(It’s late in the season and not a lot of visitors. I’m manning the reception desk of a fairly large museum alone; the only other person in the building currently is a middle-aged lady.)

Lady: “The blue dress in the exhibition!”

Me: “Yes?”

Lady: “I was just wondering how much it would be?”

Me: “Well, it’s from the 1700s and very well preserved, so a similar dress at an antiques store would probably be fairly costly, but the museum acquired it…”

Lady: “Yes, but how much for it?!”

Me: “I’m… afraid I don’t understand you.”

Lady: “Can you open the thingy? I would like to try it on!”

Me: “You… want me to open a temperature regulated, specially built display case so that you can put on a several centuries old and very frail linen garment?”

Lady: “Yes?”

Me: “Madam, this is not a store. The items on display are not for sale.”

(The lady looked extremely perplexed, mumbled something about a costume party, and went back into the exhibition. I suppose she got us confused with costume rental…)

I work in Tech-support at my local municipality. My job is to help people employed in the municipality, not the people living there.
Me: Techsupport, this is [Me].
Lady: Where is this?
Me: This is IT-helpdesk at [municipality].
Lady: Ah, good. Perhaps you my explain to me why there is only no good, [a couple of derogatory insults which I can’t translete], people working at the City Hall?
(I am set back as we just had an Virus-outbeak and got nothing but good feedback on our effort).
Me: I’m sorry, but what seems to be the problem?
Lady: Why is it impossible to get hold of anyone on the phones?
(We do telephones to, so I may fix the problem for this lady. Also, our ISP have had som cellular problems lately, but all should be good now).
Me: Do you get cut off, or what is happening?
Lady: No, they answer. But they do nothing, and don’t even call back!.
Me: Is it IT who is not calling back?
Lady: No, it’s those b******s at childcare.
Me: Oh, I see. I’m sorry, but you have reached IT, I have nothing to do with childcare. If you…
Lady. Well, thats not my problem! You explain to an 8 year old why he have no shoes!
Me: I’m sorry, but I don’t think that is a good idea. I work with copmputers and telephones, not children.
Lady: Well explain why they don’t call back then!
Me: That may be for many reasons. But I do not work with childcare and do not know why. Let me see if I find their number and transfer your call.
Lady: No! I want you to explain to an 8 year old why you no good [and so on] do not helm him.
Me: Once again, you have reach IT, I know nothing of this.
Lady: Okay, you work at city hall, right?
Me: Yes.
Lady: Which floor?
Me: 2nd.
Lady: Good. I’ll come down and drop of the 8 year old and send him to you so you can explain why he has no shooes.
Me: That will do no good, I’m sorry, but I know nothing of this. Please let me transfer your call.
Lady: No, they can not help me at all. Get me the mayor.
Me: He is in meetings all day, so that is not possible.
Lady: No wonder nothing gets done when you are all in meetings all the time.
Me: Let me transfer you to the boss of childcare, okay?
Lady: Yes, do that.
(I could not find the number for the boss, so I transferred her to the front desk of childcare. If you read this, sorry. I noticed that she never said it was her son, and was later told taht this woman calls in at least once a mont to complaint about something. Usually childcare, but noone knows if she really has a son. We have a good childcare-system in Norway, so I hope sh found some shoes for the kid. It was, after all, snow and 0 degrees Celsius (32 F)).

(I’m rather clumsy, and this time it lands me in the ER. The doctor that’s checking me out is actually my neighbor.)

Doctor: “All right, what did you do this time?”

Me: “Well, I woke up and wanted to finish reading my book from yesterday, but I wanted to make breakfast, as well, so I walked downstairs whilst reading, and I kind of fell…”

Doctor: *long pause* “At least you read, right?”

(I managed to break a bone in my arm, and needed a cast.)

(I’m sick of people cutting in line, and if someone tries to get ahead of me, I will say something to them. I’m standing in line at the airport to get through passport control. There’s only one flight at the time that has to go through here, so everyone is obviously getting on the same flight. There are two girls, about 20 to 25, who decide to try to cut in front of me, instead of getting in the back of the line. There are only about six people behind me. So, of course, I don’t let them cut in front of me, and I say something.)

Me: “You do know that there’s a line, right?”

(It doesn’t look like they counted on someone outing them, and they look taken aback. [Girl #1] also looks irritated.)

Girl #1: “What? Well, we’re all going the same place, so what does it matter?”

Me: “Well, as you said, since we’re all going the same place, what does it matter if you go to the back of the line?”

(I turn away from them.)

Girl #1: “Geez, fine. I’ll let you get ahead of me.”

(I look at them, as if they’re stupid.)

Me: “Yeah, of course. I was here before you and didn’t cut anyone off.”

(They just rolled their eyes, and tried to get behind me. No one would let them cut in front of them, and they ended up having to get in the back of the line. By now, ten more people had arrived to get through passport control, so if they had just gotten in line at once, they would’ve gotten through quicker. Moral of the story? Don’t cut the line.)

(I work in a bookstore in Norway.)

Tourist: “Can you show us your books on the Norwegian trolls, please?”

Colleague: “Yes, of course!” *finds several illustrated children’s books*

Tourist: “No, no! Not children’s books. We want books with photos of the real trolls, in their natural environment!”

Colleague: “…”