When I am in college, I eventually move from the dorms to my own apartment. About six months into the year, the fire alarm over the wall AC unit starts chirping. (I have two fire alarms: one in the kitchen and one in the bedroom over the wall AC unit.)

I email the landlord. He says to replace the batteries, so I do.

It keeps chirping. I email the landlord again.

Me: “I’ve replaced the batteries, but it’s still chirping. Can I get maintenance over here?”

He doesn’t reply, initially, and I wind up sleeping in the IMU (The Iowa Memorial Union) because the chirping is too loud for me to sleep through.

The next day, the landlord replies:

Landlord: “I’m not your dad. Figure it out yourself.”

I shrug and take the batteries out entirely. It continues to chirp. I go online and look for solutions. The recommended solution is to replace the fire alarm.

I go to the hardware store, pick out a fire alarm, and take the current one off of the wall. It’s wired into the electrical system. I’m not an electrician, and that’s a bridge too far for me.

I email the landlord with my findings and request a maintenance person to fix the fire alarm.

Landlord: “Just take the batteries out.”

Me: “No, I already tried that, and it didn’t work.”

Landlord: “Leave it. I’ll deal with it during break.”

Me: “That’s months away, and I literally cannot sleep in the room with it.”

Landlord: “Just solve it yourself. I don’t care how.”

So, I called the fire marshall. They sent someone over to do an inspection and said that it was, indeed, not livable and that the fire alarm unit was expired. I also showed them my email chain.

A couple of days later, a maintenance guy came by and replaced the fire alarm.

The landlord was all, “You didn’t have to get the fire marshall involved,” and, “Just so you know, I’m going to take your deposit for this,” and, “Couldn’t we have worked this out like adults?”

We did work it out like adults. And part of working it out like adults is going to the authorities when necessary.

I live in a small northern town and have hired an electrician to do some work. We get to chatting and he tells me of a recent call from a woman.

Customer: “I want to know when you’re going to come by and clean out my baseboard heaters! They’re all dusty and cobwebby.”

Electrician: “That’s not something I do. That’s just a regular part of house cleaning.”

Customer: *Getting very upset, yelling* “You’re the one who installed them, so you’re the one responsible for keeping them clean! I know my rights!”

Fortunately, he had no shortage of work, so he hung up on her mid-rant and blocked the number.

I work for a company that sends out handymen, plumbers, and the like for people who have a contract with us. I get a call from one of our plumbers.

Plumber: “I’m here with [Client], and she wants a different type of water tap. I have one with me and can do that right away. Can you give me a digital order? I told her it will cost [amount], and I checked her ID. She’s okay with it.”

Me: “Of course I can help with that. May I please talk to her, as well? Then we’ll have her okay on recording.”

The plumber hands over the phone and I check the client’s identity with our security questions. I tell her that if she wants that other water tap, it will cost [amount] and she will receive a bill in a few weeks. I also tell her she needs to sign for the okay.

She gives permission, and the plumber goes to work. The digital order appears on his pad and the sweet old lady signs.

A few weeks later, after the bill is sent, the client calls about it.

Client: “I don’t know why I was billed; I have a contract with you guys! Unbelievable, taking advantage of a weak old lady like me!”

Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that. Let me check. I see it’s about that different water tap you wanted.”

Client: “Well, yes, but I wasn’t informed that it would cost me any money! I wouldn’t have done it if it would!”

Me: “I see here you gave permission over the phone and signed the order, as well.”

I never say people talked to me because if people want to lie, they tend to do that more quickly when they think they are not talking to the same person. Also, I think it’s fun to call them out when that happens. But this sweet old lady couldn’t lie, right? Just a bit scatterbrained, I bet. 

Client: “What? Was that what that was about? Oh, that person on the phone didn’t mention any costs! She held that information from me!”

Me: “I’m pretty sure I did mention the costs, ma’am.” *Silence* “The plumber mentioned the price and I repeated that. I also said you had to sign for it.”

Client: “I never signed!”

Me: “I have your signature right here.”

Client: “That’s not mine!”

Me: “I have your contract with us and the signature is pretty similar. Do I need to ask my manager to listen back to the recording?”

Client: “Well… I… I mean… I hope you sleep well at night, ripping old ladies off!”

She hung up. Of course, there is a possibility she has more going on and might need help, so I made sure I made a note in her file. We cannot act on one incident, but if it happens again, we can contact the right authorities to check up on her.

