(I am working at a business very near a famous landmark building. The business has seen fit to name itself [Place Very Near Famous Landmark Building]. As you can imagine, this causes all kinds of confusion. I get a call that a delivery is coming for me, and they want to know what floor they can find me on. I can tell they think I am in [Famous Landmark Building].)

Me: “We are at [street address], across the street from [Famous Landmark Building]. Please use the street address to find us, and don’t just go to [Famous Landmark Building], as that is not where I work.”

Delivery Person: *obviously not listening* “Uh-huh. Should be there in fifteen minutes.”

(Fifteen minutes pass. I get a phone call.)

Delivery Person: “Where are you? I’m on the third floor, and nobody here has heard of you.”

Me: “Did you go to [Famous Landmark Building]?”

Delivery Person: “Yes.”

Me: “Again, that is not where I work. Please look at the delivery address.”

Delivery Person: “That’s where I am! I’m at [street address].”

Voice In The Background: “That’s not our address. That’s across the street.”

(There was a long silence. Then, the phone went dead. Five minutes later, I got a call from reception that a delivery guy came in, dropped my package at the desk, and ran off in a hurry.)

Related:
It’s All In The (Lack Of) Delivery, Part 3
It’s All In The (Lack Of) Delivery, Part 2
It’s All In The (Lack Of) Delivery

I work at a higher-end grocery store in New York on the maintenance crew. I am a girl, and my job on maintenance is to basically get into the women’s bathroom every so often and restock supplies and wipe down the counters. Nothing too bad.

I was in there today, waiting to replace toilet paper in an occupied stall. An older woman, at least in her 70s, came out and asked if I needed to get into the stall. I told her yes, and she said she would do it for me, but I told her I would get in when she was finished doing her business.

She walked out of the stall and told me just how much she had to take a dump, in detail, and how she kept walking around the bathroom as she “waited for it to come.” She also told me how much she hated doing this in public. She talked and rambled for around five minutes.

I had absolutely no idea how to respond, but was polite and listened as she was old, no matter how much I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

I worked in a cafeteria-style restaurant. The owner’s new wife would come through and say, “Hi, how are you?” You could tell she never really listened to the replies, as she would say, “That’s nice,” and continue on without even pausing.

One of my coworkers one day decided to check out if she was really listening. So, when asked, “How are you?” she replied, “I’m dying.” The owner’s wife said, “That’s nice,” and continued on her way.

(I’m around 19 with blonde hair and dimples, working my summer job while I attend college. I’m trying to be just ordinarily pleasant.)

Customer: “You’re so cute and friendly! You must be Canadian!”

Me: “Actually, I’m from Chicago!”

Customer: “UGH! Why would anyone want to be from there?!“

Me: *counting the ways this question is weird*

Customer: *accusatorily* “AND, you don’t have a Chicago accent!”

Me: “Um, sorry?!”

(I work in a movie theater. A guy comes up to me in the customer service department on a busy, understaffed Saturday. We are sold out of almost everything.)

Me: *thoroughly polite, with my fake smile and octave-higher-than-normal voice* “Hi. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I’d like a refund for this movie. I hated it.”

(He hands me a ticket for a 6:00 movie. It is now 8:05.)

Me:  “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give a refund past the scheduled start time.”

Customer: “Fine. Can I get the passes, then?”

(We have passes that cover any movie, including the pricier IMAX.)

Me: “Unfortunately, I don’t make the movies. I’m sorry you disliked it, but your movie is over, and I can’t give you passes for disliking a movie.”

Customer: “Get me your manager!”

(I call for a manager, and she comes over seconds later.)

Customer: “This rude worker won’t give me a refund.”

(The manager looks at the tickets.)

Manager: “Your movie has ended. We can’t give you a refund, and I’m not giving you passes for disliking a movie. Have a great day.”

(I nearly hugged my manager for this. Turns out the guy tries this weekly.)