When I graduated college with an accounting degree, I joined my father in his tax office. One tax season in the old paper file days, he prepared a return for a young couple, just the two of them with no dependents. A super simple tax return.

As I was coming back from lunch, I passed the couple, who had just picked up their return and were sitting in their car looking it over. For some reason, I thought something is up from the way they were talking about the returns. They followed me into the office as they were parked around the corner. My father came out of his office to see what they wanted.

Customer: “We feel you charged us too much for the return. It couldn’t have taken but five minutes to work it.”

My father’s fees were less than the local national office.

Father: “So, how much do you think it’s worth?”

Customer: “No more than half of what we already paid you.”

Father: “Okay. Let me take care of it.”

My father asked to see the package of federal, state, and client copies they had that they had paid for.

He took each copy out of the envelopes and laid them flat on the desk. Then, he peeled the tax return forms off of each return and laid them aside. He then tore up each copy of the returns!

Customer: “Those are our returns. We paid for them!”

My father handed her the check they had used to pay with.

Father: “They are mine now. Get out of my office and never come back. You will not dictate my fees and pretend to know how long it takes to prepare a tax return.”

He turned around and went back into his office. Way to go, Dad!

During high school, I had a part-time job at a grocery store. We had a lot of cashiers quit and desperately needed more cashiers. At the time, I was making $10.50 an hour. Our general manager made a promotion where any cashiers hired got paid $11.25 an hour. So, I went to talk to my manager.

Me: “Since you’re going to start paying new cashiers $11.25 an hour, can I have a raise to that amount?”

Manager: “No, that’s only for new hires.”

After about two weeks, I got fed up with being the only one who knew how to run the registers because I was really the only one with experience. I was training employees who were making more than me. I asked again to be on the same level as the people I was training and was turned down. I realized that the promotion ended in about a month, so I talked with my parents about my plan.

I waited until I knew that my manager was going to struggle because of people already asking for time off. I went in to my shift and talked to him.

Me: “I quit. Here’s my time card, here are my keys, and here is my vest.”

Manager: “Whoa, wait. Let’s talk about this.”

Me: “No.”

And I walked straight out.

I enjoyed the weekend off and hung out with friends more often than I normally did and didn’t work at all that week.

On Friday — a week and a day later — I went to the website and applied again. I was called in for an interview with my former manager. He seemed relieved and smug that I was coming back, but at the end of the interview, I asked:

Me: “Since I am a new hire, I get the new hire bonus pay, right? Also, [Coworker] gave me her referral code, so I get the referral bonus, as well, right?”

I could tell he was very unhappy, but I did end up getting both.

I missed three days of work but ended up making more from the referral bonus ($250) and got myself a $.75 raise.

I go to the local chain thrift store frequently to donate stuff. I usually just drop things off at the counter and never bother asking for the donation receipt they offer.

One day when I go in, there is a table near the entrance with paperback books on it, and the sign says, “Special: five books for $1.00”. I rummage through it but can only find four books that interest me. I take them up to the checkout desk, fully intending to pay $1.00 for only four books, even if she rings it up as 80 cents.

Cashier: “That’ll be $4.00.”

Me: *Pointing* “The sign on the table says they’re five for a dollar.”

She informs me, in a voice that a high school librarian would be proud of:

Cashier: “They’re a dollar each. You have to buy five to get the special price.”

So, I simply walk over to the table and select a book at random to add to the four already on the counter. I am holding a dollar bill, but she informs me:

Cashier: “It’ll be $1.06 because of the state tax.”

I’m now positive she is a retired high school librarian.

There is a penny jar next to her, but she doesn’t offer to pull six cents out for me.

I probably have six cents in my pocket or another dollar bill, but I don’t even check. I take a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet and hand it to her. She asks me, escalating to a world-class high school librarian voice:

Cashier: “Don’t you have anything smaller?”

Me: “No, ma’am.”

She gives me $18.94 back in change and then turns away from me, not even offering to put my purchase in one of the paper bags that are stacked behind her.

I immediately place the fifth book on the counter.

Me: “I’d like to donate this book. And can I get a donation receipt, please?”

She has no choice but to completely fill out the receipt for my donation and sign it. She values the donation at 20 cents, and I don’t bother to point out that the thrift shop values the books at $1.00. After she gives me the receipt:

Me: *Very nicely* “Could I have one of those paper bags to carry my books out, please?”

She gave me a withering look, so I just told her to have a nice day and walked out with the four paperbacks.

I work for a credit card company.

Caller: “How do I lower my balance?”

Me: “I can take a payment over the phone, or you can do so via our app or website.”

Caller: “Oh, I have to do that?”

Me: “Do what?”

Caller: “Pay?”

Me: “Yes, to lower your balance, you have to pay into your account.”

Caller: “Oh, I don’t want to do that. How do I do it without paying?”

It was a long and terrifying call.

Related:
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 113
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 112
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 111
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 110
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 109

I work at a small company delivering potable water to people who don’t have access to either city water or a private well. We deliver to the same customers pretty much every week. Some customers are great and go out of their way to make deliveries easier or at least make sure that they don’t make them any more difficult than they have to be. A few customers just don’t give a crap and expect us to make deliveries no matter what they do to make things inconvenient.

One customer made several changes to their property over the last couple of years that made making deliveries significantly more difficult. I spoke to my boss about them, and he laid out the conditions that would need to be met before he would consider dropping a paying customer.

The customer was literally just barely within the limits. And to their credit, they did keep up with their bills.

I dreaded seeing their name on the delivery list every other week. Then, they changed to wanting deliveries every week because their children were moving into the house, as well. After that, payments started being more sporadic. The checks we got changed from the name of the homeowner to their daughter. My boss only takes cash or checks, not credit cards, as he feels no compulsion to give any money to credit card companies or to increase prices and pass the cost on to the customer.

One day while I was in the office doing some end-of-day tasks, the phone rang. The caller ID said it was this problem customer. [Boss] answered, and I eavesdropped. It was the daughter; she wanted to start paying by credit card. [Boss] said no. Then, she decided to drop her “threat” to change companies.

There was such hope in my heart as I saw [Boss]’s face turn red. He hates bullies and being bullied. [Boss] immediately agreed that that would be best and hung up on her. He walked over to the delivery schedule calendar and crossed their name off of the list.

Two days later, I got called into the office to hear a message left by the daughter. She was begging us to make deliveries again while she apologized for everything. She had discovered that we were by far the cheapest option for them.

One of the things that made them frustrating to deliver to was not just the physical difficulty of the delivery, but they only had a 350-gallon holding tank. It was a lot of work and time to deliver such a small amount of water, and we have the lowest minimum delivery rate in town.

While all the companies around town are at about the same price per gallon, most other companies have an 800-gallon minimum delivery rate, while our minimum at the time was only 500 gallons.

[Boss] and I shared a chuckle over the call; I don’t believe he bothered with calling her back.