A year ago, I did tech support for a TV company that also handled Internet. I was a part of something called the “advanced resolution team”, meaning I had the power of a manager (credits, extra offers, and such) without the pay but got all the angry people who continued to call in.

One day, I get a call from a customer.

Customer: “I’m not able to download a show on my TV to play it back, and my TV apps aren’t working.”

I go through all the normal questions. “Is everything else working? Is it only affecting Internet-related TV items?” So on and so forth.

I begin my flow for Internet issues and do the basic troubleshooting.

Me: “Can you please check your router and tell me what you see?”

Customer: “There are no lights on my router.”

I guide him through resetting the router. Four minutes later:

Me: “Do you see any lights on the router now?”

Customer: “No, still no lights.”

Me: “All right, sir, is anything else in your home experiencing Internet issues?”

Customer: “The Wi-Fi on my phone isn’t working, and neither is the Internet on my computer.”

I halt my troubleshooting.

Me: “I’ll have to transfer you over to our Internet department due to your Internet being down and your router not working properly.”

The man begins to laugh.

Customer: “I don’t care if anything else has Internet. I just want my TV to have Internet.”

I let out a sigh. I know this is going to be a battle.

Me: “If your router isn’t showing lights, your Internet is down. We cannot only put Internet on your TV since your Internet itself isn’t working.”

Customer: *Irritated* “You don’t want to help me. You only want to pass me off because you don’t know how to do your job!”

Me: “I can only troubleshoot TV tech issues. Because of the issue being your Internet, the Internet department needs to further assist you.”

I was so aggravated. I was yelled at for seven straight minutes about how he only needed the Internet on his TV and we controlled the Internet. My supervisor came over due to my call time being high. I explained the issue and their only resolution was to be a broken record. After ten more minutes of explaining that I couldn’t magically turn on the Internet for only his TV, I cold transferred him to the Internet department, took off my headset, and sat under my desk for the next five minutes.

It was less than a week before Christmas. It was nearing the end of my eleventh year of school. I was with my friend, looking for new casual outfits for the year-end party that our school held annually. It was lunch break, and we were walking around the mall located directly in front of our school.

We were both wearing black pants, black leather shoes, and yellow collared shirts since our school decided to color code the students according to their departments. The staff inside the mall were wearing tailored shirts and skirts, so the situation I went through was even more baffling.

We decided to first look at the shoe aisle since there were fewer people there and my friend wanted to wear new shoes to the party. I noticed that there was a group of women, maybe in their early to late thirties, in the middle of the store. Despite the hustle and bustle, they were by far the noisiest there. For some reason, the moment I looked at them, a woman who was taller than me started eyeing me. My guts told me that it was not going to end well with her, so I avoided further eye contact and just continued shopping.

About fifteen minutes later, when I finally found the dress that I wanted, I heard the group of women saying things along the lines of:

Woman #1: “It’s so messy in here!”

Woman #2: “Shouldn’t this be a mall? There are clothes everywhere.”

Woman #3: “No one is even here to assist people.”

Woman #4: “Some of the staff are just standing around.”

For the record, it was a fairly small store and since it was that time of the year, the staff were awfully busy. There was a tsunami of people, so it’s no question that the place had clothes lying around. The place was normally very tidy, though.

I just continued to ignore them and proceeded to kneel on the floor and search the lower racks for accessories. No more than a minute later, loud stomping headed my way, followed by a sharp tap — almost a slap — on my shoulder. It was the woman I had made eye contact with. Without even letting me ask what her problem was, she bombarded me with her questions and accusations.

Woman #1: “I’ve been calling for your attention for a while now, but you were ignoring me. How thick of a skin must you have? Look at this place! It’s a mess. How could anyone find what they are looking for? Shouldn’t you be assisting the customers and folding the clothes that they chose from and putting them back where they got them?”

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from questioning her sanity. There were at least forty customers at the store at that time. How could she expect to see a staff member waiting for every single one of them?

