Every so often, a customer forgets their debit or credit card at the register and has already left when we discover it. If I’m the shift leader and time and circumstances allow it, I try to contact the bank so that they can let the customer know where the card is and that they can pick it up.

The reaction I hope for (and thankfully get in most cases):

Bank #1: “Thank you for letting us know. We’ll tell the customer right away.”

This is usually followed by a relieved customer showing up shortly afterward.

Unfortunately, I also had this exchange:

Bank #2: “Thank you for letting us know. The card is now blocked, and they will be sent a new one in the next few days.”

Me: “What? No, that’s exactly what I wanted to avoid. There’s no need to issue a new card. It is right here and unharmed. The owner can just pick it up.”

Bank #2: “Well, that’s our policy. I can’t make exceptions. Thank you for calling. Bye.”

This has taught me to ask about their policy before telling them the customer’s name.

And then, this happened a few days ago.

This bank is “online only” (meaning no branch offices), but they have a central customer service phone number on the back. I call it and get an automated virtual receptionist.

Bank #3: “Thank you for calling [Bank #3]. If you are calling for [A], press one; [and so on]. Cards, press five; [and so on]. Miscellaneous, press seven.”

I press five for Cards.

Bank #3: “Please state the last six digits of the account number.”

I already get a weird feeling, since this is not my card, but I reluctantly do so.

Bank #3: “Please state your personal five-digit telebanking number.”

Of course, I don’t have that, and I don’t want to guess, so I just start saying what I want, hoping that some actual person is listening in or at least getting alerted that there’s an issue.

Bank #3: “You need to state your personal five-digit telebanking number. We cannot help you without it.”

Again, I just say what I want, only to be interrupted by the automated voice.

Bank #3: “If you have misplaced this number, please hang up, look for it, and call back later. This call will now be ended.”

And so it was.

I was stunned. Then, I tried again, pressing seven this time, hopeful that there would be an actual operator for miscellaneous requests. Nope, same prompts, same result.

I was just trying to be helpful and do the right thing. Do I really have to guess some random number and commit identity theft just so I can report a debit card that I found that is not mine?!

I’m sorry for the poor customer who is not being notified now, but at least I now know which bank will never get MY money.

My father had a Ph.D. and worked in the administration in Hamburg, Germany. Through his tennis club, he became friends with a guy who was the general manager at a small factory on the outskirts of Hamburg. [Friend] didn’t have a college education — which is not remotely as unusual in Germany as it is in the USA — and [Friend] made a lot more money than my dad did. My dad suspected that [Friend] was mainly his friend so he could introduce my dad to his peers as “my friend, Dr. [Dad]”.

One day, my dad had a heart attack. It was very serious. Word traveled that he was sick, and [Friend] called our house.

Friend: “I heard something is going on with your dad. What is it, exactly?”

Me: “He’s really not well. That’s all I’m going to tell you.”

Friend: “Oh, come on. Tell me what’s going on?” 

Me: “He’s really not well. Let’s leave it at that, please.”

Friend: “No, I’m one of his closest friends. I demand that you tell me what’s going on with your dad!”

Me: “Fine. He’s had a heart attack and he’s dying. When he’s out of his misery, you and your wife will get a notification about the time and place of the funeral.”

Friend: “…”

Me: “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’d like to return to the hospital now.”

My dad died the next day.

[Friend] and his wife attended the funeral, but whenever they saw my mother later, which happened regularly in our suburb, they pretended they didn’t know her. 

I guess my father was right about his Ph.D. as a main motivator for this “friendship”.

I work in a call center, and we’re having a fire drill. The fire alarm is BLARING, but a customer doesn’t want to let my colleague hang up.

Colleague: “Ma’am, the fire alarm is going off. I need to leave the building.”

Customer: “But you haven’t answered my question!”

She just kept arguing until my colleague hung up.

We knew it was most likely a drill, but the customer didn’t. We later joked that my colleague should’ve just started coughing into the phone. I mean, I get that it’s an inconvenience to the client, but potentially dying in a fire kind of… overrides that.

Client: “Hey, just one final question before I send the deposit. Do you use a PC or a Mac?”

Me: “I use a Mac.”

Client: “That is a problem. Do you have access to a PC? I am not a supporter of Apple products.”

Me: “No, I don’t have access to a PC, but this will have little to no effect on the work itself.”

Client: “I am a Christian, and Apple products are sinful. I do not want our website to be created by a product made by this corrupt group. You need only look at their logo: an apple with a bite taken from it. Do you not know the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden? If I allowed you to create my website on a Mac, I would be just like Adam, taking a bite of the forbidden fruit.”

Silence.

Client: “Take my advice: destroy your Mac and repent for when judgment day comes. It shall be you who is cast to Hell for your sins.”

Me: *Blocks the contact*

My husband and I just bought season admission passes to a local amusement park, alongside meal plans and a parking pass. On the first day that we arrive at the park, there is an attendant in a booth scanning QR codes for admission. My husband is driving, but the booth is positioned between two entrance lanes, so the attendant for our lane is on the passenger side by me.

The attendant scans my admission pass.

Attendant: “Parking is [amount]. Will that be cash or card?”

Husband: “I already bought a season parking pass.”

He holds out his phone with “PARKING PASS” clearly written at the top of the screen. The attendant scans his code and then looks at me.

Attendant: “That’s not your parking pass.”

Husband: “It’s mine. I have my admission pass here.”

He holds out his phone again. The attendant doesn’t try to scan the pass.

Attendant: “No, she needs a parking pass.”

Husband: “We’re in the same car. I don’t understand.”

Attendant: *Annoyed* “You need to pay for parking.”

Me: “We already did. It’s right there.”

Attendant: “Miss, there’s no need to get disrespectful. If you cannot be polite, I will have you escorted off the property.”

Me: “That is our parking pass.”

Attendant: “Okay, you need to pull to the side. I’m going to have my manager talk to you.”

We pull over and wait, wondering what we’ve done wrong. A manager comes out with a police officer.

Manager: “My attendant tells me you refuse to pay for parking.”

Husband: “We have season passes for everything. She refused to scan my admission pass and kept saying my wife needed to pay for parking even though we are in the same car and I have a parking pass.”

He shows the manager and the officer the QR codes and the emails confirming everything.

Officer: “I don’t understand why she called us out here.”

Me: “Neither do we.”

Manager: “Okay, go ahead in. I’ll talk to her.”

We went in without another issue. The next time we went, everything was perfectly fine. I’m still not sure what the attendant was thinking.