I work at an online retailer that sells high-end children’s furniture. Even though it’s high-end we always offer the best prices and shipping options. Every year, without fail, two days before Christmas we are drowning in calls from these people:

Caller: “I ordered my kids Christmas present and it’s not here yet!”

Me: “I can see that you ordered an item that will take six days to be delivered, only three days before Christmas?”

Caller: *Upset.* “So you’re saying my kids won’t have their gift in time for Christmas?!”

Me: “Our website is clear in dozens of different places about our delivery times for all items.”

Caller: “You’ve ruined Christmas!”

As usual, we are in the wrong for their poor planning. We would joke with trainees that they weren’t really part of the team until they had ruined at least one Christmas.

Earlier this year, I discovered an aggregating service for single trading cards. Unlike [Other Popular Site], this one would let you make one large purchase, they would have the sellers send the cards you ordered to their warehouse, and then you paid for shipping at the time that you asked the cards to be sent to you. Part of what made me want to sign up with [Service] was that if you requested $25 or more worth of cards sold through their [Special Program] to be sent to you at the same time, you could get free shipping. Since they came from third-party sellers worldwide, it could take a while for the cards to arrive, so waiting until your stash built up was worthwhile.

After my first successful purchase and shipment, I reviewed [Service] on a review site, saying that potential customers shouldn’t be scared off by the reviewers who complained that they had to pay for shipping because you could get your shipping free if you followed instructions.

Excited as I was to continue using them, I put off making another order until my financial situation stabilized enough to spend the money — about six months or so. When I finally put together a second order, I noticed that there was no way to get free shipping. I contacted customer service via email.

Representative: “That was just a summer promotion to draw in customers from the USA. We had banners all over the site for months.”

I pointed out that it would’ve been nice to hear about the promotion coming to an end via email blast for those who hadn’t visited the site in a while, and I thanked the representative for explaining.

Before I placed my order, however, I went back to [Review Site] to update my experience:

Review Update: “I have no problem paying for shipping this time, but this will be my last order with [Service].”

Cue a barrage of emails from [Service] saying how unfair I was for “picking on [them] because [they] couldn’t keep a promotion going that made [them] lose money,” that they were just a “small Italian company” that couldn’t afford to offer free shipping long-term, and so forth. At no point did I deviate from my refrain of, “That’s okay. I understand. I’m perfectly willing to pay for the shipping,” but they kept pelting me with emails — several over the course of an hour or two — repeating their sob story.

Finally, I broke down and wrote back.

Me: “This is starting to feel like harassment. As far as I’m concerned, we’re down to one of two options: either leave me alone and I’ll pay for my shipping and we can end our business relationship there, or you can refund me [amount I paid for the cards I have waiting] and I’ll delete my account on your site. But I’m not changing my review.”

They stopped pestering me — which I’m grateful for — but they also didn’t tell me their choice. After they’d been quiet for a few days, I tried to log in to finally pay for my shipping and discovered that I’d been banned.

But at least I got my refund!

Caller: “I get my Internet from you, and it’s not working right!”

Me: *Looking at the caller’s details* “I’m not seeing an outage in your area. Could you—”

Caller: “No! It’s not an outage thing! But your stupid Internet won’t let me post my s***!”

Me: “Oh, are you having an issue with a particular website?”

Caller: “All of them! Facebook! Twitter! I keep posting, and then they keeping taking them down!”

Me: “Oh! I see. Well then, it sounds like your Internet service, which we are responsible for, is working just fine. We’re not responsible for the actions of Facebook and Twitter.”

Caller: “I pay you for Internet! I expect my Internet to do what I need it to do!”

Me: “I would recommend contacting Facebook and Twitter about your issues, ma’am.”

Caller: “I tried! They got no phone number like you do!”

Me: *Trying to be helpful* “Maybe it’s to do with the nature of what you’re posting? I know that Facebook and Twitter have policies that—”

Caller: “All I’m posting are the f****** facts! The facts! They keep coming at me with their f****** fact-checkers!”

Me: “I… see. Well, ma’am, I do know that sometimes, if what you post can be interpreted as misinformation, they can apply fact-checkers to… uh… make the message a bit clearer?”

Caller: “I don’t need their f****** fact-checker! The Bible is my fact checker!”

Oh, Lord…

Me: “I’m afraid there’s still nothing I can do, ma’am.”

Caller: “Useless libt*rd!” *Click*

Yeah… there was no saving that conversation.

I teach Japanese language classes online. In Japanese, many words sound very similar to each other, so beginner students frequently end up saying the most outlandish (and sometimes profane) things by accident.

In this particular class, [Student #1] was supposed to say, “I bought fish.” (Watashi wa sakana wo kaimashita.)

Student #1: “Watashi wa… sakana… ni… k… kikimashita.”

Me: “Okay, you started great, but then you ended up questioning the fish. How do you say ‘buy’?”

[Student #1] corrected herself.

Sometime later, I heard a notification go off on her device with a characteristic “blurb”.

Me: “Oh, what’s that bubbling sound?”

Student #2: “The fish must be back.”

I used to use one of the dating/hookup apps. I matched with a guy, we chatted in the app for a bit, and we finally decided to exchange numbers and meet for coffee. The day we were supposed to meet for coffee — right before I walked out the door, actually — I got a text from him.

Match: “Hey, sorry to do this, but I got pulled into a dinner meeting with a client and my manager, and I’m going to need to reschedule coffee.”

Me: “Oh, that’s fine. Stuff happens.”

He (supposedly) worked for an architecture firm of some kind, so I could believe last-minute meetings. The next day, I sent him a message.

Me: “Hey, how’d your dinner thing go last night? What’s your schedule like so we can reschedule a meeting for coffee?”

Crickets. I tried messaging him another couple of times over the following days and continued to get nothing. I shrugged and figured I’d been ghosted as was the way of things for me.

About six months later, I got a text.

Match: “Hey, how’s it going?”

I hadn’t deleted his number for some reason. I can’t remember why; I meant to and then just forgot. I was surprised enough that I responded.

Me: “Not bad. How about you?”

Match: “Pretty good. You know, we never had that coffee.”

Me: “You’re right; we didn’t.”

Match: “Well, how’d you like to try and meet?”

Me: “Um, sure.”

Then, I thought about it and decided no. Too much ghosting had happened, and while I figured his dinner thing had been true, part of me couldn’t help but wonder. I texted him again about an hour later.

Me: “Um, you know what? I know that I said I’d like to meet, but after thinking about it, I don’t think this is worth it. You ghosted me six months ago, and I’m just really tired of being ghosted. So, thank you, but no.”

Match: “What? Why not? I really want to meet you. I’m really, really sorry I ghosted you.”

Me: “Um, no. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested anymore.”

Match: “Oh, come on! I really do want to meet you!”

I blocked his number and made sure to unmatch him. I also deleted the app, although that was more because I was done with the app as a whole than anything related to him.

Maybe he was really wrapped up in work, but the cynical part of me leans toward the idea that he was either already in a relationship and trying to cheat but then almost got caught, and the reason he texted me six months later was that he’d left the relationship. Or, he’d been trying to meet multiple girls at the same time and happened to double-book himself and the other girl he met first.

Who knows what his real reasons were? But after he started pushing to meet when I said no, I was really glad I didn’t meet up with him. (Although, yes, I always make sure that I meet guys somewhere public — somewhere that I know or have at least had time to scope out — and I always mention to at least one friend that I have a date.)