more time. [Woman], naturally, insists it takes place on the date I’d warned them about. I, naturally, refuse.

The next thing I hear from her is an email, addressed to the professor and the other members, blasting me for being uncooperative and not contributing anything to the presentation. She recommends to the professor that I get no marks for the project. I simply respond to all with my side of the story. The presentation date arrives. Despite my minimal contributions to it, I get the same marks as everyone else.

Our next project is a mock trial of an example case where a customer was injured. I realize I could make a quick stop-motion recreation of the event with some toys I have to add a visual component to our argument. I say I’ll do it in addition to my regular contribution, and the group can review and veto the video if they don’t like it. [Woman] thinks it’s a terrible, childish idea, while the other group members think it’s a great idea.

[Woman] doesn’t pull her rescheduling shenanigans this time around, so I’m able to contribute more proportionally to the project’s text content. I’m also able to complete my video. It’s crude, but it’s effective. I show it to the group before our turn in “court”, and opinions haven’t changed: the three of us love it while [Woman] thinks it’s the worst idea in the world. We use it in our trial.

I can’t remember if we won our case, but I will always remember the look of anger on [Woman]’s face as we got our marks for it. The professor gave the group extra points for the video. He loved the creativity of it, as none of the other groups had included any sort of recreation for their cases.

I take pride in cooking customers’ orders to perfection, and I strive to always make the customer happy. We have one customer that this is impossible for, and they call back every time no matter what.

Caller: “You messed up my order… again!

I try not to let the strain show in my voice.

Me: “What is wrong with it this time, sir?”

Caller: “You undercooked the noodles! They’re hard!”

Me: “Sir, the noodles have actually been overcooked, as this is something you’ve complained about in the past.”

Caller: “Are you calling me a liar?!”

Me: “No, sir, I am just saying that you’re wrong.”

Caller: “You’re going to send me replacement noodles, and you’re going to refund me the original order for the inconvenience of making me wait!”

Me: “And I assume you won’t be returning the original noodles?”

Caller: “I’ll feed them to my dog so they don’t go to waste!”

I’ve finally had enough.

Me: “Today, sir, was your last meal from us. I am now deleting your account and blocking all of the numbers that you have ever called us from. When you call, you will get a never-ending elevator music tone. I am also taking the liberty of emailing every takeout place in a three-mile radius of our store to inform them of your selfish habit. We all talk to each other, and we all report customers like you. I will tell them what you do and how many times you have done it to us. I wish you many happy grocery-store-bought ready-meals from now on, sir.” *Click*

Related:
When Late-Night Fast-Food Workers Snap

One summer, I worked at a “hotel and day spa for dogs and cats”. You think they’re just being cute, but you could take your dog in for a massage, and only certain people were qualified to give dogs massages. (I was not one of them.)

The cheapest “suite” was $55 a night, and they went up to $135 a night, which got your dog a TV (tuned to Animal Planet or home videos), four walks a day (instead of three), a place on the rotunda that looked out into the office park, and a webcam so you could check in on your pets while on vacation.

Of course, we had some people that required bottled water for their pets, which they had to provide themselves. We even had one group of dogs that were accompanied on their stay by a small, wooden box containing the ashes of another dog!

However, my favorite was this one woman.

Customer: “I’d also like to request the special water for smaller dogs.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have anything like that.”

Customer: “I saw online that you had special water for smaller dogs! My dog is small, and I want him to have the special water!

I pulled up the website and read it.

Me: “Ma’am, the website says that we have special water dishes for smaller dogs, and I can, of course, ensure that your dog gets one of those.”

Customer: “You just changed that! You’re just being lazy! I want the special water for my dog! You just don’t like smaller dogs!”

After a few minutes of debate, my coworker overheard us and went to fill up a bowl with said “special water”, which happened to be very similar to tap water from the kitchen. She placed it next to the dog, who started lapping it up.

Customer: “There you go! Was that so hard?”

She paid and left her dog with us.

Me: *To my coworker* “Isn’t that technically lying?”

Coworker: “Did you hear me say anything to the customer?”

Me: “No… Oh! Very clever!”

Coworker: “Sometimes you just have to let them wear themselves out…”

Related:
H2-Slow, Part 26
H2-Slow, Part 25
H2-Slow, Part 24
H2-Slow, Part 23
H2-Slow, Part 22