(I work at a call center doing tech support for a big company.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company] support. My name is [My Name]. How may I help you today?”

Customer: “Yeah… my phone’s locked.”

Me: “I’d be more than happy to assist you with that. Now, when you say, ‘locked,’ what do you mean?”

Customer: “It’s just locked.”

Me: “There are different kinds of locks that can happen on your phone and each lock has a different way to fix it. What does the screen say?”

Customer: “It’s locked. What don’t you get?”

Me: *still trying to maintain my customer service voice* “Sir, what does the screen say?”

Customer: “It says it’s disabled.”

Me: “Okay! And is there a timer, or does it just say its disabled?”

Customer: “It just says it’s disabled and to connect to [Company Media Player].”

(I explain to the customer how he ended up in the predicament.)

Me: “It seems the only way to get your phone working again is to connect to [Company Media Player] and restore the phone to factory settings.”

Customer: “What?! Are you f****** kidding me? Don’t you all have some button you can push to fix this?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have that ability. The only way to fix it is as I described.”

Customer: “But won’t I lose everything if I set it back to default?”

Me: “Do you know if your phone has been backing up to the cloud wirelessly?”

Customer: “That thing where the government and random people can see all my s***? H*** no!”

Me: “Then, yes, there is a very real possibility of data loss here.”

Customer: “F*** you. I’m just going to get a new phone and have them import everything over.”

Me: “That’s always an option if that’s what you want to do, but I do advise that you won’t be able to transport your data over because your device is disabled.”

(We went back and forth like this for a few minutes more before the customer became belligerent and I warned him twice before disconnecting the call. I logged everything that happened in the case notes and advised if the customer calls back to get him to a supervisor. I checked back on the case before the end of my shift and the customer did indeed call back. The advisor who got him next wrote in their notes that he was calling to get a refund on a phone he bought because he wasn’t able to transfer over data and his carrier said they couldn’t help. They also noted that when they tried to get him to a supervisor for assistance he became very angry and disconnected the call himself.)

(I’ve gotten the results back from a quiz in my geography class. I notice an answer marked wrong, and I am convinced I answered correctly. In my righteous indignation, I grab two different encyclopedia volumes and do research to back me up before confronting the teacher. As I’m winding up for my big conclusion with him…)

Me: “I went and looked this up — twice! — and both sources said the same thing: at 4.2 light-years away, Proxima Centauri is the closest star to the Earth, except for the–”

(I’ve added the last part by simple rote, but I realize that it’s entirely correct and has completely undermined my argument; the question asked for the closest star to Earth. The teacher simply gives me a calm, patient smile, nodding.)

Me: “…I’ll just go sit down now.”

Me: “Can I have your name, please?”

Caller: “Tanya.”

Me: “Is that Tanya with a Y, or Tanja with a J?”

Caller: “Tanya with a T.”

(I have gotten a ticket for supposedly not coming to a full stop before making a turn. Instead of paying the fine, I decide to go to traffic court to see if I can get it reduced by explaining what happened. While sitting in the gallery waiting for the judge to handle other cases, I can see that he is pretty strict and I start wondering if I’ve made a wise choice by going to court. I really become concerned when the next person, a young man around my age, is called by the court clerk and his charge is read.)

Judge: “You stupid little [expletive]! Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you appeared in my courtroom again?”  

(The judge carries on like this for a few more minutes while the young man stands there looking miserable. I can see that the judge is getting madder and madder. The young man apparently has a poor driving record and has been in this same courtroom several times before. Finally, the judge tells him that his license is suspended and to get the h*** out of his courtroom. While this is going on, I keep thinking, “Please, don’t let me be the next one called!” And, of course, I am the next one called. The clerk then reads the charge.)

Judge: “How do you plead?”

Me: “Technically guilty, I guess, Your Honor.”

Judge: “Hmm, how long have you been driving?”

Me: “About eight years.”

Judge: “Have you had any other tickets?”

Me: “No, Your Honor.”

Judge: “Well, that’s a very fine record, young man. Dismissed!”

(I have just moved from California to Oregon and need to get a new prescription for my asthma medication. I go to a doctor in my new city. I’m a new patient, so of course, he takes a bit of time with me going over all my stuff. Then, this exchange takes place. Note: I am an overweight guy, but not extremely.)

Doctor: “How long have you had diabetes?”

Me: “I don’t.”

Doctor: “Of course, you do; you are overweight. I’m going to write you a prescription for that. How long have you had high blood pressure?”

Me: “Was my blood pressure high when the nurse took it? I thought it was normal.”

Doctor: “It was normal, but I’m pretty sure you have high blood pressure, so I’m going to write you a prescription for that. I’m also going to write you a prescription for high cholesterol and one to help you lose weight.”

Me: “How do you know I have high cholesterol if you haven’t taken blood?”

Doctor: “I’m sure you do.”

Me: “What about my asthma medication?”

Doctor: “Oh, I’ll give you that, too.”

(I ended up leaving with the one prescription I needed, and four I didn’t ask for. I never went to him again. I found a better doctor who ran all my blood work and looked me over and said I didn’t need any of that, and that the weight loss drug had just been pulled off the market for causing heart issues.)

Related:
What A Diabeetus, Part 7
What A Diabeetus, Part 6
What A Diabeetus, Part 5