I worked at a motel, and it was my last day.

At about 6 PM, in walks a guy who is DNR’d (Do Not Rent), and I recognize him because I was the one who DNR’d him about a year and a half ago.

He had come in one night smoking in our lobby, and when I asked him to step outside and smoke, he became enraged and threatened me. I called the police, but he bounced before they got here. 

Today, he reeked of alcohol; I could smell it through the night window. He tried to rent a room, and I denied him. He asked why. I told him to talk to a manager about it, and he left. I updated his DNR status and entered a few notes on his folio.

About ten minutes later, Tammy walks in. Tammy was an ex-employee who was fired a little before I was hired here. I haven’t seen her in a bit, and of course, she shows up on my last day to remind me why I’m leaving.

Tammy: “Am I still DNR’d?”

Me: “You are.”

Tammy: “I know my husband is also DNR’d.”

She points outside, and surprise, surprise, it’s the same guy who had just come in. I had no idea they were married, but it figures.

Apparently, Tammy wouldn’t/couldn’t listen long enough to learn basic front desk skills. She annoyed my last general manager because she would always need his help, would become defensive at the smallest of criticisms, and wouldn’t apply herself. One day, he just fired her on the spot and told her not to come back to the property, thus her DNR.

Tammy: “Could someone else rent a room for us?”

I look at her for a moment, like, seriously? What do you think? After a few moments, I tell her no, and she leaves the lobby.

Twenty minutes later, an older woman walks in to rent a room, and my senses are tingling. I ask her if the room is for her, and she says yes, one person, but she asked for a double room. I watch the cameras, and there goes Tammy and her drunk husband lumbering to the room.

I called the police and asked to have them removed. I explained the situation to them, and they were served a no trespass order.

Later, Tammy called and tried to act nice and wants a refund for her aunt, or mom, or whoever that lady was. Apparently, Tammy remembered enough to book the room through an online travel agency, so you know we couldn’t cancel it. I’m not going to OK that even if the travel agent asks. I don’t tell her no, just that she isn’t the registered guest, so I can’t discuss anything with her.

She started rambling about a family emergency or something, which may or may not be true, but it doesn’t change the situation, though. I remained silent, and she then said:

Tammy: “I worked there longer than you have! I know the manager!” *The one who fired her.* “I’m going to report you for I not doing your job!”

Me: “He’s no longer employed here.”

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then tried to act nice again.

I cut her off and asked her if there was anything else I could help her with.

Tammy: “What’s the current manager’s name?”

Me: “I’m not telling you that. You’ve been trespassed from the property. If you call again, I’ll call the police.” *Click.*

Sigh. I’m not going to miss this at all.

I’m a nineteen-year-old woman, works as a host in a restaurant. We have a UFC fight showing, so this night was extremely busy. We had a long waitlist, and when this one man in particular came in to request a table for six. I told him the same thing I tell everyone else when it’s so busy.

Me: “Sir, when the restaurant is full, I can’t give an exact wait time simply because almost everybody is staying to watch the fight.”

Well, for the next two hours, this man hovered over my shoulder, as well as the other two hostesses’ shoulders, asked about any possible open tables every ten minutes, and walked around the restaurant as if a table would magically open.

Two tables finally opened that would seat his party of five (one of his friends left).

Me: “Which table would you prefer? The high top table outside, or the large round booth inside?”

Customer: “I don’t want either of them.”

And then he proceeded to walk around the restaurant, looking for a table again. I looked at my coworkers, who watched the whole thing in disbelief. When he came back, he asked me:

Customer: “What if you split us up?”

Me: “Unfortunately, I don’t have the tables in order to do that.”

Customer: “No. Like two and three?”

Bruh…

This was when my patience with him after two hours finally snapped, and I firmly stated, again:

Me: “I simply do not have the tables.”

I wasn’t rude, but I certainly was firmer.

He then goes and complains to my manager and tells him he felt I attacked him because he simply wanted a table. Thankfully, after explaining the events that led up to the complaint, my manager was on my side.

Later that night, I found out this man ended up wanting two separate booths for him and his friends, which made no sense because I offered him the large round party booth! I don’t know how I managed to have patience with that man for two whole hours…

I’ve just picked up a tech support ticket.

Ticket From A Manager: “I need a new laptop ASAP. The screen has gone fuzzy and isn’t as sharp as colleagues’ with newer equipment.”

I contacted this manager via instant messaging:

Me: “Hi, I’m from IT. Are you able to elaborate on the issues you’re having with your laptop?”

Manager: “All the other managers have silver ones and mine is an old grey one.”

Me: “The silver ones are the last generation; they were replaced with the grey ones, like the one you have.”

Manager: “Can’t you just swap mine for a nice silver one?”

Sigh…

Note for future equipment refreshes: laptops must be shiny, otherwise we’ll never convince users that they’re better than the ones they already have.

I was serving a table of five middle-aged men and women. They looked respectable and seemed sober.

Me: “What would you like to drink, ma’am?”

Customer: “Tequila soda with lime, please.”

Me: “What kind of tequila do you prefer?”

Customer: *With an attitude.* “I asked for vodka, not tequila.”

Surprisingly, no one at the table backed me up; they just sat there silently.

Me: “My apologies, what kind of vodka do you prefer?”

Customer: “Tanqueray.”

I couldn’t tell at that point if she was messing with me or not, but no one was laughing, and it was so satisfying to tell her:

Me: “Tanqueray is not vodka, it’s gin.”

 I’m a web and graphic designer. I designed a flyer for one of my clients. I sent the design to her via email. It’s really hard to match colours from the screen to print, especially since monitor colours don’t match up to their local office printer. Plus, screen colours are in RGB, so there are literally some colours that are unachievable in a physical print. Usually, for exact colour matching, we have to use Pantone swatches, or when they send it for the actual print, they can sort it out and tweak it with the actual technician.

I received a call immediately, and she mentioned that she printed out the flyer on their company’s office printer. I readied myself for the usual spiel about how monitor colours don’t match the printout, etc.

Client: “Hey, I printed this out and the colours don’t match what I see on the screen.”

Me: “Yeah, don’t worry about that. Every monitor is different, and you can’t calibrate it to match your office printer. I used the exact CMYK colours for your logo and fonts.”

Client: “Well, even so, the colours look correct on screen but not when I print it out.”

Me: “I’ve used the exact CMYK colours, so you don’t have to worry about it. Your professional printer will ensure that you get the right colour.”

Client: “Yes, but the whites aren’t white enough.”

I quickly checked my file; did I leave a translucent layer on by accident? No, it was perfectly #FFFFFF. Told her that the white is as white as it can be.

Client: “Well, the white ink is not very white.”

I was stunned. Office and home printers don’t have… white ink. It’s just the white paper. Any white areas are basically just paper that hasn’t been printed on.

I tried hard to explain this concept to her, that printers don’t print the white. Regardless, she insists that they do. I tell her that it cannot be done on an office/home printer; it literally requires a separate offset printing plate that only large commercial printers use. And even then, seldom do people print white at all.

She insists that her printer does print white, and that the design I sent her simply isn’t white enough.

I tell her maybe her paper stock isn’t white? Maybe the paper itself is yellowish?

Client: “No, it’s not my paper, it’s that your white isn’t white enough. Look, I’ve used some of my liquid white-out on the paper. It’s very white. Your design is not printing the white colours properly.”

I was flabbergasted. I couldn’t laugh out loud. She literally used white-out on the print-out and complained that the correction fluid was whiter than the paper. 

Can’t really remember what happened after, but she showed her boss, and he seemed happy with the design, so everything went well, I suppose?