(Back in the mid-90s, my father discovered the joys of collect calling. Sadly, he is also very impatient and easily distracted, leading to several people and companies receiving calls like this:)

Recording: “You have a collect call from… uuuugh…”

Recording: “You have a collect call from…” *Dad trying to quiet my baby sister* “Shhh… Quiet, baby.”

Recording: “You have a collect call from… I’m waiting for the beep; I don’t hear a beep!”

(Surprisingly, all these calls were somehow accepted.)

(I work in a call center that provides website hosting and technical support for several large companies. Our service also includes domain-based email hosting. We keep a password on file for each customer that they must give us if they want to make changes to their accounts, including server settings. I’m standing around shooting the breeze with one of my coworkers and one of the floor managers.)

Coworker: “If [Customer] calls from [Domain], tell him I’ve gone home.”

Floor Manager: “Is that the guy that keeps calling because his MX records keep getting changed back from Microsoft exchange?”

Coworker: “Yeah. Someone keeps going in and changing them back. It’s like the third time he’s called about it. Now the other guy has changed the password, and the first guy keeps calling in to try and verify that he’s the account holder.”

Me: “I think I remember that domain. Actually, I think I’m the one that changed it back from Microsoft exchange for the guy.”

Floor Manager: “Yeah, and then he called back wondering why his exchange stopped working, so I changed it back for him. I told him that this can’t happen on its own; somebody is going in and changing it back, so he needs to change the password. Then, not ten minutes after, the other guy called in wondering why his email stopped working and why he couldn’t get into his account.”

Me: “So, we’ve basically got two guys in a pissing match with each other for a company website mail exchange that they both think they should be managing, and neither of them knows who the other is?”

Floor Manager: “Yep.”

Me: “I love my job.”

(Also, the guy that got locked out of the site has told my coworker he’s going to sue him because he got into a car accident while on the phone with him.)

This story is part of our I Love My Job roundup!

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I had been watching a YouTube channel that deals with death and the funeral industry, and I pulled up a video on my cell to show a friend. The next morning, I went into a quiet coffee shop for breakfast. There were only two other customers, chatting quietly with the staff. I decided to do some reading while I ate and tried to open a browser with one hand while undoing my jacket with the other. Unfortunately, the video was still open on my browser and I managed to hit the play button. So, loudly, in this quiet coffee shop, these words boomed out from my phone: “Haven’t you ever just wanted to touch a corpse?”

The place went silent as I quickly muted my phone, and I got quite a few looks from the customers. I just kind of mumbled an apology, something along the lines of, “I don’t know how that video got there,” but I’m still pretty sure they thought I was a necrophiliac or something.

Over the winter break I went to see the new Star Wars movie with my brother and his fiancée. I was staying with our parents for the break, and my brother and his fiancée live thirty minutes from there so we decided to meet at a theater halfway between those locations. Neither of us had been to it before.

Ten minutes before the movie was to end, three people walked in and sat in a row in front of us. They all took out their cell phones and started checking texts and Facebook, and chatting with each other. It was incredibly distracting. I finally decided to stand up and get a manager to deal with them. On my way back into the theater I leaned over their seats and told them a manager was on the way. They all leapt up like they were on fire. When they turned to face me, I realized they were all in their late teens or early twenties and were wearing uniforms. They worked for the theater.

It turns out they were the cleaning crew. When we exited the theater, they were all standing by the door, looking down at their feet.

(I’m the front desk manager at a hotel. One night an irate caller gets put through to me.)

Me: “Good evening. This is [My Name] speaking. How can I assist you tonight?”

Customer: *in a very rude and condescending tone* “Well, I don’t know; do you think you can help me? I called here last night to reserve a room. I was offered an email confirmation and I’m still waiting for it, so… Yeah.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Let’s see if we can figure out why you haven’t gotten it yet. Can I have your name, please?”

Customer: *sighs* “Yes. My name, again, is [Customer]. I reserved my room for next Friday.”

Me: “Yes, I see that here. Let me just confirm your email address. Is it—” *I read out her email address and confirm the spelling*

Customer: “Yes, yes, yes, that’s my email address. Now, the problem isn’t with the address; it’s with you guys not doing your jobs. All I wanted was an email confirmation of my reservation. I waited all night for it and I never got anything. I’m checking my emails right now, and I don’t… Oh.”

(At this point I’m looking at the email in our sent messages, and I see that it was delivered within minutes of her making the reservation. Before I have a chance to say anything else, the customer speaks again.)

Customer: “Oh, wait. Um… Yeah. Okay. I see it; I have it. Okay, well, that’s all I needed, then. Thank you.” *click*

(I never did get an apology for how she spoke to me at the beginning of the call. When she did finally check in, she acted just as entitled and rude towards my front desk clerk as she had been to me on the phone, so I quickly introduced myself and asked if she’d had any more trouble printing her confirmation. She shut up quickly and was pretty quiet for the rest of her stay.)

Related:
Email Fail, Part 14
Email Fail, Part 13
Email Fail, Part 12