(The phone rings.)

Me: “Good morning, [Pharmacy]. This is [My Name] speaking.”

Customer: “I need to speak to the pharmacist.”

Me: “Sorry, the pharmacist is consulting at the moment. Maybe I can help you?”

Customer: “No. It’s super urgent. Only the pharmacist can answer this question.”

(Luckily, the pharmacist has just finished consulting.)

Me: “Oh! The pharmacist has just finished consulting. I will put you on.”

Pharmacist: “Hello? [Pharmacist] speaking.”

Customer: “What time do you guys close?”

(My husband and I own a four bedroom house — two up, two down. As my husband is disabled and uses a wheelchair or crutches to get around, we have converted the downstairs bedrooms and bathroom into one big suite, as he also works from home and uses the second bedroom as his office. Our long-term boarder — a guy in his late 20s — is moving out soon, so we post an ad on a popular free website advertising for someone working full time or studying to rent the second bedroom upstairs. They would be sharing the second bathroom and a small lounge room with our boarder until he moves. We have quite a few interesting people come to have a look, but this girl and her parents take the cake. The girl is eighteen and about to start university; her parents come along as they will be paying her rent. We chat for a bit, and they meet our boarder briefly before he leaves for work. Before I show them around the house, the mother asks to use the toilet, so I show her to the half bath we also have on the ground floor. A few minutes later, she comes back.)

Mother: “I saw the room. So big, and the en suite is brilliant. We’ll take it.”

Me: *confused as the ad had pictures of the medium-sized room and bathroom* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you must have looked at our room. The room available is upstairs.”

Mother: “Oh, no. We want the room down here. It’s perfect, with the extra room for her to study and a nice big bathroom.”

Husband: “Ma’am, that is our bedroom. If you’d like to see the available room, [My Name] will show you upstairs.”

Wife: “No. [Daughter] will be a guest in your home. We will not pay [extremely reasonable price for a fully-furnished room including all bills] for her to be stuck in a tiny room upstairs and share a bathroom with a junkie pedophile. The room down here is perfect.”

(Now I’m getting angry, as the ad clearly states that the room is upstairs, and that the top level will be shared with our boarder, who will actually be moving out to go to the police academy.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is obviously not going to work. Thank you for coming, and good luck finding something to suit your tastes.”

Mother: “What? We are guests here and are willing to pay good money for the room. Now, she will move in on [date]. And since you’ve upset us, we will not be paying the first two weeks’ rent or paying a bond.”

(I’m seeing red, so my husband steps in again.)

Husband: “Okay, that’s fine, but you are going to have to pay for a lift to be put in — as I can’t get up and down the stairs — a remodel of the bathroom to accommodate my wheelchair, and an extension to be built for my office, as I run my business from home. All up, I’d say $80,000 should cover it. If we get started tomorrow, it may be ready by [date].”

(The father, who has been silent the whole time, starts laughing while the mother is spluttering.)

Mother: “What?! No, she will be a guest in your home; you need to cater to what we want.”

Husband: “Ma’am, I think it’s time for you to leave.” *to the daughter* “Miss, good luck with university, and I hope you find suitable accommodation.”

(The mother grabs the daughter’s hand and drags her out, yelling that they’re guests and  that we should cater to what she wants, and leaving the father behind.)

Father: “I’m so sorry about her. Things like that are the reason we split up. I’m only here because of my daughter. Thank you for your time, and I sincerely apologize for my ex-wife’s behavior.”

(We did end up getting a student in, and it worked out brilliantly. The father, who was a CEO of a big company, even ended up hiring my husband to build and maintain the company’s new website. The young woman ended up finding accommodation in a flat with other students, and in the end, cut all ties with her psychotic mother.)

(I am going grocery shopping with my mum when she stops to pick up a watermelon. To my bemusement, she brings the melon up to her ear and starts hitting the side of it.)

Me: *staring at her* “Um…. what are you doing?”

Mum: “[Uncle] told me this trick with watermelons! You hit it, and you can tell by how it sounds whether or not it’s fresh.”

Me: “So, how is it supposed to sound if it’s fresh?”

Mum: “That’s the thing; I forgot! It either sounds hollow if it’s fresh, or hollow if it’s not. I forgot which one is which!” *continues picking up watermelons and hitting them*

Me: “Well, what’s the point of banging on them all if you don’t know what sound you’re looking for?

Mum: *pauses*

Me: *stares*

Mum: *resumes her assault on the watermelons*

(I’ve given up trying to understand the logic in this woman’s thought processes.)

I am a very experienced, expensive lawyer who has worked in the area of family law for over nineteen years. I am well known in my field, and have acted for people in expensive, protracted disputes.

I say this because the capacity of some clients to think that for “reasons” they know more about family law than I never ceases to amaze me.

My favourite was when a client was determined to take a course of action (involving the commencement of litigation rather than trying to resolve matters by way of a negotiation) which I had no doubt would cost him more in legal costs and result in a less favourable outcome.

Because I’m not an idiot, I advised him against his preferred course of action clearly, and confirmed my advice by way of letter, which he countersigned.

About a year later, the client had spent maybe $30,000.00 more in legal costs than he should have, and received the same, if not worse, outcome than would have occurred in a negotiated outcome.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, he was furious with me, although he knew that my advice had been clear and, because he’d countersigned the letter, he couldn’t deny receiving it.

I asked what on earth I had done wrong. His response will live with me until my dying day:

“YOU SHOULD HAVE WORKED HARDER TO CONVINCE ME.”

Sometimes… I just can’t.

Customer: “I need to get a repeat on my medication. I’ve ran out of the script so can you give me an owning? I’ve been here many times.”

Me: “Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem. Can you give me your name and the name of the medication you want owning?”

Customer: “My name is [Customer] and I don’t know what the medication is called.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Do you know what the medication is for?”

Customer; “No. Just look up the medication I’m on.”

Me: “You’re on a few different medications.”

Customer: “It’s a little white tablet.”

Me: “All but one of the five medications you are on are white. Box or bottle?”

Customer: “No idea. Just give me an owing.”

Me: “Sir, sorry, but without know what the medication is for or what it is called, I cannot give you an owing. But would you know what it is if I showed you the packages it comes in?.”

(I quickly grab a few bottles and boxes of medications that the customer is on, hoping it jogs his memory.)

Customer: “Nope. I don’t know which one it is. Just give me an owing. It’s a little white pill! You’re suppose to know what I want!”

Me: “Sir, as I said, a few of your medications you are on are small white pills., I’m sorry but I want to make sure I am giving you the right medication. Are you sure you don’t know what the medication is called or what it is used for?”

Customer: “You’re no help. You’re suppose to know what I want!”  *leaves the store*