(I work in a music school that, among other things, offers classes for babies and toddlers. I get this phone call today.) 

Customer: “Hi. I had a question about registering my grandson for your baby class. I have a coupon from your ad, but can I use that if I register online?”

Me: “Sure, there will be a part in the online form to put your coupon information from the ad.”

Customer: “Oh, great! I’m so excited to get him started! He’s always wiggling and moving around when he hears music. His mother and I never moved like that. It must be from his father; he’s one-quarter black.”

Me: *speechless*

(Most beaches in New Jersey require a badge for access, so it is my job as a badge checker to sell daily, weekly, and seasonal badges to the general public. Most people who come to the beach know this and are ready to pay; some are not. My coworker and friend borrows my bike to grab lunch on her break, and she is returning the bike so she witnesses this transpire. I am a nineteen-year-old female.)

Me: *to a surfer trying to pass my box* “Excuse me, sir. Do you have a badge?”

Surfer: “Badge?”

Me: “Yes, a badge. Here in [Town], we require that all people who want to use the beach must have a badge. It is $10 for the day.”

Surfer: “[State Park] is closed today so why do I have to pay that amount? Can I get a discount?”

Me: “No, sir, sorry, but we’re not affiliated with [State Park]. We have our own rates that we must use. If you go to [Next Town Over], their rate is only $8.

Surfer: “This is bulls***! I have to pay if I just use the water?”

Me: “Unless you can jump from here to the waterline, then you’re going to have to pay.”

Surfer: “Why?”

Me: *prepared because I hear this every single day* “Well, [Town] owns the beach, so therefore you using the beach without paying is considered trespassing.”

Surfer: “They don’t own the beach.”

Me: “…?”

Surfer: “When Sandy happened the waterline came all the way up to the houses; therefore, the town doesn’t own it.”

Me: “Ah, I don’t think that’s right, but okay… It’s $10, sir.”

Surfer: “You take your job way too seriously.”

(Literally, my job is checking and selling badges; that is the entire job.)

Me: “Okay, sir, $10.”

Surfer: “Do you get commission for being a jerk?” *penny boards away*

Friend: “What the f***?”

Me: “I wish we got commission.”

(I work at a medieval-themed dinner and show. Besides eating, guests have the option of going to the gift shop, sword shop, or bar. As well as these, we offer knighting ceremonies where you can have someone knighted or inducted as a Lady of the Realm. A guest’s husband missed his name being called and his wife is rather upset.)

Guest: “You there. Come here.”

Me: “Yes, m’lady—” *as we are encouraged to call guest Lord or Lady* “—how can I help you?”

Guest: “My husband missed his calling for his knighting and I demand you recall him!”

Me: “Miss, they are doing another ceremony at this time; your husband will be recalled as soon as they reach the end.”

Guest: “THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! HE WENT OUT TO THE CAR TO GET MY ID FOR THE BAR! I’M 48 AND HE IS 53! THERE SHOULD BE SIGNS SAYING YOU NEED ID!”

Me: “Miss, there are signs located all over the bar saying you need ID for a drink. I’m not even 21 and I know you need your ID wherever you go that serves alcohol.”

(At this point, her husband has returned and is now standing away from his wife looking as if he wishes he could disappear.) 

Guest: “I STILL DEMAND TO SPEAK TO A MANAGER! I DIDN’T PAY ALL THIS MONEY TO HAVE IT WASTED!”

(At this point, one of the managers happened to be walking by and I directed him toward the upset guest. Also at this time, they called her husband’s name again, just as I told the guest they would. I tried to inform the guest, but she ignored me and continued talking to my manager. I later found out that they missed their ceremony again and were forced to go to a later one.)

(I’m a huge tabletop RPG gamer; I play D&D and everything like it. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of folks around that like to play; fortunately, I DO have a lot of online communities I’m part of. I end up joining a friend-of-a-friend’s campaign, and we’re discussing character creation in PMs.)

Me: “Since nobody made a party face yet, I’m going to make a Tiefling warlock.”

Dungeon Master: “No.”

Me: “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Dungeon Master: “I don’t allow evil characters in my campaigns.

Me: “Good thing he’s not evil.”

Dungeon Master: “He’s a devil, who gets his powers from devils; of course, he’s evil. You’re not allowed to play a ‘good’ character that still does evil nonsense all the time.”

Me: “Can I at least explain the character to you?”

Dungeon Master: “I don’t want to hear about your edge-lord nonsense. You’re just going to try to justify your trash.”

Me: “He’s a serene, downright zen individual, who actually has a very soft laugh and a warm smile. He takes after his father, a human male, who was seduced by his Tiefling mother. Bounded by a pact at birth, he has no choice but to have these powers. He later swore a solemn oath to several good gods to never strike harm against an innocent or take a life of one who could be spared. He ended up touched by the Undying Light, replacing what would have been a fiend-pact, allowing him to bring healing and peace rather than fire and death.”

Dungeon Master: “Okay, that’s actually all right, but he’s going to be under intense scrutiny all the time.”

Me: “No, he’s not. I mean, I would have expected that, but I refuse to play with someone who in the first few sentences has already dubbed someone ‘trash.’”

(And with that, the Dungeon Master blocked me. I left well enough alone, just told my friend who introduced me that “it didn’t work out.” I heard about a month later that the DM kicked everyone out of the game and blocked everyone; I think I dodged a bullet there.)

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(I work as a receptionist at the main office of a big corporation.)

Me: *answering phone* “Thank you for calling [Company], [My Name] speaking. How may I direct your call?”

Caller: “I want to speak to [Colleague]; he works in the IT department.”

Me: “Sure, one moment, please.”

(I transfer the call to IT. No more than thirty seconds pass before the phone rings again. I answer the phone with the same dialogue.)

Caller: “Hi, I called before and wanted to speak to [Colleague] in IT, but you put me on hold.”

Me: “I transferred your call to his department. When we transfer calls, you hear music on your end until they answer.”

Caller: “Well, I’m calling long distance and I can’t be put on hold. Just hand the phone over to him.”

Me: “Sir, this is a 1-800 number. It’s toll-free, so you won’t be charged long distance. And I can’t hand [Colleague] the phone because this is a large building and he’s on a different floor.”

Caller: “But I’m in Ohio. You’re wasting my time. Put [Colleague] on the phone now.”

(I transferred the call again and, thankfully, they picked up before he had to wait too long.)