(I have had trouble with a delivery company for many years. I can’t even count the number of complaints I have filed over the years. They don’t like to drive down my long driveway in the rural area I live in, so they keep leaving my packages on a neighbor’s front porch. The neighbor, while nice, is a heavy smoker. And when I say, “heavy smoker,” I mean that when she opens her front door, you can see the smoke roll out. On top of that, she has two dogs that she keeps in kennels in her living room while she works. When they have accidents, they dig the poop out and splatter it on the walls. There are no words to describe the horrible smell of her home. Whenever I have a package coming, I try to watch the tracking and run over to her front porch and get it before she gets home. One week I have a lot going on and forget about it. Several days later, the neighbor hands me my package of books. The box stinks so bad I decide I’m not even going to open it. I call the company that sent it, complain, and demand the delivery company come back, pick it up, and pay for a replacement because I will not accept it. They did so, and that evening I get a call from the manager at the hub.)

Manager: “Ma’am, this is [Delivery Company]. I am calling to apologize.”

Me: “Let me guess; you are the lucky duck that got to open that package, huh?”

Manager: “I… I… don’t even know what to say. The smell knocked us back. It stunk up the whole back of the truck. I will be honest, all the complaints… We thought you were just being a bad customer. I’m… We’re sorry. I promise you will never have an issue again. We are contacting the company that shipped this and we will pay for a replacement.”

(And no, I never had another issue with the delivery company putting my packages on a neighbor’s front porch.)

(I recently purchased a number of items online from a women’s garment store. Normally I physically go to the store but in this case, I felt like buying online. When I receive my items, one has a defect with a strap. On the back of the packing slip, there are instructions for return or exchange, including information about returning the item in the store. My husband and I happen to be going to a mall with this store in it within the next day or two, so I decide to exchange the item in store rather than mail it back. This is my experience at the store. I walk up to the cash registers.)

Me: “Hi there. I ordered this bra online recently, tried it on, liked it, removed the tags, but on the one and only time I wore it, I noticed there is a defect with the strap.” *pulls the bra out of the bag I’ve brought it in to show her* “The strap wasn’t threaded through both bits of the slide, so it won’t stay up. I don’t need a refund — I actually really like it — I was just hoping to exchange it for one exactly the same but without a defect.”

(The cashier is very nice and finds me a sales associate to help find the specific style of bra in store.)

Sales Associate: “Hmm, so, it appears that we don’t carry that specific style or size in the store. I’m really sorry.”

Me: “Okay, that’s not a big problem. I’m fine with exchanging for something similar for the same value.”

(I show the associate all the paperwork I’ve brought to confirm the price.)

Sale Associate: “Okay, that is probably fine; let me just check with the manager. Since you bought it online, I just need to double check.”

Me: “No problem. I’ll just browse until you are done.”

(Everyone has been very pleasant and helpful. I’ve made it clear now to two people I am not looking for cash; I just want to exchange the item directly. It’s also worth noting that when I purchased the items on the website, they were purchased via a Canadian source, so I paid in Canadian dollars, and the items were shipped from Eastern Canada. The manager and sales associate approach me.)

Manager: *already sighing* “Yeah, hi. So. You bought that online.”

Me: “Yes, that’s right.”

Manager: “So… we don’t do returns for online purchases. I could maybe give you a credit, but that’s it.”

Me: “Sorry, I wasn’t looking to return it; I’d just like to exchange it for something of equal value if I can’t get the exact same one.”

Manager: “No, I don’t think you understand. You bought it online. We don’t return things from an online purchase.”

Me: *still calm but frustrated* “That’s confusing, because—“ *showing her* “—on the packing slip, on the back here, it says you can return or exchange in store.”

Manager: *not even looking at the paper, in a condescending voice* “You purchased that from an American website, so you can’t return it to a Canadian store.”

Me: “Really? I am certain that I purchased it from a Canadian—“

Manager: *even more condescending* “No, I understand. You paid Canadian dollars, but you purchased it from an American website. We don’t even have a ‘.ca’ website.”

Me: *pause* “Ah, okay. Um… So. What do you suggest?”

Manager: “Call the number for the website. They’ll have to tell you what to do.”

Me: “Right. So, I guess I have to mail it.”

Manager: “Yep. Thanks.” *walks away*

Sales Associate: “I am… really sorry.”

