(I work as a receptionist in Melbourne for a company with multiple branches, one of which subcontracts to a [Nationwide Telecommunications Company] upgrade which is rather unpopular, meaning I’ve dealt with a fair few disgruntled callers, but this one really takes the cake. An upset woman calls up demanding to speak to a manager of our telecommunications branch, demanding that a piece of equipment just outside her home be replaced or upgraded because it’s not been done properly. Our staff have spray-painted a big cross on it as we can’t proceed with the upgrade due to the equipment being unsuitable or damaged. Unfortunately, we have no control over the equipment, as it’s previously installed by [Telecommunications Distributor] and is outside of our scope of work and is the property of [Distributor], but the woman is refusing to listen to me and demanding to speak to a manager. Technically speaking, she is not our customer, as our customer is [Distributor] and not the end user.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but the best thing I can do for you is forward you to the [Distributor] faults line to handle…”

Woman: *snappily* “Well, I’m not even their customer; I’m the customer of [Telecommunications Provider], so I want to talk to your mob, instead.”

Me: “Hang on. Have you spoken to [Provider] about your concerns about this yet?”

Woman: “No, but your mob are in the area doing work on the equipment, so you can repair and replace it while you’re there. My concern is that your mob won’t do the work which means I’ll be unable to use phones and Internet when [Nationwide Telecommunications] upgrade is complete, meaning I’ll be left without Internet or phone lines.”

Me: “Well, technically, that’s not accurate, since wireless options exist, as well. Anyway, we still aren’t involved and you’ll need to speak with—”

Woman: *cutting me off* “Well, don’t take this personally, but I feel like your mob just aren’t going to do the work because it’s in the ‘too hard’ basket, and then you’ll be gone, and I’ll be stuck!”

Me: “I understand, but—”

Woman: “So, let me speak to a manager already!”

Me: *sighing inwardly* “Again, unfortunately, our customer is [Distributor], meaning you’d need to speak with them about any issues you may have. We have no control over what may exist or not; we’re just in the area doing upgrades.”

Woman: “In that case, I want to talk to your manager as your staff have defaced my property!”

(I’m a bit perplexed; our staff are trained to not do any sort of damage to private property. It’s also important to note here that in Australia, anything past a dwelling’s driveway, such as the pavement and the nature strip, belong to the local council, and not the individual homeowner.)

Me: “Hang on. I thought you said that the markings were on the pavement.”

Woman: “Yes! It’s on the pavement and the equipment; they’ve defaced my nature strip!”

Me: *deadpan voice* “Technically, that doesn’t belong to you. That belongs to the council.”

(Pause.)

Woman: “You know an awful lot for a receptionist. Fine, I’ll call the council, and call [Distributor] and the ombudsman to sort this out!”

Me: “That’s fine. You have a nice day, then.”

(I hung up the phone on her at that point. I honestly don’t know what she expected the company I work for to do, especially when I kept telling her she had to contact [Distributor] to sort it out, as we had no control over it!)

(I am an assistant store manager at an auto retail store. I have worked for the company for eleven years, four of them in management; I am also female. Our parts guide won’t give you the parts unless you pick the car out, down to the specifics.)

Me: “[Store], [Location]. This is [My Name] speaking.”

Customer: “Hi. I’m after a cabin filter.”

Me: “Yeah, no problems. What’s it for?”

Customer: “A cabin filter.”

Me: “Yes, what’s it for?”

Customer: “A cabin filter.”

Me: “Yes, a cabin filter. What car is it for?”

Customer: “Oh, sorry. A 2008 Mitsubishi Lancer.”

Me: “No worries. Is that the 2-litre or the 2.4?”

Customer: “A cabin filter. Not a regular air filter.”

Me: “Yes, mate, I’m well aware of what a cabin filter is. I need to know what car it’s for so I can tell you if we have it.”

Customer: “Oh, ah… 2.4.”

Me: “No worries. It’s [price], and I have three in stock.”

Customer: *click*

(The store manager looks over at me and raises an eyebrow.)

Me: “Guess he couldn’t hear me over my ovaries.”

(My six-year-old son is reading a book about “boys who dare to be different.” He is going to take it to school for share time, so we’re looking for one of the stories he can explain to his classmates.)

Son: “I want to talk about this one!”

Me: “Oh, that’s Hans Scholl [WWII resistance fighter]. I don’t think your class is ready for learning about Nazis.”

Son: *excitedly* “But I like Nazis!”

Me: “Nooooo, we don’t like Nazis…”

Son: “No, I really like the Nazis!”

(I explained that Hans Scholl was fighting against the Nazis and gave him a brief rundown on why we really, really don’t like the Nazis.)

Customer: “Hi. I’d like you to print this photo I took on holiday in Italy on glossy paper.”

Me: “Not a problem. That will be $5 and you can pick it up this afternoon.”

(The customer comes back later on.)

Customer: “NO! THAT JUST WON’T DO! IT DOESN’T LOOK ANYTHING LIKE THE ORIGINAL!”

Me: “I’m not following. Like what original?”

(The customer hands me an old, faded photo taken in the 80s when he was on holiday there thirty years ago.)

Me: “Well, it’s the same framing. I’m unsure of what you want.”

Customer: “It looks too new and shiny and bright!”

Me: “Well, unfortunately, there isn’t a ‘faded, bad-quality 80s photo’ button on our machine. I’m sorry. We can photoshop it for you to look old, but that will cost more.”

Customer: “I don’t have that kind of money to pay you!”

Me: “Maybe leave the photo out in the sun for a few years?”

(Yes, that’s right; the customer was complaining because our machine printed his file too well.)

(I’m on holiday and stop at a popular fast food restaurant for lunch. The dining room is pretty busy but I find a free table in an area with only a man and his five-year-old son. I sit down to eat as they get up to leave, but the father leaves his wallet behind. The wallet is clearly visible outside through the windows. I figure if they don’t come back I’ll hand it to staff when I leave. After a couple of minutes, they come back.)

Man: *picking up his wallet and looking inside* “You b****, you stole my money.”

Me: “Excuse me? I haven’t touched your wallet.”

Man: “Don’t lie, you little s***. I had $100 in here. Now it’s gone. Give me my money back.”

(His son pipes up.)

Son: “But Dad, you said I could only have some chips because you don’t have any money.”

Man: “Quiet, [Son]. Listen here, you b****. Give me my money back before I take it back.”

(By this point, a staff member has come to see what all the fuss is about. This employee has been cleaning tables outside the whole time the wallet was left on the table.)

Employee: “Sir, your wallet hasn’t been touched. I could see it the whole time. You need to leave.”

Man: “Listen here. Someone stole my money and I want it back.”

(He goes to grab my handbag when another customer steps in and restrains him, pulling him away.)

Customer: “[Man], you’ve been warned not to pull this stunt again.” *lets the man go* “Now, get out of here before you’re locked up.”

(The man ran out, leaving his son behind, who was now crying. It turned out the man had tried this in a few places and the other customer was a local off-duty cop. The cop called the station to get the boy’s mum’s information. I stayed with the boy until she came to get him. The staff got the boy a kids’ meal and threw in some extra toys. It turns out the father was a drug addict but the courts had given him access visits with the boy.)