I am divorced and currently live in a one-bedroom apartment. My twenty-two-year-old son decides to come back east and wants to live with me while he looks for a place to live. I say that it’s fine but that I want one weekend per month to myself and he will have to make other arrangements.  

Time for my weekend comes. My son calls his father and, being “cute,” asks:

Son: “Dad, can I crash at your place this weekend? Mom is kicking me out for the weekend.”

My ex can’t understand why I could possibly want him to leave for the weekend. He keeps asking my son why he is being kicked out for the weekend, and the kid keeps answering with, “So is it all right if I come to visit?”

Finally, I hear my son say:

Son: “Dad, do I really have to explain this to you?”

I’ve recently been hired at a chain of grocery stores that has a service where items are ordered online, shopped by store associates, and then brought out to your car when you arrive. I’m one of the assistant managers, but as this area of the store is swamped for the holidays, I’ve not been trained in much thus far and all of management needs to be able to run this area of the store should the need arise.

I bring out an order to an SUV and collect payment from a couple who are inoffensive but otherwise disinterested, which seems to be par for the course. Another associate is loading their things into their trunk when I hand them their receipt. 

Customer: “Where are my vitamins? I don’t see them on here.”

She wiggles the receipt at me from the passenger’s seat as if, from outside the car, ten feet away, I could read the tiny text on her receipt to solve her issue… or maybe she just thought I had her order memorized?

Me: “I can go inside and pull your order manifest to see if they’re listed. As they aren’t on the review page for items substituted or out of stock, they would be in your bags and on your receipt if they were ordered.”

Customer: “They’re in the pharmacy! I called and spoke to [Person] this morning; he said he would come and get them. This is ridiculous! Why do you even have this service if you can’t do your d*** jobs?”

I may be new to this job but not to retail. I have been alone in the to-go department all morning with only my trainer, another woman, able to answer the phone. There is no one named [Person] in our department or even with a name similar to [Person]. I give her a cool look.

Me: “Well, ma’am, that’s odd since there is no one by that name who works in this department—”

She cuts me off.

Customer: “I don’t care. I want my vitamins. They were there when I left today. Why aren’t they here now?”

I’m confused for a moment until I realize why she looks familiar.

Me: “You work in the pharmacy, then?”

Customer: “I’m the pharmacy manager, yes.”

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name], the new assistant store manager. I’d suggest you manage to walk your way back into your department and pick up your own vitamins. I’d also suggest you refrain from speaking to your fellow associates that way again because, after I file my complaint with human resources about you, that will mean you’re establishing a pattern of disrespect. Have a nice afternoon!”

She made a gaping fish face at me as I turned around. The associate who had been loading her order was torn between being stunned and laughing. Obviously, we all get customers who are less than their best. Why would you add to someone else’s burden by acting like the typical, entitled idiots we all hate?

I am in a lift — ahem, elevator — with an English colleague. His parents are from Hong Kong and speak no English, but he grew up in a town on the Sussex coast so his accent is pure home counties; think Hugh Grant but without the London twang. The third person in the lift is a stranger.

Me: “Where should we go for dinner tonight?”

Colleague: “Maybe that hamburger place on Washington Square [Colleague #2] suggested?”

Stranger: *Pointing* “You shouldn’t have that accent!”

She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth and looked embarrassed, apologising. He laughed it off because he got it. Asian accent, sure. Asian with an American accent, sure. Asian with a British accent, shocking!

During my summer vacation, I volunteer at the box office of a local theater where two shows happen on alternating nights. This year, we have a play and a musical.

Occasionally, the people in charge will have sales to sell a few more tickets to days that need a bit of a boost.

A sale like this is currently happening for 50% off tickets to the play; a few weeks ago, there was another sale for the musical at 30% off. All sale tickets are final sale — we can exchange to a new show for non-sale tickets — and musicals are a bit more money than plays.

I answer the phone.

Me: “Good morning! This is [Theater] and my name is [My Name]. How—”

Caller: *Cutting me off* “I want that deal I saw in the paper today.”

Me: “The 50% off?”

I start the process of bringing up her account and the availability of the performance.

Caller: “No. I already have tickets. But I want to get them refunded for the deal.”

I am looking at her orders for that year.

Me: “I see you bought tickets to [Musical] using the 30%-off deal.”

Caller: “Yes, I want a refund on those so I can buy this new deal. It’ll be cheaper.”

Me: “I understand that, but your tickets to [Musical] were bought using the 30%-off limited sale and those are final sale.”

Caller: “You are not understanding me! I want a refund and to buy the cheaper tickets!”

Me: “Your tickets to [Musical] are marked final sale. I can’t give you a refund.”

Caller: “Check with your supervisor.”

Me: “Okay.”

I put her on hold. I explain to the box office manager what the caller wants. The manager agrees with me that it’s not in the policies and won’t give in to the caller. I get back on the phone and explain to the caller again why we can’t honor her request.

Caller: “What if I came into the theater?”

Me: “The same policy applies.”

Caller: “My ticket money pays your paycheck, young lady! Do your job.”

Me: “I am a volunteer.”

The caller hangs up. I leave a log of the call on her order file and shake my head. A few hours later, I am getting programs ready for the performance that night and a man walks in.

Coworker: “Good afternoon.”

Customer: “Hi. My wife said she was told on the phone we had to bring in our tickets to move them to something else. I have all the information.”

Coworker: “Okay. Let me look up the order… Oh, your tickets are marked final sale.”

Customer: “Yes. But she said the lady on the phone said it was okay.”

My coworker brings up the order file; I can see my note on the screen.

Coworker: “Yes. She did call in. But she was told by both our volunteer and the manager because these are final sale tickets, they are not refundable. She got upset at our volunteer and hung up.”

Customer: *Upset* “I should’ve known [Wife] would try something like this!”

He stormed out, leaving the original tickets on the counter. My coworker and I just looked at each other and sighed, and I continued getting the programs ready as my coworker added to my call log.

I am a hostess at a restaurant. This phone call takes place around 7:30 pm.

Customer: “Hi, do you have a table for three people?”

Me: “Yes, I do! What time would you like to come in?”

Customer: “In about an hour.”

Me: “Okay, so, 8:30?”

Customer: “No, that is much too late for us!”

The customer hung up and I was left staring at the phone in bewilderment.