(I’m a customer here. I am with my girlfriend, doing some shopping in a rather posh and famous department store in the middle of the city that is known for being quite expensive. Some people who shop there can be quite snotty. We are there looking for a present for my girlfriend’s sister’s birthday. I’m in a suit that does not look like a uniform at all. A customer comes up to me, holding a printed-out list with pictures of bags on.)

Customer: “I want you to find [three items]. I’m in a hurry; just let me see them, and then you can pack them up for me.”

Me: “Uh, I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Look: this is for my wife. I have a job to get back to; now do yours.”

Me: “I seriously do not work here, and besides, there is a line. There are two people behind us.”

Customer: *shoves the papers hard into my chest* “Here. Just go and find them. Don’t be a lazy c*** and fob me off. I know you lot work on commission, so it’s in your interest to serve me. Now do this, or get a real f****** job like me!”

Me: “Okay, sir, would that be the job whose company’s logo is on your umbrella?”

Customer: “Yes! Get me my bags now!”

Me: “Sure. I just have to ask your name to put you on the list for getting in line. And out of curiosity, it wouldn’t happen to be [Location down the street] you work at?”

Customer: “For f***’s sake. It’s [Customer], and yes, I do. Now, I have to go back there, so hurry yourself up, boy.”

(I pull out my phone, call my office, and ask to look up the customer’s name. As I’m doing this, he starts to go off, raising his voice about how I am bad at my job, should be fired, what kind of s*** am I pulling, etc. He calms down very quickly once I start to say his details for his work back to him. I thank my secretary and tell her I’ll be calling her back in a moment.)

Me: “[Customer], I’m [My Name], and I’m [Position making me his boss’ boss]. I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you. Due to your actions here today, it has become unclear whether you are a person we wish to have associated with [Company]; you have been placed on a two-week supervision period. If during those two weeks any of your work or behavior is unsatisfactory in any way, your employment will be terminated. Now, please take your papers back and wait for someone who works here to help you.”

(I called my secretary back, while the guy looked at me like I’d slapped him.)

(My neighbor is in his mid-forties and is a child of a trust fund, so he’s always had people available at his whim, has never worked, and is a total moron. During the day he has two nannies taking care of his kids while his wife works. I miss a package delivery while I am at work, so the delivery company leaves a ticket stating that the package is with my neighbor. I head over, ticket in hand, to collect it.)

Neighbor: *answering the door* “Yeah?”

Me: “Hi, I wasn’t in to get a parcel; they left it at yours. Can I get it?” *shows the ticket*

Neighbor: *immediately confused* “Uh, sorry, no. The nanny deals with stuff like that. Come back when she’s back.”

Me: “I kind of need it; did the post not deliver my parcel here?”

Neighbor: “Why did they deliver your parcel here?”

Me: “I wasn’t in.”

Neighbor: “Why not?”

Me: *too shocked by his stupidity* “Look. My parcel was dropped off here; can you please check?”

(He looks around his feet and picks up the nearest parcel, hands it to me without a word, and shuts the door. The parcel is way too small to be what I am expecting. I check the address slip and it has the neighbor’s address and his wife’s name on it. I ring the bell again several times until he eventually answers again.)

Neighbor: “What now?”

Me: “There’s been some confusion; this is your wife’s parcel.”

Neighbor: “Well, what do you want with it, then?”

Me: “I don’t want it. I want mine. Can you please look?”

Neighbor: *taking the parcel back and looking around his feet* “Nothing here. Look. Can you please come back when the nanny is here? She deals with all the stuff like this.”

Me: “Well, can you check the front room or something for a box with this address on it?” *hands him the ticket* “Please?!”

(He disappears for a few seconds and comes back with a very large box and an equally confused expression on his face.)

Neighbor: “Huh. There’s this, but… it’s got the wrong address on it.”

Me: “Yes, that’s what I’m after.”

Neighbor: “Why was it delivered here? I’m not [bad pronunciation of My Name].”

Me: “That’s me! It’s what I’m here for.”

Neighbor: “How did you know it was here?”

Me: “Because the delivery company left a ticket. Can I please have it now?”

Neighbor: *handing it over* “But why didn’t they just deliver it to you?”

(I took the parcel and just rolled my eyes at the last question. I didn’t think leaving post with neighbors was that difficult a concept.)

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(I work for a marketing agency which promotes magazines, etc. I have a colleague who is very hot-headed and lacks judgment.)

Colleague: *on an outbound call* “WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING HI TO ME? YOU MUST HAVE SAID IT SEVEN TIMES! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?”

(Inevitably, a few seconds later I hear:)

Colleague: “WHAT ARE YOU SWEARING AT ME FOR?”

(And another few seconds:)

Colleague: “CALM DOWN; THERE’S NO NEED TO SWEAR!”

(I’m on vacation in London with a friend and we are using the tube. We are German, but as we both lived in Ireland for a while and love British movies and television, our English skills are pretty good. As we chat about our plans for the day in German, I notice two middle-aged ladies sitting opposite from us, looking at us rather annoyed. My friend chatters on about the museums we are visiting today, but I can’t help but listen to the conversation in the seats opposite from us.)

Lady #1: “…and you can’t even go on the tube anymore without hearing every kind of jibber-jabber language. Germans, I can hear that all right.”

Lady #2: “Did you hear how they are trying to make [some English name] bow to their will in Brussel? They know the EU will suffer from losing us.”

Lady #1: “I’m sure they are happy about it. Then they can go back to their old ways, heil Hitler and everything. Mark my words: it’s a Nazi Europe out there without us, and we are better off the earlier we can rid us of that.”

(My friend stops talking as she notices me intently listening and looking at them. They notice me, too, and are — correctly I might add — a bit embarrassed. Then [Lady #1] goes for the rescue.)

Lady #1: *very polite with big smile* “Hello, do you speak English?

Me: *nods* “A bit.”

Lady #1: *very cheery* “Are you here on holiday? I heard you speak German; I learned some in school, back in the day. So, guten Tag und gute Reise! Haha, that’s all I remember!”

(I breathe deeply and answer, with my very best British accent:)

Me: “Well, that’s marvelous and good for you. But I would advise you to keep the Nazi-talk and ‘heil Hitler’ out of any German conversation, if it’s not a critical historical discussion. It is even punishable by law to use ‘heil Hitler’ in public, even in jest. I hope you are able to visit Germany one day, but I am not sure how it will work with non-EU citizens in the future. I’m sure you will be able to figure something out, should it ever come to that.”

(They did not find any more words before getting off at the next stop, rather hurriedly. For the record: this was the most memorable thing for me, as I have never EVER had any other Brit be that impolite to me before or after that in my life. I really would love them to stay in the EU, if only so I can keep visiting without a visa or whatnot.)

(I am a duty manager at a five-hotel near Soho, helping at the bar and restaurant when needed. I see a table has finished their main course.)

Me: “How was your meal?”

Guest #1: “Excellent.”

Guest #2: “I didn’t like my dish.”

Me: “Aw, really sorry about that. What was wrong? Would you like something else?”

Guest #2: “It tasted too much of rice and mushrooms.”

Guest #1: “You should have thought of that before ordering the wild mushrooms risotto.”

Me: “Um… Dessert?”