Me: “911, what’s your emergency?”

Caller: “I need help! Hurry, hurry!” *hangs up*

(I try to call back but get no answer. Two officers are sent. This is what I am told happened: The officers are met at the door by the caller.)

Caller: “In the bathroom. Hurry! Hurry!”

(The officers go to the bathroom, but don’t see anything wrong.)

Officer: “What happened? Why do you need the police?”

Caller: “My toilet is plugged up. I need you to fix it.”

Officer: “We don’t fix toilets. You need a plumber. 911 is for emergencies only.”

Caller: “This is an emergency. I need to use the toilet now!”

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(A customer had trouble remembering his password for his email address.)

Me: “Sir, if you can just go to Google and type in [address], it will take you to the website to reset your password.”

*Long silence.*

Me: “Are you on the website, sir?”

Caller: “I think my nephew has been on here and deleted Google from the internet.”

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Swimmer: “Could you please close the doors? There’s a draft coming into the pool.”

Me: “Sure.”

(After closing the pool, a customer watching her child swim calls me over.)

Mother: “Could you please leave the doors open? I’m claustrophobic.”

Me: “Of course!”

(After opening the doors again, the swimmer talks to me.)

Swimmer: “Why are the doors open?”

Me: “A customer here is claustrophobic, and asked me to leave the doors open.”

Swimmer: *yelling angrily* “What’s more important, her claustrophobia, or my comfort?”

This story is part of the Entitled Customers roundup!

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(I am working behind the concession stand on Thanksgiving day.)

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “Can I buy some of that food over there?”

(They point to the employee’s Thanksgiving food we have to eat between shows.)

Me: “No, sir, I’m sorry. It’s not for sale.”

Customer: “Why not? That’s ridiculous.”

Me: “Our families brought us that food for Thanksgiving since we have to be here instead of celebrating with them. I can’t sell it to you.”

Customer: “You’re so selfish!”

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(I am making drinks and I notice a small mocha for Paul. We have a regular customer named Paul who always orders a small mocha, but at that moment I couldn’t remember whether or not he liked it with whipped cream.)

Me: *calling out* “Paul? Did you want whipped cream on your mocha?”

Customer: *not a regular* “Yes, I wanted whipped cream.”

(I realize that this might be a drink for a different customer also named Paul. I add the whipped cream and hand it off with a smile.)

Me: “Here you go, a small mocha with whipped cream. Have a nice day, Paul.”

Customer: “I ordered a large.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me remake that for you.”

(I make a new drink, figuring that one of my co-workers might have grabbed the wrong size in the rush.)

Me: “Here’s your large mocha with whipped cream. Sorry for the mix-up, Paul.”

Customer: “I ordered a pumpkin spice latte.”

(I start my third attempt at making a drink for this customer.)

Customer: “…and my name isn’t Paul.”

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