Every house likes its fast food every now and again. Ours has the occasional weakness for a chicken restaurant’s secret recipe. We have moved to a location where we can order straight from them with in-house delivery, no third-party required.

With three people ordering, it’s always a mixed bag of what people are in the mood for. One flatmate likes having a burger or some other addition to their chicken. No big deal. One bucket deal and a burger on the side. No trouble!

Then, one day, that flatmate decides instead to have nuggets. Sure! That’s added to the order, instead. There’s a discussion of sauces and one is chosen. Now to wait for food.

Simple, right?

Well, no sauces show up!

We turn the bag inside and out, but there’s no sign of the sauces. We figure they forgot, go on without it, and eat our dinner.

A few weeks later, we get that craving again, and that flatmate decides once again to go for the nuggets. This time, I call ahead and let them know we’ve placed an order and want to make sure the sauce is in the bag. I speak to a person who seems like they are in the process of packing that bag right now! Problem solved!

Well… no sauce again.

This time, I file a complaint. We’ve previously complimented this store for everything from politeness to promptness and good food. I reiterate that praise and mention the oddity of the missing sauces. There is a week of silence before I get an apologetic reply, a $10 voucher for our next meal, and the promise of an investigation.

Problem solved… right?

On our next meal, this flatmate decides to not risk the nuggets again and gets a burger. I go to apply the voucher and get an error: “voucher already redeemed”.

We still order, but I’m sad that I did not get my promised resolution. I let them know and get a new voucher to use on another meal. A week passes.

Our next order comes up, I use the voucher. SUCCESS! And the flatmate once again goes for the nuggets.

I’m kind of convinced at this point that the sauces are a joke and never existed, for once again, there are no sauces.

Like most call centers, my work tools require us to identify a person before we can do anything specific. Without a customer file in front of us, we can only access VERY general information such as “signs your computer has a bug” or “reset keys for fifteen varieties of smart devices”. Without that file, we have no history, no previous notes, not even a hint that they have troubleshot with us before.

With this in mind, we only ask for identifiers if nothing comes up when the call comes in. It normally takes the system about five seconds to load the data.

Me: “Good morning. This is [My Name]; I’ll be your technical advisor. And who am I speaking with this morning?”

The basic form crops up… and everything is blank. Even the phone number is set to “anonymous” so I can’t use that.

Customer: “Morning. I’m [Customer].”

Me: “Wonderful. Do you mind if I grab your email to make sure all my notes get properly logged?”

Customer: “No, you don’t need that. I just need to ask some things.”

Me: “Sure thing, then. Just so you know, without it, I will only have general information, nothing specific.”

Customer: “Sure, fine. Okay.”

The customer then launches into a technical issue that starts out very straightforward. I load up what I can to advise them and start asking questions to narrow it down. When did it start, did it happen all at once or in stages, have they turned it on and off again yet? In going through the routine steps, the customer seems to snap.

Customer: “I’ve already done all that! Are you stupid? Look at the notes and you can see all of that already!”

There is a tiny pause as I am savouring the words I am about to say.

Me: “I do beg your pardon, [Customer], but I don’t have your notes in front of me. That is why I asked for an email and clarified that I’d only have general information without it.”

Dead silence.

Me: *In my sweetest customer service voice* “Would you like to give it to me now so I can look it up?”

The customer meekly gave me the email. Funny how I was able to help him much better with some specifics. I really shouldn’t have enjoyed that moment as much as I did, but boy, was it satisfying to hear someone face that they were the instrument of their own torment.

The Viking Festival is a great excuse for Norse and medieval reenactors to get together, and the general public is fascinated by the market stalls that sell modern-day replicas of period items.

Our friend’s stall specializes in cooking items reproduced as closely as possible to historic finds. The most popular items are the drinking horns and horn tankards. None of his goods are plastic or resin.

A lady has been at the stall for some time, examining every horn available.

Customer: “They’re not very well made. None of them match!“

Stall Keeper: “No, each one is slightly different. It reflects the life of the animal it came from.“

Customer: “What do you mean? You said these were natural horn?“

Stall Keeper: “Yes, real horn from real cattle.“

Customer: “Eww, no! That’s disgusting! Where are your vegan ones?”

Me: “I’m calling about an overdue electricity account.“

Customer: “You can’t cut me off! I have three or four children!“

I work as a manager at a fusion bar/restaurant in a very affluent area and, understandably, this means we get some incredibly entitled people with very strange complaints or requests — especially from the “old money” types who swing by.

I’m managing a dinner shift one night. Our first question when diners are seated is whether they’d like chilled tap water or a bottle of sparkling water from the bar chiller. It’s a warm summer night and we’ve just sat an older couple on the porch area of our venue and poured out two glasses of the sparkling water they requested.

Server: “Umm, the lady from the couple we seated just dropped her glass of sparkling water and wants us to replace it and speak with you.”

I fill a water glass of soda water and head over. I spot the lady with an obviously confused frown on her face. The offending spilled water has already been wiped from herself and the table, and the broken glass has been cleared away.

Me: “Hi there. I’ve just got a replacement for the sparkling water you dropped. Is everything all right?”

Customer: “Absolutely not! Your glasses are just far too slippery! I just went to take a sip and it just slipped from my hand. Completely unacceptable.”

Me: “Oh? Slippery? As in greasy? I’m so sorry, that is completely unaccepta—”

Customer: “No, no, no! It wasn’t greasy! It was just covered in water! Look at the one you’ve just put down! It’s already covered in water!”

She points to the chilled soda water I’ve placed on her table that has slowly begun to form condensation.

Me: “You mean the condensation on the outside of the glass?”

Customer: “Yes, of course!”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s a warm evening and our glasses are room temperature. Our tap and sparkling water are kept chilled and of course, condensation will occur on the outside of the glass. Would you prefer a room temperature bottle of water, instead?”

Customer: *Makes a disgusted face* “Warm water?! No, of course not! It’s been such a hot day! I just don’t understand why the glasses are wet!”

This was the exact moment that I died inside.

I then spent five minutes briefly explaining the laws of thermodynamics to a lady in her late sixties while her poor husband watched in silence. In the end, she still didn’t seem to understand and didn’t touch her water for the remainder of her dining experience but seemed happy to take multiple, uneventful sips of her chilled glass of Pinot Gris which was, of course, covered in condensation.

Related:
Thermodynamics, You Take It From Here, Part 2
Thermodynamics, You Take It From Here