(I work for a warehouse that delivers car parts to repair shops around town. Shortly after my lunch break, I am asked by my manager to make a delivery to a customer that is known for ordering wrong parts, and for treating our employees poorly.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name]. Can you pull these parts and take them to [Customer]?”

Me: “Yeah, no problem.”

(I pull the two parts off of the shelf and drive down the street to deliver them at the customer’s repair shop.)

Me: “Hello. How are you doing today?”

Customer: *looks at me angrily but gives no response*

Me: “Where would you like me to put these parts?”

Customer: “Put them by the d*** truck they were ordered for!”

Me: “No problem. Could you please sign for the parts? Then, I will be on my way.”

(The customer signs for the parts, and I go back to the warehouse.)

Manager: “[My Name], I need you to take this order to [Customer], ASAP.”

Me: “I just took those parts there five minutes ago.”

Manager: “I know you did, but the wrong parts were in the boxes.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll take the correct parts there now.”

(I pull the parts off of the shelf and double check that the correct parts are in the boxes before driving to [Customer].)

Me: “Hello. Here are the correct parts. I am sorry that I brought the wrong ones the first time.”

(The customer opens the box and puts the cracked part off of the truck next to it. It is clearly twice the size of the new part.)

Customer: “Does that look like the right f****** part to you?”

Me: “No, sir, it does not; however, that is the part that you ordered. The number on the box and the part match the order slip. Maybe the wrong part was ordered?”

Customer: “I didn’t order the wrong f****** part; you just don’t know how to read numbers.” *snatches order slip from my hand and compares it to the box and part*

Me: *tired of getting yelled at for doing my job correctly* “You can look at it all you want; the numbers match. Those are the correct parts you have ordered twice now. If you would like me to take them back as returns, I can.”

Customer: “Take your d*** parts. I didn’t f*** up anything. I’m going to call [Manager] and tell him how poorly you have treated a customer.”

(I get in my car and call [Manager] to tell him what happened, and that he should expect a call from [Customer] very soon. When I get back to the warehouse:)

Me: “So, [Manager], what did [Customer] have to say about me?”

Manager: “They said you are the worst employee we have and to never send you there again. After talking with them, we came to the conclusion that we do not carry the part they wanted and they ordered wrong twice.”

(Right then another order comes off the printer to go to [Customer].)

Manager: “Here you go, [My Name]. Make sure to have a nice s***-eating grin when you walk in.”

(As an undergrad, I work for my university’s IT department as a lab tech. Each student at this university is given a unique account to log in to lab computers with. One of the computer labs I am monitoring has a beginner’s programming class in it, and the professor summons me to help a student who cannot access a necessary file.)

Professor: “I set up the drive through the network. Each student enrolled in the class should be able to access it. Everyone else can; I’m not sure why [Student] can’t.”

Me: “Can you walk me through how it is supposed to be accessed?”

([Professor] demonstrates on another student’s working account. I attempt the same steps on [Student]’s computer and find no file, nor even access to the drive. I go through multiple troubleshooting steps until finally…)

Me: *speaking quietly* “Hmm. There are some files here from [Different Professor], so I’m not sure why [Professor]’s files aren’t showing up. [Student], what class are you taking with [different Professor]?”

Student: “Oh, I’m not. But I think my roommate is. I don’t know which class, though.”

Me: “Why would your roommate’s class files be on your account?”

Student: “Oh, it isn’t mine. This is my roommate’s account.”

Me: *spotting the problem* “Ah. You have to use your own account to access files that have been granted to you through the network. Your roommate isn’t in this class, and so can’t be granted access to these files. You will need to log in to your account. And just as a warning, you really shouldn’t be using anyone’s account but your own.”

Student: “I can’t.”

Me: *thinking this is a “forgotten password” case* “Why can’t you log in? I can probably help.”

Student: “Uh, well… Mine got taken away.”

Me: “I see. How long ago?”

Student: “Well, it was in my first month of freshman year, so about two and a half years ago.” *looking guilty* “I was just downloading music, I swear!”

Me: *stunned* “You… you know you can get your account reactivated after 30 days, right?”

Student: “Oh, I know. I just didn’t think I needed to, since my roommate lets me use this one.”

Me: “For two and a half years? You know your roommate’s account can be taken away for this, right?”

Student: *eyes going wide* “No.”

Me: “Right. Okay. So, to get your account back, you’ll need to go to the IT Department in [Building] and ask for [Student Accounts Director].”

Student: “Okay. I’ll go just as soon as class is over.”

Professor: “No, you will go now. You cannot participate in class if you cannot access these files.”

Student: *leaves in a hurry*

(I work in a popular party store, and we sell balloons. We sell them by the package, and individually if you would like to have them inflated. I am working the front counter when a customer walks out from the aisle.)

Customer: “Are these balloons helium free?” *proceeds to hold up a package of latex balloons that were not inflated*

Me: “Yes, they are.”

Customer: “How can you tell?”

(I work at the front desk of an assisted living home. One of my main jobs is to answer the phone. I live for callers like these.)

Me: “[Business], [My Name]. How may I help you today?”

Caller: “This is Windows Technical Support, ma’am. I am showing a virus on your computer.”

Me: “Oh, really?”

Caller: “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to need some information from you so that I can remove it.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Caller: “Ma’am, this is a very serious matter. I need your cooperation.”

Me: “No, you really don’t.”

Caller: “Ma’am, please. I am from Windows—”

Me: “No, you’re not.”

Caller: “Yes, ma’am. I am from Windows Technical Support and–”

Me: “Seriously? Still? Does anyone fall for this anymore?”

Caller: “You don’t understand, ma’am. I need your help to remove–“

Me: “Oh, come on. You know I know what’s up. I know this is a scam.”

Caller: “This is no scam. Listen to me. I need you to listen–“

Me: “This is a scam. Come on. Can’t you guys come up with something new?”

Caller: *getting pretty angry at this point, which I’m thrilled with, as I usually don’t get to mess with them this long* “Ma’am! Stop cutting me off! I need your cooperation, now! This is a very serious matter!”

Me: “Yes, I agree. Scams are a very serious matter. I’ll be forwarding your number on to the appropriate people.”

Caller: “No! You don’t listen! Your Windows computer—”

Me: “My Windows computer? I’m running a Mac.”

Caller: “Well, does anyone else in your household have a Windows computer?”

(She sounds completely frustrated right now, and I’m trying not to laugh.)

Me: “Well, yes, my mother has a PC. But I’m at work right now. Why are you calling me at work?”

Caller: *sounds of total exasperation* “This is a business?!”

Me: “Yes. It’s the business I answered with in the beginning.” *rolls eyes*

Caller: “Well, why didn’t you tell me?! You are wasting my time!”

Me: *puts on super cheery voice* “I sure am! Wasting scammers’ time is the best part of my day!”

Caller: *more sounds of exasperation followed by a dial tone*

(For the record, I’m not really on a Mac. I can’t believe this call went on for so long. Kind of made my day.)

(My dad is a terrible driver. He’s constantly speeding, texting and driving, and swerving all over the road. Heck, I even caught him BOOKING A FLIGHT on his phone while he was driving once! One day, he gets pulled over out of state, and immediately contacts his lawyer. My sister happens to work for his lawyer, and she relays this conversation between them to me.)

Dad: “You’re not going to believe this, but I just got a speeding ticket.”

Lawyer: “Actually, [Dad], I can believe that.”