Our subdivision provides water to residents via several wells. During a cold snap in Texas, our subdivision lost water pressure late one night, so I called the provider/contractor to ask them if they could fix the problem. Apparently, I reached an answering service rather than the provider/contractor, since it was after regular working hours.

I dialed the phone and waited a long time for somebody to answer. Finally, I got a recorded message and music. Lots of music. Terrible selection. More music…

Eventually, somebody answered.

Me: “I am in [Subdivision], and we have no water pressure. Can you get somebody out here to check the pumps?”

Service: “Where are you?”

Me: “[Subdivision], [zip code], near [City, State].”

Service: “We have no outage for that area.”

Me: “We are a subdivision of [number] residents. Has nobody called you with the same complaint?”

Service: “Yes, we have several calls from that area.”

Me: “Is that enough to report an outage?”

Service: “Wait a moment.”

About five or ten minutes of agonizing music…

Service: “The technician says it is frozen pipes.”

Me: “Last year, we had temperatures of four degrees Fahrenheit for a day and a half, and the pipes did not freeze. The outside temperature is now twenty degrees Fahrenheit, and it has been at that temperature for only a few hours. I really doubt the underground pipes froze that quickly. The technician is located seventy-five miles from here, in a completely different area, so they cannot state that our pipes are frozen. Can you get somebody out here to check?”

Service: “The technician says the pipes are frozen, and there is no need to go there. There is no reported water outage.” *Click*

I called several neighbors. They all had the same problem and had already called or promised to call the water company.

Twelve or more hours later, the tech arrived to investigate the problem. It was NOT frozen pipes. Apparently, a circuit breaker tripped at the pump station. Meanwhile, external water bibs that were left “on drip” froze, since there was no pressure to let them drip, and the water stagnated in the bibs. And, during the outage, we had no drinking, shower, or “flush” water.

During the outage, I volunteered to let people use my drippy nose as a substitute for their drippy faucets, but nobody took me up on that offer.

I work as a cake decorator. Our grocery store bakery has two dish sinks: one by the bakers’ work area and one by the front where I do my thing. This front sink is the focus. One of the handles breaks, essentially making it impossible to turn off the water without using the under-sink shut-off valve, so a guy from the maintenance company is sent.

Maintenance Man: “Wow. It’s so quiet. I’m used to people chatting in places like these.”

Coworker: “Eh. We talk sometimes.”

Me: “Kinda depends on who’s on shift. If [Coworker #2] and [Coworker #3] are on shift, they talk about all kinds of things.”

We have a bit of a laugh, people continue with their work, and he starts on the sink.

At one point, I ask [Maintenance Man] about whether part of the sink design is on purpose or a flaw, thinking, “Hey, he likes socializing, and I’m actually curious.” He seems happy to explain. 

We don’t talk much after that, though part of the time he’s on the phone with his company talking about parts anyway.

Throughout this, [Maintenance Man] has a bit of a dry, not sick, cough that seems to be getting a little worse. I sympathize; I always bring a water bottle with me to work because my throat gets dry a lot.

I offer to get him a water bottle — easy enough as we are literally in a grocery store. He accepts, so I take a minute to grab one off the shelf and have a coworker ring me up for it. [Maintenance Man] ends up downing half of it in one go, so I’m thinking he needed it and feeling glad I offered.

Back to the cake decorating. It’s a fun process, but it is never a completely clean one — less so when making high quantities. Frosting spreads, tools get messy, and piping bags need washing or replacing. So, as part of my process, I have a damp and dry washcloth duo to clean as I go. As such, despite not being able to use my usual sink for cleaning, my workstation is still fairly close to how it would be on any other day, which my direct supervisor has privately commented on being cleaner than BOTH of the other cake decorators’ stations.

I don’t know if [Maintenance Man] thinks I’m not paying attention or has just forgotten that the sink is literally five feet away from my workstation, but sometime later when another coworker passes by, he says to them:

Maintenance Man: “She’s kind of messy, huh?”

I’m a little shocked. 

Me: “Well, maybe if I had a working sink…?”

Likely he was just trying to be social, but REALLY? There are topics that are much less rude. Kindness certainly isn’t transactional, but I don’t think I would have felt as hurt in the moment if I hadn’t gone out of my way first.