During the summer during the health crisis, I go for long walks or runs on a pedestrian trail near my home. One day, I hear a group of four twelve-or-so-year-old boys on bikes harassing a number of people on the trail. I mentally roll my eyes but try to ignore them until they decide to target me. Two of them pull their bikes sideways across the trail, blocking it.

Boy #1: “What’s the password?”

Me: “Move. Now.”

The boys begin moving before they’ve even thought; it’s obvious from their facial expressions a few moments later that they hadn’t made a conscious decision to obey, and now they want to save face.

Boy #2: “We just want to talk.”

Me: “No, you want to annoy people for fun. You’re bored. Find something better to do.”

Again, they start pedaling away before they even stop to think.

I’d never seen the kids before, but I am a teacher, though of college students. Voice of Command is a real thing. I may not be able to glare effectively while wearing a mask, but I can still issue instructions.

We sell a lot of furniture and other things for your home. We are selling an outdoor furniture set that had a chair missing so it is on sale. A coworker uses the walkie to ask why it is on sale, and after telling her a chair is missing from the set THREE times, I finally go over to help. I have to add that the people who shop at our store leave things all over the place and don’t pick up after themselves. I’m constantly picking up after people, so I do it without thinking about it.

Customer: “Why is this on sale?”

Me: “One of the chairs broke during shipment, so we marked down the set.”

Customer: “Well, it doesn’t say that!”

Me: “I understand, but it does say that it is a three-piece set, and as you can see, there are only two pieces here. I will write on the ticket to avoid further confusion. I’m sorry about that.”

Customer: “Okay, well, it doesn’t say that.”

I don’t know what else to say, so I apologize again. Let me add that this set is sitting on a platform and she took both pieces off and had them flipped over on the ground so she could inspect them. She is acting like she doesn’t want the set and I think the conversation is over. She steps back and seems like she is going to walk away, so I start to put the set back on the platform. 

Customer: “Um… can I not look at that anymore?! Is that not allowed?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I thought you were finished.”

The platform is an inch off the ground, so moving it back isn’t a huge deal and she can still look at it if I put it back.

Customer: *Sarcastic* “I’m sorry that was such a problem for you!”

Me: “…”

I just walked away. She didn’t buy it.

Me: “[Business], this is [My Name].”

Caller: “Uh, yeah… I got a call from—” *garbled*

Me: “I’m sorry, who did you say you got a call from?”

Caller: *Silence*

Me: *Five seconds later* “Who was that you had a call from?”

Caller: “Oh… uh… I had a call from this number here.”

Me: “Okay. May I ask your name and what this call is regarding?”

Caller: “I had a call from this number. I’m returning the call.”

Me: “Yes, I just need your name so I can find out who called you.”

Caller: “They called me.”

Me: “I know. There are several people here who could have called and the number would have shown up as the same for each of them. This is the front desk.”

Caller: “But they left a message saying to call them back. I’m calling them back.”

Me: “They didn’t leave a name?”

This is odd, because we’re taught phone etiquette, and part of that is to always leave your name and the reason for your call.

Caller: “No, they just said call back.”

Me: “Okay, do you have a family member who lives here? Have you applied for a job here?”

Caller: “I don’t know.”

Me: *Loses all hope* “Okay, let me see if I can find out who called you.”

I put him on hold and called around to see if anyone called… someone… about something. God, I hate Mondays.

I work as a concierge at an assisted living home where most of our residents have some form of dementia. Not all of them have it, though; some are here for other reasons, such as this woman who is here because she can’t properly administer her own medications or care for herself well due to physical medical issues. Her mind is fully intact. She is, however, quite self-entitled due to living a life of luxury in New York City as a concert pianist in her younger years.

Me: *Answering the phone* “[Home], this is [My Name], how can I—”

Resident: *Cuts me off* “I need to talk to the nurse! Now!”

Me: “Are you okay, [Resident]?”

Resident: “I’m fine. I need to talk to the nurse. Immediately.”

Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”

Resident: “No. The nurse. Now!”

Me: “I will tell [Nurse] that you would like to speak with her. Let me see if I can get her on the phone. Can I put you on hold for a moment?”

Resident: “Get her on the phone now.”

Me: “All right, [Resident]. Just a moment.”

I use the walkie and then the phone to try to get a hold of the nurse, who has more than seventy other patients to see to. The entire call, including me trying to get a hold of [Nurse], has taken less than four minutes. I go back to the resident, who is still on hold.

Resident: “Finally! [Nurse]? I’ve been waiting on hold for an hour. This is unacceptable!”

Me: “It’s still [My Name], [Resident]. I was unable to get [Nurse] for you, but I will text her and let her know you would like to speak with her.”

Resident: “I have been. On hold. For a d*** hour!“

I drop into the same voice of superiority that she’s been using, albeit quieter.

Me: “Actually, as of this moment, it’s been four minutes and forty-five seconds according to my call timer.”

The resident is quiet for a moment and then speaks contritely.

Resident: “Just have her speak with me as soon as possible, please.” *Hangs up*

This woman is a trial. But I’ve found that using the same tone of voice she uses gets through to her. For the record, the nurse was able to see her within fifteen minutes of this. And what was the super urgent problem she had? She wanted her doctor’s phone number — something I could have easily helped her with, had she only asked.

I’m about ten years old and have just fractured my arm in two places. The breaks are minor enough that they don’t hurt, so I am much calmer than my parents, who have brought me to the emergency room. My mother brings me in to see an ER doctor while my father parks the car. The doctor is about as calm as I am.

Doctor: “You just have two little fractures on either side of your wrist.”

Me: “Okay.”

Doctor: “And how did you break this again?”

Me: “I tripped over a tent string in the dark.”

Doctor: *To my mother* “She seems like a bookish kid.”

Mom: “Yeah. She is.”

Doctor: “I think she’ll be okay with just a splint.”

And I was. No bulky cast for me!