I work for a towing company that starts up in October 2016. This is exactly one day after it opens up, and all we offer right now is roadside assistance like jumpstarts and tire changes. We don’t have any tow trucks to drive quite yet, though we do have “Towing” in our company name. 

We’re also contracted with a large insurance company, and apparently this customer got a card from her insurance company that had our number on it for her roadside assistance program.

Me: “[Towing Company], how can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi. I’m calling ’cause I got into an accident. What do I do?”

Me: “Have you called your local police to report it?”

Customer: “Yes, but I need a tow.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but all we provide is roadside assistance services like jumpstarts and lockouts. We aren’t capable of providing towing service. When the police arrive on scene, they can call you a tow truck.”

Customer: “Isn’t this [Towing Company]?”

Me: “Yes, but we don’t offer towing services yet. We still don’t have the permits or trucks to do so.”

Customer: “But my insurance gave me your number. It’s on my card. Are you calling [Insurance Provider] liars?”

Me: “No, but that number is probably there for more minor roadside inconveniences. If you had a flat tire, I could help you, but all I can suggest is that you wait for the police to arrive or to call your insurance provider and have them call you a tow truck.”

Customer: “I’m going to report you to [Insurance Provider] and make sure they never use your towing service again!” *Hangs up*

Me: “But we don’t even do towing.”

Towing started up a month later. We’ve never had that person on our records since as far as I could tell.

I am looking for good deals on beef in the weekly ad for this grocery store. I head to the checkout lane. The cashier has two people ahead of me: an average-looking gent and then a twenty-something woman who also seems nondescript. I am hoping to get home and get these in the fridge. The gent finishes, and then the woman is up. The cashier scans her stuff, then gets to the total.

Cashier: “Do you have your rewards card?”

Customer: “No, don’t you have one of those you can use for customers?”

Cashier: “No, sorry. How about your phone number?”

I get ready to offer my card for her use. I can relate to not having the card. The woman gives her phone number and nothing comes up.

Cashier: “Sorry, I don’t have anything on that number. Do you have another number?”

Customer: “No! Just punch in the code so I can get my discount.”

I look at her face and kick myself for not having my phone ready to watch this pending collision happen. I put my rewards card back in my pocket and grab my phone.

Cashier: “I’m afraid I need a card to scan to do that.”

Customer: “Listen. Either you punch that code in and give me my discount, or I’m going to send a complaint to your manager, bury this place in bad reviews with your name on them, and call corporate.”

I pull up a search on my phone as the cashier tries to tell her that there is no code to punch in.

Customer: “If you don’t—”

Me: “Sir, is she threatening you physically?”

The customer turns to look at me.

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “Wait, I found it.”

I read from my phone.

Me: “‘Blackmail, the use of threats or the manipulation of someone’s feelings to force them to do something.’”

The customer GLARES at me.

Me: “Trust me, anything you say or post will be promptly followed by my account of how things went.”

Customer: *Getting red* “F*** you.”

Me: “They may be able to call you out, but I definitely will.”

She angrily swipes her card and gets her stuff. She calls me a few more choice profanities as she stomps away, but I’m already holding up MY rewards card so she can see it.

Me: *To the cashier* “I was even going to offer the use of my card.”

The cashier thanked me with a smile. I offered my number so he could text me if anything happened and I could respond, but nothing ever did. Maybe she got smart enough to realize the kind of backlash she could get.

I teach workshops to the general public. I allow a ten-minute break about halfway through. I use breath mints to keep my mouth moist as I have to talk for about three hours. At break time, I finish the last mint and throw the tin away. One of the participants sees me.

Participant: “Hey, don’t do that; you could use those for pills or something.”

Me: “I didn’t need it, so…”

Participant: “Yeah, but those tins are useful. You can use them for pills.”

Me: “Well, I’m not going to take it out of the trash, but feel free if you want to.”

She looked at me like I’m the one who was crazy. At the end of the workshop, I looked in the trash and the tin was still there. I guess she wasn’t that gung-ho about it, after all.

I work on delivering packages for a major online store. They have recently started scheduling delivering as early as 8:00 am, so this means I’m up around 2:30 am to be ready for the early-morning delivery blocks. I am on the way when I realize I should put more gas in the car and grab some liquid caffeine at the same time, so I pull into a local gas station to tank up.

When I get there, I notice a rather thin man walking around in a thin coat — which is understandable, as it can get quite cold at night here, even in the desert. What I do not expect is that he is wearing sandals… and a red, ankle-length dress. I am a little unnerved, but he doesn’t make any violent moves toward me as I get out of my car and doesn’t even seem to notice me. I think, “Live and let live,” and head in to get a drink and some fuel.

As I’m paying, I mention the guy to the cashier, because he should probably know the guy’s around for safety reasons. When I describe him, he says, “Yeah… he used to be a cashier at one of our other stores.”

Already thinking this night might be a little too surreal, I ask, “Used to be?”

The cashier responds, “Yeah. He got fired when he spilled a soft-serve cone on the floor and then began licking it up. He hangs around a few of the stores sometimes.”

When I step outside, the man is gone, leaving no trace behind. I pump my gas, looking around me multiple times, but he does not reappear.

I still think about him. Shine on, you crazy, dress-wearing, ice-cream-off-the-floor-licking diamond.

(I work in the call center for an online contact-lens seller. A gentleman calls in upset that he has ripped his last pair of lenses. I help him place an order for a new box. Everything is going fine until we get towards the end of the call.)

Me: “Okay, sir, how did you want your lenses shipped? We offer free shipping via USPS which usually takes five to seven business days, or you can have them shipped next-day via [Shipping Company] for $19.95. Please be advised that since it’s Saturday, though, your order wouldn’t ship until Monday, so the earliest you’d receive them is Tuesday.”

Caller: “No, I need them now.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry for the miscommunication, sir, but our distribution center is not open on Saturday, so the earliest I can get them to you is Tuesday.”

Caller: “But I need them now! You will get them to me now! I need them to see; bring them to me.” 

Me: “Sir, we are in a different state than you. I am unable to bring you lenses.”

Caller: “I know that! You need to fax or email me my lenses immediately!”

Me: “You want me to email you your contact lenses?”

Caller: “Yes! Or fax! I need them now! If you can’t do it, I’ll find someplace that can.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t do that.”

Caller: *click*