(For the last few minutes, I’ve noticed people acting strangely towards me.)

Customer: “Hello-”

Me: “Hello, what can I do for you?” *smile*

Customer: *eyes bug out* “Um. Ah. Never mind.” *practically runs*

(I take out a small mirror to inspect my face, thinking I have some food for lunch left on it. Nothing. Bemused, I shrug and continue what I’m doing.)

Customer: “Hello, may I get a printout of my account?”

Me: “Of course, ma’am.”

(The customer eyes me weirdly, but I ignore the look. Then as I look down to type, I notice something MOVING on my shirt. It’s a beetle, as black as my shirt. I’m deathly afraid of bugs.)

Me: “Ahhh! Help! Help! Ahhh!”

(The customer and my coworkers stared as I frantically jumped around, swiping at the front of my shirt. The manager came out to see what I was screaming about, and I finally got it off. To this day since then, people call me the Bug-Brained Boy!)

(I’m in the office when a woman and her two children, a boy and girl, come in. The girl is here for a background check so she can work at a local grocer. The woman and her son take a seat in the small waiting area, which is pretty much in front of my desk. As I begin typing the information, I overhear this.)

Woman: “Honey, what’s that on your nose?”

Son: “I dunno, a bump?”

Woman: “It’s a zit! Here, let me squeeze it.”

Son: “What! No, the last time you did, blood came out!”

Woman: “Just hold still. Let me pop it.”

(At this point, I’m typing frantically, not wanting them to stay here any longer than they have to. The girl acts nonchalant about the whole thing, pretty much ignoring them.)

Son: “But it hurts! And what if pus comes out?”

Woman: “It ain’t gonna hurt you; it’s just yellow stuff. Now, hold still…”

Me: “Ma’am, we have a bathroom right up the stairs behind you.”

Woman: “Oh, thanks, honey!”

(I handed the girl her paperwork, and they headed upstairs to the bathroom. It’s a one-person bathroom, but all three fit in at the same time. However, they decided to keep the door open so the WHOLE BUILDING heard their dialogue on popping the boy’s zit. When they left, I saw the boy with a huge crater on his nose and pus leaking out. This was probably the grossest thing I’ve ever had to witness!)

(After a expletive-laced tantrum on the phone about an issue I resolved, I’m still being screamed at by this jerk, for no reason. Finally I have had enough.)

Caller: “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO THE F*** I AM?!”

Me: “Sorry to interrupt your tirade, sir, but I just need to verify a few details.”

Caller: “Okay, what?!”

Me: “Your name is [Caller], you live at [Address], your phone number is [number], your wife’s phone number is [number], your birthdate is [date], you work at [Business,] your mother’s maiden name is [Name], and your social security number is [number], correct?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “Do you know who I am?”

Caller: “…”

Me: “I’m the girl who makes eight bucks an hour to put up with the likes of you. I can ruin your life, and have another job making eight bucks an hour tomorrow. I suggest that you speak to me like a big boy. Now, is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. [social security number]?”

Caller: “No. I’m sure you are not allowed to tell people to f*** off, so I’m just gonna do it myself.”

Me: “Thank you, sir. Have a great day.”

(My boss is not very tech savvy; I am the best at IT and related things in the office so he often asks me for help. I have tried many times to explain everyday computer terminology to him to no avail.)

Boss: “[My Name], could you come over here?”

Me: *walks over* “Yes?”

Boss: “I just did something and now all these files have ended up in the wrong folder! Can you help me move them back here so I can rename them properly?” *waves mouse over an area of the desktop, which is already almost filled with file and folder icons*

(I look; there are over 20 files in a “New Folder”. Note that my boss’s concept of moving files is to do them one by one; no matter how many times I’ve tried to teach him how to select multiple files and drag them to move them, he never seems to learn.)

Boss: “They were here just now and now can you move them back.” *again gesturing vaguely at the desktop with his mouse*

Me: “So just to be sure, you want me to move your files onto the desktop, where they will end up here?” *gesturing outside of the screen, which is the only way I’ve found that he understands that the file icons can’t be seen anymore because they are too many and can’t be all displayed on the desktop*

Boss: “Yeah.”

Me: “You sure?”

Boss: “Just do it!”

Me: Okay.” *clicks and drags all the files to the desktop, where, predictably, half the file icons can no longer be seen*

Boss: “What did you do? I told you to move them to a separate folder so I can rename them all together!”

Me: *sighs internally*

(I work for a company that manufacturers Android devices. The CEO doesn’t know much about his market.)

CEO: “I want to preinstall this software on our Android devices.”

(I check out the software only to find out it is outdated.)

Me: “The software runs on DOS and requires floppy disks to be installed. It also hasn’t been updated for 15 years.”

CEO: “So? Can we have it on our Android devices?”

Me: “No, I’m afraid our devices don’t have a floppy disk reader or DOS…”