(I work at a company that requires you to use an ID badge to get through the front doors. However, rather than having an automatic reader you scan, there is instead a manual, hand-held scanner that the person behind the reception desk will use to scan the ID. If they get the green light, they’ll then hit a button behind the desk to open the doors. On this particular day, I get to the desk while I am still trying to pull my ID out of my pocket. The lady behind the desk is someone who I’ve never seen before.)

Receptionist: “You need to present your ID.”

Me: *cheerfully* “Yep, sorry. It got stuck in my pocket.”

Receptionist: *rolls her eyes* “If you don’t have an ID, you aren’t getting in.”

(At that moment, I manage to pull it free of the fold it was stuck on, and hold it out.)

Me: “Right, sorry. There you go.”

Receptionist: *not even looking at my card* “You need a card to get in.”

Me: *slowly wiggling it back and forth* “Yes, it’s right here.”

Receptionist: *turns away and starts fiddling with her computer* “I can’t just let you in without an ID.”

Me: *frustrated at this point* “I know, which is why I have my ID right here.”

(She doesn’t respond, leaving me standing there with my ID out. After a moment, one of the security officers for the building comes over.)

Officer: “Is there a problem?”

Receptionist: *wheeling around* “He’s trying to get in without an ID.”

(The officer looked between the card in my hand and the receptionist, before reaching over and picking up the hand scanner. He didn’t say a word as he scanned my card, the light flashed green, and he then reached around and hit the door-open button behind the desk. Throughout all this, the receptionist kept looking at him, continuing to not even acknowledge that my card existed. I left at that point, and I haven’t seen that woman at the desk since then. I’m still not sure if this was some sort of weird power play on her part, or if her brain really was filtering out the existence of my ID card.)

(I work in a college residence hall. In addition to visitor information, we also provide services to residents, such as equipment rental and cash exchanges. Two customers approach the desk at the same time, both with $10 bills.)

Customer #1: “Hi. Can we get change here?”

Me: “Yes, you can, provided you don’t need ones. We only have two at the moment.”

Customer #1: “Can I get ten ones?”

(I figure she just misunderstood what I said.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but we only have two ones. I can really only give you two fives for a ten. Will that work?”

Customer #1: “Yes, that will be fine.”

(She steps aside, and [Customer #2], who has heard the whole exchange, steps up and puts her $10 on the counter.)

Customer #2: “Hi. Can you exchange this for a five and five ones?”

(I attend a college that requires every graduate to complete, over the course of their education, four physical education courses. Going into my final semester, I check my credits only to discover that I only have credit for three courses due to completing the same basic PE course in two different semesters. The second course was treated as a re-do and overwrote the grade of the first. Thankfully, the school has forms for this sort of thing. I fill one out and submit it to the correct office and think nothing of it for six weeks, until…)

Me: “Excuse me. I filled out a form to have a PE course counted twice for my credits. This was about a month ago and I just noticed I’m still short on credits.”

Help Desk: “Hmm, I don’t see anything in the system about it. Let me check your student folder.”

(Drawers are opened and folders are shuffled.)

Help Desk: “Nope, I don’t have any form for that. Are you sure it was submitted properly?”

Me: “Yes, I did it right here at this desk.”

(Long story short, they have no history of me submitting this document which included my name, student ID number, and class information. I am not thrilled but I get a new copy, fill it out, and resubmit it. Two weeks later…)

Me: “Hi. I submitted a form to have a PE course counted twice two weeks ago and it isn’t showing up. Could you check your system?”

Help Desk: “I’m not seeing anything in the system. Let me check your student folder. You’re sure it was submitted here, right?”

Me: “Yes, and this is the second time I’ve done this at this desk.”

(Again, no form is found. So, I get another form, fill it out, photocopy it, and submit the original. One week later…)

Me: “Okay, I submitted a form last week for getting a PE course counted twice but it’s not on my account. What is going on with it?”

Help Desk: “I’ve got nothing in the system. Let me check your folder… Yeah, nothing here. Did you–”

(I plop down a photocopy of the form.)

Me: “This is the third time I’ve come here asking when this form is getting counted. What the heck is going on that you’ve lost my paperwork three times?!”

(It finally stuck. If it hadn’t, I would have had to come back for one more semester for a single PE credit!)

