(The restaurant where I work is very popular and can be really crowded during lunch hour. Also, it is a small business and there are less than twenty seated places. My coworker has called off and I am the only waitress on the floor. Since most of the clients are regulars, they know the waiting can be long, so they are mostly patient and nice even though the line reaches outside. A woman decides she has had enough and cuts the entire line, grabs my arm — note that I have food plates in both hands and even on my arms — and yells at me:)

Customer: “WHY IS IT TAKING THIS LONG? I WANT TO BE SEATED NOW!”

Me: “Please, madam, be careful! Those plates are hot!”

Customer: “I don’t care; I want to be served!”

Me: “I am really sorry, madam, but you will have to wait in line.”

Customer: “NO! I don’t have to wait.”

Me: “Again, madam, I’m sorry, but all these people were here before you and therefore, you must wait. As you can see, we are incredibly busy.”

Customer: “I DON’T CARE! Do you know who I am?”

Other Customer: “I know who you are.”

Customer: “Finally! I—“

Other Customer: *without missing a beat* “You are a human being like everybody else. And decent human beings wait in line! So get back there!”

(The lady left in a huff. I couldn’t have said it better myself!)

(I have a classic case of “can’t get up” this morning. I wake to my alarm only to turn it back off and fall right back asleep. I end up missing the first period but arrange to arrive in time to get into the second without problems, except I notice something strange as I get closer to the school. It’s the pause where everyone should be between classes, but no one is outside and there’s a lot of noise coming from inside. I check my usual doors — mostly glass — and it’s locked with big chains around the inner handle. I see no one there. I go around and find all the doors are locked but one, where a teacher is holding the door in front of a mass of students of every level. Since I usually get along well with this teacher, I knock. He barely cracks it open to shoot to me:)

Teacher: “You wanted to get out, so stay out! See if I care! You deal with the consequences!”

(And he slams the door shut again. I catch a friend’s eyes behind the teacher, and I make a gesture that says, “What the f*** is going on?!” to which she shakes her head and returns the confused gesture. Since no one will let me in, I go back home and call my mother to let her know the story. I include my oversleep as I know I will not be in trouble — it is not a habit of mine, just a genuine accident — and tell her that I have no idea what is going on, and that I was not allowed into the school. At the end of the day, Mom tells me about a phone call she got from the school while she was at work. I’m not sure who it was who called her, but their conversation went like this:)

School Person: “Madame [Mom]? I’m calling you about your daughter, [My Name].”

Mom: “Is it about what happened this morning?”

School Person: “Oh. So, you are aware of what she’s done?”

Mom: “Yes and no. What happened exactly?”

School Person: “Your daughter took part in an illegal student protest, inciting violence and delinquency! Do you have any idea what she’s facing? Unless you both collaborate with us and comply with the consequences we put in place, we’ll have to report her to the police. Do you want us to call the cops on you?”

Mom: “Excuse me?!”

School Person: *detaching every syllable* “Do. You. Want. Us. To. Call. The. Cops. On. You. Two?”

Mom: “You actually reached [Mom’s Full Name] at [Police Headquarters] in charge of underaged, morality, street gang, and drugs and narcotics-related crime. How can I help you?”

School Person: *deflating* “Oh, you… You are a police officer?”

Mom: “No, I’m a civilian but I’m in charge of the office of the commanding officer and all the guys of this section. I’m surrounded by cops. So, how may I help you?”

School Person: *realising they won’t scare or bully Mom into anything* “Huh… Well, you know, your daughter did something really bad here…”

Mom: “Stop right there.”

School Person: “Yes?”

Mom: “My daughter had no part in this mess you are talking about. She was just late, arriving for second period, and found herself locked out and dumbfounded. She went back home since no one would let her in. What did you expect her to do, hang by the door the whole day?”

School Person: *jumping at the opportunity* “Oh, she was late? Well, she should still be punished for skipping first period. “

Mom: “No, she was not skipping.”

School Person: “She… was not?”

Mom: “No, she was not. If I find out you’ve tried to put her in trouble, despite the fact that you guys f***ed up, I’ll come down to see you personally.”

(The next day, my friend told me some people tried to organise a protest, because there was talk about closing our school. Some of the older students actually managed to organize and plan one before, but all legally. It turned out that the school employee had orders to lock all the students in and then tried to excessively punish the students — involving their families and the law — who slipped out, took part in the protest or its “organisation,” or took the opportunity to make trouble in general. I just got innocently caught in the middle of this, without ever being aware of anything. Thanks, Mom, for fighting for my innocence.)

(This story happened to my father in the 70s, before cellphones and Internet. While going to university, he lived with three roommates; the first two were fairly regular guys, but the third one, well… He was a weird, eccentric guy, and a bit of an idiot. One night, my father and the weird roommate are the only ones at the apartment. My father comes out of his room to go to the kitchen and sees that the roommate is on the phone.)

Roommate: “Hi, can I speak to [Name]?” *pause* “A wrong number? Didn’t I call [Number]?”

(My father thinks nothing of it and goes back to his room. A few minutes later, he hears guitar playing and singing, so he goes to investigate. He comes out of his room and sees his roommate sitting on a bench, playing guitar, and singing with the phone lying on the counter, pointing towards him. Then, after two or three minutes of this, the roommate picks up the phone and talks a bit with the person on the other side, wishes them farewell, and hangs up.)

Father: “What was that all about? Why the heck were you playing guitar on a phone call?”

Roommate: “Oh, yeah! Funny story. I dialed the wrong number, and then I chatted a bit with the girl who answered the phone. We’re about the same age, and I asked her if she knew [Artist], and then I offered to sing one of their songs.”

Father: *incredulous* “And she said yes?”

Roommate: “Yes, of course! So, I sang to her, and she said she liked it.”

(My father starts thinking, “I can’t believe he actually found someone as crazy as himself!”)

Father: “So, when will you see her?”

Roommate: “What do you mean?”

Father: “Dude, if she lets you sing to her after you called a wrong number, surely she’s interested in you. Didn’t you ask for her number?”

Roommate: “Oh, I didn’t think about that.”

(And that’s how that weird roommate finally realized that he had managed to charm a complete stranger on a wrong phone number call, and ultimately screwed it up because he was so oblivious.)

(I work in a call center of a big home improvement supply chain. I am known for my sometimes-borderline-professional, weird humour. A customer calls:)

Customer: “Do you deliver, by chance?”

Me: “We do deliver, but never by chance; we always go directly at the address written on the sticker.”

(I never heard a customer laughing that hard and that long on the phone before.)

(I am working as a copier service rep. I am doing extensive maintenance on a copier when an executive administrative assistant walks in, holding a paper.)

Assistant: “Can I make a copy?”

Me: “Sorry, it’s not working right now.”

Assistant: “Well, I just need one copy.”

Me: “The copier is out of order.”

Assistant: “Well, even for one?”

Me: “It’s not working; I have parts pulled out.”

Assistant: “I just need that one page. Sure you can’t?”

Me: “It. Doesn’t. Work.” *opening my arms to show all the parts and tools spread out everywhere*

Assistant: “The VP is waiting for it.”

(I just stand there, not talking, looking at her.)

Assistant: “Oh, well… I guess I will have to use the other copier downstairs.”

(That would have been a one-minute walk, she was next to the staircase, and the other copier was next to it at the other end. When I told that to a fellow service rep, he said that he’d had a similar experience. However, after the third time, he said he simply stepped aside and let the customer use the copier. She put the paper on, pressed the start button, turned to him, and said, “Eh… it doesn’t work.” He answered, “Exactly.” She then understood and left.)