I work as the lunchtime cook at a popular pizza chain, and I’m cleaning up at the end of my shift when I get a call.

Me: “Thank you for calling. If I can get a phone number I can start your order.”

Caller: “No, I don’t. I want a pizza.”

Me: *A little confused* “Okay, and what can we get you?”

The customer starts talking to multiple people on the other end of the line, presumably to get the order situated. I’m doing my best to get their food punched into the POS, but the customer insists on changing toppings and sizes multiple times, all the while still talking over me on the phone and answering questions from the people with her.

Finally, we get to the end.

Me: “And will that be all for tonight?”

Caller: “What’s my price?”

Me: “Its $24.55, and we should have it ready in—”

Caller: “That’s incorrect and you will change it.”

Me: “Unfortunately, with the extra toppings you got on your pizzas, this is the correct price.”

I list off the toppings and their costs.

Caller: “I don’t understand what you’re saying! Who’s taking my call right now?”

Me: “Uh, [My Name]?”

Caller: “Uh-huh, and who’s cooking, then?”

Me: “That would also be me.”

Caller: “Oh, my God, you are so stupid! Never mind. I guess I’ll have to get good answers from people who aren’t incompetent. I hope you cook better than you speak!”

They hung up, leaving me confused. They later harassed the woman on the till the same way when they came to pick up their food, saying they’d never shop here again. They’re still regulars.

I answer the phone.

Me: “Hello, [Bookstore].”

Caller: “Yeah, do y’all sell steam radiators?”

Me: “I’m sorry. What?!”

Caller: “Steam radiators.”

Me: “No, sir, we’re a bookstore.”

Caller: “Do y’all know where I could find one?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. I don’t.”

Caller: “Oh. Well, can y’all order one for me?”

Me: “No. Again, sir, we’re a bookstore.”

Caller: “Aw, man. All right…” *Hangs up*

An elderly woman calls to inquire about an old dictionary.

Caller: “Its binding is falling apart and I wonder if you know anyone who deals with binding and rebinding.”

Me: “Unfortunately, there isn’t anyone left in the city that deals with that sort of stuff.”

Caller: “What can you do with the book?”

Me: “If the binding is coming off, there isn’t much we could do. Also, we don’t really take dictionaries any more as the Internet has made them obsolete.”

Caller: “Oh, well, I think that the Internet is just a fad.”

I work as a student janitor at my college. Most of my coworkers are international students. It’s the first day of fall break and new eight-week classes start the day we come back. A group of my Serbian coworkers are moving furniture from the classrooms to clean the floor.

A man wanders onto the floor and into the classroom. I’m outside in the hallway. The man says something incomprehensible.

Serbian #1: “Sorry, again?”

Man: “What?”

He repeats what he said, still indistinct. The Serbians start discussing in Serbian. 

Serbian #2: “No, we’re in the class.”

Man: “What did you say?”

Serbian #1: “What?”

Man: “What?”

Serbian #2: “Please leave. Go.”

A moment later, the man comes out to the hallway.

Me: “Excuse me, maybe I can help you? What can I help you with?”

Man: *In a thick southern drawl* “I have a class today in that room and the guys in there are moving furniture and not speaking English!”

Me: “Classes actually start on Monday, and that’s the cleaning crew.”

Man: “Whatever. They need to learn to speak English so they can communicate with us Americans. It’s not like I can speak Russian or Polish or whatever they’re speaking.”

I don’t bother to correct him and just send him out.

Serbian #1: “What was that man doing?”

Me: “Looking for his class. His days got mixed up.”

Serbian #1: “Oh, good. I’m glad you could help him. I don’t know what he was speaking but it definitely wasn’t English!”

I teach high school, and I am going through an unknown medical ailment for which I am undergoing a battery of tests. This happens over text, as I’m updating my principal as to what is going on.

Me: “I’ve just finished with my spinal tap. They said I can work, but I may end up with a debilitating headache, so would someone be able to cover my class if I need to go lay down for an hour? Or should I just take the day off?”

Boss: “It’s too hard to find a sub. If you need it, we will find someone to cover your class.”

A few hours later, I get a call from my doctor. I’m told to check myself into the ER based on the results of my spinal tap. I text the principal again.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t come in tomorrow after all. I’m currently at the hospital; my doctor told me to go to the ER immediately when he got the results of my spinal tap.”

Boss: “Seriously? You know how hard it is to find subs. You’ve put me in a very difficult spot here. When will you be back?”

Me: “I can’t tell you. I haven’t been told anything besides, ‘Check yourself into the ER,’ at this point. I’m guessing it’s going to be at least a couple of days.”

Boss: “I hope you know what a terrible inconvenience this is for us. You know we have a hard time getting subs, and especially at this late notice and without any information, it’s going to be difficult to cover your time off. You’ve already taken off a good portion of this year and now you’re taking off more time?”

I recently gave birth to my first child and took maternity leave. At this point, I’m sobbing, terrified of not knowing what’s medically wrong with me, and feeling terrible for having to take off because of my boss’s comments. It takes my husband an hour to calm me down.

For the record, I wound up in the hospital for nearly a week and went back to work with an IV still in my arm for continued treatment at home. I was not sad at all when I left after that year ended. And no, my boss never so much as asked me how I was doing at any point through the entire ordeal.