A client calls in:

Client: “I’d like an appointment”

Me: “Okay, what’s your name.”

Client: “I don’t have time for this s***!” *Click*

Me: “Wha…”

Phone rings again. It’s the same client.

Client: “I’m coming in to do my taxes”

Me: “Would you like an appointment?”

Client: “I don’t have time for this s***!” *Click*

Me: *Staring at the phone.* “…?”

Phone rings again:

Client: “I’m coming in right now!”

Me: “We’re fully booked, and everyone is busy.”

Client: “You’ve got time to talk on the phone, you’ve got time to do my taxes.”

Me: “I’m a receptionist. You don’t want me doing your taxes.”

Client: “I don’t have time for this s***!” *Click*

Phone rings again:

Client: “I’m outside your door, let me in.”

Me: *Looking out the glass door and giant windows that open into our parking lot.* “I don’t see you.”

Client: “I’m here! By the door! LET ME IN!”

I hear distant banging sound from the back door. With a sinking sensation, I pretend I can’t hear s*** coming from the back because I don’t want to deal with it.

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t see you. Are you sure you’re in the right place? We’ve got big windows out front. You might be at the back door?”

Client: “Google Maps took me here. Let me in!”

Me: “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

Client: “I don’t have time for this s***!” *Click*

I sighed, and walked to the back door, to see if it was the client shouting and banging against it. To my surprise and relief, the client wasn’t. The banging noise was coming from the garbage truck. The phone rings some more:

Client: “Why does Google Maps say you’re closed?!”

Me: “We’re not.” 

Client: “I don’t have time for this s***!” *Click*

I start pantomiming banging the phone against the desk to take out my frustrations and talking to myself while pretending I’m talking to the client: 

Me: “Why—” *bang* “—do you—” *bang* “—keep—” *bang* “—hanging up?!” *bang*

The manager comes out to check up on me and see what’s wrong. The phone rings yet again. Wordlessly I hand it to the tax pro.

Manager: “Yes?”

Pause.

Manager: “I see?”

Pause.

Manager: “I’m sorry you feel… he hung up on me.”

Me: “I’ve been dealing with this moron for about an hour and a half now, he keeps hanging up on me, and no one else is calling in. Can I please just direct the phone to the answering machine and go on early lunch?”

Manager: “Yeah. I guess.”

I left for lunch. When I got back and checked the answering machine, I had SEVEN MESSAGES that all consisted of “I don’t have time for this s***!” 

The client who had no time for ‘this s***’ never called back after that.

I work in an accountant’s office. A client called in today.

Client: “Hello. You called me this morning, and I was wondering what that was about?”

Me: “It was probably a call about making an appointment, since it’s tax season once more.”

Client: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you. I’m a little hard of hearing.”

This time, I speak a little more clearly and enunciate carefully.

Me: “It was probably a call about making an appointment, since it’s tax season once more.” 

Client: “What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Me: “Would you like to make an appointment?”

Client: “What?”

Me: “How can I help?”

Client: “I don’t understand.”

Me: “Okay,”

Client: “What?”

I stay absolutely silent and start getting ready to hang up on this client.

Client: “Anyway, the reason I called was to set up an appointment.”

Me: “Okay. When do you want the appointment?”

Client: “What?”

I’m quiet again, having realized that talking just makes him say, “What?” some more.

Client: “I’d like an appointment with the same person as last year. Is she still with you guys?”

Me: “Yes, she is.”

Client: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.”

I’m thinking, “So, why are you asking questions if you can’t understand the answers?!”

Client: “What days are available?”

I list the days.

Client: “Can you repeat that?”

I list the days again.

Client: “Can you repeat that?”

I list the days again.

Client: “Can you repeat that?”

I list the days again.

Client: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

I just wait again.

Client: “Do you have any openings on Saturday?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: “I said do you have any openings on Saturday?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: “Is it possible that you have any openings on Saturday?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: “I can’t understand you. Is it possible that I could come in at 2:00 pm on Saturday?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: “What?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: “Please repeat that?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: “Look, I’m going to come in at 2:00 pm on Saturday whether you have openings or not. Keep a slot open for me. Is there some way I can complain to management? You’ve been useless”

Me: “I’m going to transfer you to management now.”

Client: “I already said I can’t understand you!” *Click*

I’m doing taxes for a client, and she has a child sitting on her lap. Every so often when she or I say something, the child will perk up and repeat the last few words of the sentence. I think this is precious, so I tend to giggle when this happens.

Me: “I hope you’ve been having a good year so far?”

Client: “So far, yes.”

Child: “So far!”

Me: “Have any plans for the weekend?”

Client: “We’re going to see grandma.”

Child: “GRANDMA!”

Then, something even funnier happens.

Me: “What was the insurance on your rental property?”

The client gives me the “one moment” finger and starts looking in her records.

The child scrunches up her face. 

Child: “Insew… Inser… Inure…”

She sticks her tongue out and then tries again.

Child: “Poper… Porper… I don’t know how to say that!“

I couldn’t help it; the look of affront on her face was too much for me. I burst out laughing. So did her mom.

“The Truly Awful Stand Out” reminded me of a story from a few years ago.

My new husband and I were finally getting back to the hotel after a day of celebrating with our friends and family.

One lady, probably from out of town, could not mind her own business seeing two men in tuxedos entering a honeymoon suite. She was in heavy makeup and a dress that made it apparent that her night was just getting started.

Lady: “You [homophobic slur]s?”

Without missing a beat, my husband piped up.

Husband: “We’re flattered, but whatever you’re packing’s gonna have to wait; we’ve got each other all to ourselves tonight. But if you’re performing at [Gay Club with drag shows], we’d love to see your act. Can we hook up there tomorrow night?”

The lady went chalk-white in horror and could not have run faster.

In the checkout line the next morning, the lady had no makeup or ponytail, a massive neckline that showed off her cleavage, and an exaggerated walk-sashay that tried way too hard to be feminine.

Related:
The Truly Awful Stand Out

I work in an office that used to be a cell phone repair place on [Street]. Even though it’s been seven years since the cell phone repair place has been in business, we still get clients walking through the door asking if we fix phones. We do not. We’re accountants.

One day, I’m working in a different office for the same company that has never been a cell phone repair place; it’s always been an accountant’s office. A young woman walks in through the door and asks if we fix cell phones.

Me: “Uh… No. We don’t. This has always been an accountant’s office.”

Woman: “Oh, I got confused. You look like one of the employees of the cell phone repair place on [Street], and the inside looks similar.”

Me: “…”

I sent her gently on her way. There’s not even a cell phone repair place anywhere in this strip mall.