(I work as a receptionist in Melbourne for a company with multiple branches, one of which subcontracts to a [Nationwide Telecommunications Company] upgrade which is rather unpopular, meaning I’ve dealt with a fair few disgruntled callers, but this one really takes the cake. An upset woman calls up demanding to speak to a manager of our telecommunications branch, demanding that a piece of equipment just outside her home be replaced or upgraded because it’s not been done properly. Our staff have spray-painted a big cross on it as we can’t proceed with the upgrade due to the equipment being unsuitable or damaged. Unfortunately, we have no control over the equipment, as it’s previously installed by [Telecommunications Distributor] and is outside of our scope of work and is the property of [Distributor], but the woman is refusing to listen to me and demanding to speak to a manager. Technically speaking, she is not our customer, as our customer is [Distributor] and not the end user.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but the best thing I can do for you is forward you to the [Distributor] faults line to handle…”

Woman: *snappily* “Well, I’m not even their customer; I’m the customer of [Telecommunications Provider], so I want to talk to your mob, instead.”

Me: “Hang on. Have you spoken to [Provider] about your concerns about this yet?”

Woman: “No, but your mob are in the area doing work on the equipment, so you can repair and replace it while you’re there. My concern is that your mob won’t do the work which means I’ll be unable to use phones and Internet when [Nationwide Telecommunications] upgrade is complete, meaning I’ll be left without Internet or phone lines.”

Me: “Well, technically, that’s not accurate, since wireless options exist, as well. Anyway, we still aren’t involved and you’ll need to speak with—”

Woman: *cutting me off* “Well, don’t take this personally, but I feel like your mob just aren’t going to do the work because it’s in the ‘too hard’ basket, and then you’ll be gone, and I’ll be stuck!”

Me: “I understand, but—”

Woman: “So, let me speak to a manager already!”

Me: *sighing inwardly* “Again, unfortunately, our customer is [Distributor], meaning you’d need to speak with them about any issues you may have. We have no control over what may exist or not; we’re just in the area doing upgrades.”

Woman: “In that case, I want to talk to your manager as your staff have defaced my property!”

(I’m a bit perplexed; our staff are trained to not do any sort of damage to private property. It’s also important to note here that in Australia, anything past a dwelling’s driveway, such as the pavement and the nature strip, belong to the local council, and not the individual homeowner.)

Me: “Hang on. I thought you said that the markings were on the pavement.”

Woman: “Yes! It’s on the pavement and the equipment; they’ve defaced my nature strip!”

Me: *deadpan voice* “Technically, that doesn’t belong to you. That belongs to the council.”

(Pause.)

Woman: “You know an awful lot for a receptionist. Fine, I’ll call the council, and call [Distributor] and the ombudsman to sort this out!”

Me: “That’s fine. You have a nice day, then.”

(I hung up the phone on her at that point. I honestly don’t know what she expected the company I work for to do, especially when I kept telling her she had to contact [Distributor] to sort it out, as we had no control over it!)

(I work for several years as the office manager of an upscale spa. Like many places that offer massage, we occasionally get phone calls from people asking — whether as a “joke” or seriously — if we provide “happy endings.” Normally, it is a matter of setting the caller straight and hanging up. Being a spa in an upscale neighborhood, we’ve never had anyone actually walk in off the street and ask that question. One afternoon, I’m in my office doing paperwork. With the door open, I can clearly hear the receptionist checking guests in and out.) 

Receptionist: “Hello, sir! I can get you checked out here. I hope you enjoyed your appointment with us today!”

Customer: *grumbles* “Not really.”

Receptionist: “Oh? I apologize if your experience wasn’t up to our standards; was there something we could have done differently?”

Customer: *mumbles something I can’t make out*

Receptionist: “I’m sorry? What was that?”

Customer: *suddenly louder and sounding very indignant* “Why didn’t she massage my d**k?!”

Receptionist: *stunned silence*

(I’m already halfway out of my seat, ready to go back her up if needed, when she recovers.)

Receptionist: “BECAUSE THAT’S ILLEGAL!”

(I walk into the lobby in time to see a red-faced, middle-aged man practically throw a handful of cash at her to pay for the massage and run out of the spa.) 

Me: “Wow.”

Receptionist: “I’m so sorry I yelled, [My Name]! He just caught me off guard.”

Me: “It’s all right, as long as you’re okay. Did he actually give you enough for the massage before he panicked and ran away?”

Receptionist: *counts the cash* “Yep, and look at that, he generously included a $40 tip for his therapist!”

(We added the $40 to his therapist’s tips for the day and made a note about the guy’s behavior in his file. He never came back.)