My friend in the aisle behind me was watching this all unfold. After more than a minute of the woman yapping, I slowly and clearly said:

Me: “Ma’am, that is not my job. I don’t work here.”

Woman #1: “That’s impossible! You look just like… them?”

I wanted to capture that moment when she looked at the cashier about five aisles away and realized that we were wearing different uniforms. She backed off without apologizing and stormed to her companions. Needless to say, she was embarrassed.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 42
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 41
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 40
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 39
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 38

It is 1991. I am working on Christmas Eve. There are eight of us, including the owners, and we are closing at 5:00 pm to have a little celebration.

At 4:55 pm, this lady comes through the door, upset and in disarray. Keep in mind, this being Christmas Eve, the counters are fairly bare, and this is a hardware store, after all.

Customer: “I need you to stay open late so that I can get Christmas presents for my kids!”

She looks around for ten minutes and has an absolute fit about us not having any child-friendly toys. Then, she exclaims:

Customer: “You’ve ruined it for me! I’ll have to go to a gas station!”

Owner: “Lady, did you not know that Christmas has been coming for the last year?”

She went red and slunk out of the store. I love the owner; he doesn’t put up with bulls***.

I once simply read out the total cost of groceries for a customer, and because I get so used to the majority of customers having cards, I pressed the card payment button without thinking. When the customer started digging in her purse for change:

Me: “Oh, you’re paying with cash? My mistake.”

She raised her voice and started looking for backup from a queue of frustrated customers.

Customer: “I shouldn’t have to pay by card if I don’t want to.”

She wasn’t forced to.

Customer: “Would you want to be forced to use unsafe, slower methods to pay?”

She faced the queue, neck forward, staring at people around her with upturned palms. She still hadn’t fully packed her shopping.

Next In Line: *Frustrated* “Card is quicker and safer. You are slowing everyone down. Pack your bag. You’re wasting my lunchtime!”

The lady then packed silently with her eyes fixed on me, walked toward exit, and said:

Customer: “I shall not come here again.”

She clearly expected sympathy. The next customer in line said what we can’t say and told her:

Next In Line: “Good. F*** off.”

Although I would never admit it, I don’t mind too much if someone calls when I’m on holiday. I just don’t answer it if I don’t want to talk to them. Most people only ring if it’s an emergency and they know I answer when I can.

It’s close to Christmas, and I get a phone call from an unknown number. I’m expecting a delivery so I answer it. 

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name]! It’s [Coworker]. From work!”

Me: “Oh, hey, [Coworker]. I’m actually on holiday, so…”

Coworker: “Good news! You won a prize in the raffle.”

Me: “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. So, what did I win?”

Coworker: “Some flowers!”

Me: “Oh, yeah, great. Since I’m not in, do you want to see if anyone else wants them?”

Coworker: “Well, my wife would like them.”

It all makes sense. [Coworker] never would ring me. He must have figured out he could get them for free. I bet he pretends he bought them.

Me: “Sure, [Coworker], whatever.”

Coworker: “Oh, great. Thank you!”

I set my phone down and do something else. My wife calls through from the other room.

Wife: “Your phone is ringing.”

Me: “Does it end in [numbers]?”

Wife: “Yeah.”

Me: “That will be work. I’ll leave it.”

Wife: “You’ve had three missed calls already.”

I answer it, reluctantly.

Coworker: “Hi, it’s [Coworker] again. [Boss] said the prizes weren’t transferable. Said you won it so I couldn’t have it.

Me: “Okay, well, leave it on my desk, then.”

Coworker: “But they will die.”

Me: “Put them in water? I don’t know. I don’t care, really.”

Coworker: “Fine, I guess.”

I eventually went back to work. Thankfully, it looks like the cleaners tidied the flowers up before I got back.

Someone told me later that the flowers weren’t even expensive; they were the cheapest bunch you could buy. [Coworker] interrupted my holiday so he could give his wife a £2 bunch of flowers.