(I’ve been working with my district manager on a massive project to change the layout of my store. I’m about three months pregnant, suffering a serious case of “baby brain,” and I lovingly refer to the baby as “my alien,” as we don’t know its sex yet. It’s early in the morning, and my DM and I are texting back and forth. I have just made a mistake.)

District Manager: “You’re killing me. It’s too early for this.”

Me: “I know, I’m sorry. I should probably send myself home for stupidity.”

District Manager: “Nope. You actually have to work extra today.”

Me: “But… But… my alien might make me break the store!”

District Manager: “Exactly, then they’d have to remodel. Have a good day.”

(I’m a woman in my early twenties. An older man, probably around 70 or so, comes to my counter to buy a lottery ticket.)

Customer: “Is it a winner?”

Me: *flashing a huge smile* “I hope so!”

Customer: “Good. Because if it’s not I’m going to have to come back here and slap you.”

(I have no idea how to respond to this, so I ignore it and turn around to straighten the tickets and hope he’ll leave without saying anything else. Of course, I’m not that lucky.)

Customer: “Don’t worry. If I win, I’ll still come back, but I’ll give you a big old kiss. How’s that?”

(I told him I had to go check on something and walked away. I haven’t seen him since, and I’m glad, because I don’t know if getting slapped or kissed by him would have been worse!)

(I find my dad looking for a specific pan.)

Me: “You know, I’d really like to do a [Genealogy Website] search. It would be interesting.”

Dad: “Eight by four by two!”

(He immediately realizes what he’s said, and very slowly turns to face me. We stare at each other for a moment, then dissolve into giggles.)

Me: “You just blurted out exactly what you were thinking, didn’t you?”

Dad: “Yup.”

(I am working as a waitress during a slow night, and someone comes up and asks me if I was the one to bring out food to table #7. I tell them no, but I did take their order. When I get over there, there’s a woman sitting alone and sobbing profusely with a burger in front of her.)

Young Woman: “I- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Was I rude? I just don’t know what I did wrong!”

(I try to calm her down, but she refuses to stop crying. I go back to the kitchen and get her order slip back, thinking that she has just lost something she ordered. It turns out she is deathly allergic to onions, and the cook has messed up and put extra onions on her burger. Apparently the customer thinks we are trying to poison her for being rude. We get her a new burger with zero onions, and she calms down instantly.)

Young Woman: “But… you’re not still mad at me, right?”

(I have little tolerance for rude people, and although my work has a no-hang-up policy, I often hang up on people who are yelling at me. This phone call occurs after a long day, five minutes before the end of my shift and closing time.)

Customer: “I’m looking for an item.”

Me: “Well, we have lots of items, so you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Customer: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Do you know the name or serial number of the product you’re looking for?”

Customer: *getting huffy* “Well, you’re the employee; you tell me!”

Me: “I can’t possibly know what you’re looking for without you telling me anything about the item.”

Customer: *yelling* “How dare you? I’m the customer! You should know what I want!”

Me: “Ma’am, if you don’t lower your voice, I’m going to hang up on you.”

Customer: *still yelling* “You can’t hang up on me!”

(I hang up. The phone rings and I answer after a few rings.)

Me: “Thank y—”

Customer: *screaming* “How dare you!”

(I hang up again. The phone rings and I ignore it, but pick up quickly when it starts ringing again.)

Me: “Thank you for calling—”

Customer: *yelling again* “Now, you listen to me!”

Me: “No, you shut up and listen to me! You called and asked for an item, then got angry when I asked for specifics of said item! I’m not psychic and can’t read your mind. So, you’re either going to stop yelling at me and talk to me like a normal human being, or I’m going to keep hanging up on you. The choice is yours!”

(The woman screeches into the phone so I hang up.)

Coworker: “It’s amazing they haven’t fired you yet. But then again, who else would we give the irate ones to?”

(By then it was time to close, but the phone rang for the entire 45 minutes my coworkers and I were closing up shop.)

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Has No Hang-Ups About Hanging Up