Me: “It’s all right. I guess I didn’t read the fine print. Thanks for your help.”

(Later I relayed the interaction to my husband, who insisted I submit a complaint about the manager’s behavior. We also did a quick Google search for the company, and lo and behold, the first result was a sponsored advertisement — for a “.ca” website. I checked the return label; yep, Canadian. I guess that manager needed a bit of education on her policies.)

(I work for a company that hires a lot of temporary workers and always has payroll problems with them, resulting in a lot of late checks. This particular temporary worker has already had their check delayed over a month, and they’ve come to collect it now that it has finally come in. They have a very long and complicated Eastern European last name. My name is Brian.)

Employee: *sighing after finally getting their long-sought-after check* “My name is spelled wrong.”

Me: “Okay. I can send it back for you — and I’m not going to lie, it will probably take payroll even longer to get a new check issued — or you can try and cash it anyway. Considering the number of checks I have cashed with my name spelled, ‘Brain,’ you are probably going to be fine. If not, I’ll keep yelling at payroll until they get everything straightened out for you.”

(Luckily, they got a laugh out of this and, after I checked on them a few days later, everything went fine with depositing their misspelled check.)

(I have my Internet provided by a company that was recently bought out by a company that offers the worst customer service. I have just had our service set up at our new house. When I receive my first bill I see they have spelled my name wrong, throwing in an extra A, so I call to have it corrected.)

Representative: “Hello. Thank you for calling [Internet Provider]. How may I help you?”

Me: “Hello. I just received my first bill from you guys, but it looks like my name is spelled incorrectly and I would like to have it fixed. You guys threw in an extra A.”

Representative: “I’m sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, we cannot fix this over the phone. You will have to drive to one of our stores and show your ID as proof of the mistake, and then it will be fixed.”

Me: “Really? The closest store to me is an hour away. Is there no way to fix this over the phone?”

Representative: “Nope. You have to drive to a store.”

Me: “So, just so I’m clear… I have to take time out of my day to drive an hour out of my way, to fix my name that one of your people spelled incorrectly to begin with?”

Representative: “Yup.”

Me: “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

(To this day I still have the extra A hanging on my name. I do laugh when I have to call in for something and they drag out that incorrect A in the pronunciation.)

(I’m at a fast food burger place that’s offering a two-for-[price] special on various sandwiches at various prices. My friend and I decide to split lunch since that’s cheaper than the combo meals.)

Me: “Can I get two [burgers], one with no pickles and one with no onions, two small fries, and two small drinks?”

Cashier: *frowning at her till and taking a LONG time to type this in, then angrily* “Anything else?”

Me: “No… Can you read that back, please?”

Cashier: *like she’s doing me a favor* “Two [burgers], two fries, two drinks. Total’s [way too much].”

Me: “Um… I thought those were currently two for five?”

Cashier: “Yeah.”

Me: “What size drink and fries did you put in?”

Cashier: “Well, you didn’t say so I put in large.”

Me: “I said, ‘two small fries and two small drinks.’”

Cashier: “Whatever.” *takes even longer to undo it and put it back in* “That’s [correct total].”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I pay, and pretty soon we get our food. They don’t mark which burger is which, so my friend checks since he’s a germaphobe and I’m not.)

Friend: “Uh…” *opens and checks the other one* “SERIOUSLY?!”

Me: “What?”

Friend: *points at one* “Pickles and onions.” *points at the other* “Pickles and onions.”

(I’m normally not the type to make a scene, but I am still steamed from the snotty attitude before. We head back up and thankfully catch the manager, who immediately has them remake our burgers. The cashier comes up and — before we even say anything to her so she MUST know she screwed up — starts yelling at us.)

Cashier: “Oh, what’s wrong now?!”

Me: “I said, ‘one with no pickles, and one with no onions’!”

Cashier: “You can’t do that!”

Me: “Yes, you can!”

Manager: “Of course he can!”

Cashier: “You can’t customize things when you’re hitting the special!”

Manager: “Yes, you can. I already showed you how earlier because this happened before.”

Cashier: “Whatever. I’m going on my break.”

(With that, she just walked off. The manager apologized and got us our burgers, along with a new set of fries to make sure they were still hot. Thankfully, we got the right toppings this time!)