I work at a recreation complex with tennis courts.
Caller: “I want to book a court for [five days in the future] at 2:00 pm.”
Me: “Yes, we have some availability.”
Caller: “Will it be raining at 2:00 pm that day?”
Me: “The weather report says it’s unlikely.”
Caller: “Yes, but I need you to tell me for sure.”
Me: “There’s no way we can know that for sure.”
Caller: “Don’t you guys have a radar or something?”
My brother and dad have an ongoing rivalry where each hates to admit that the other one was right about something. My brother and I are going to see our local Major League Baseball team play one evening. We live outside the city where it’s warmer, but the city itself is freezing, even in summer.
Dad: “You guys should wear pants to the game tonight and bring sweatshirts. It’s going to be freezing.”
I wear jeans and a sweatshirt, but my brother sticks to shorts and a T-shirt. At one point, the fog rolls in along with the wind and it gets cold. I look over at my brother, and he’s clearly cold.
Me: “Are you cold?”
Brother: “Yes.”
Me: “As an Eagle Scout, I’m always prepared, so I brought an extra jacket. Want it?”
Brother: “Sure, thanks.”
Me: “Are you going to be a good Eagle Scout, as well, and bring your own next time?”
Brother: “No.”
Me: “Why?”
Brother: “Because then I would have to admit that Dad was right, and I don’t like it when I have to admit that Dad was right.”
When I was in college, I took a job selling tickets at the university’s hockey arena. University staff and students got in for free when they showed their university ID, but everyone else naturally had to pay for their tickets. I’m working one night before a game when an older man — maybe in his late fifties or early sixties — and a young boy step up to my window.
Me: “Hi, welcome to [Arena]! One adult, one child today?”
Man: *With a friendly smile* “Yep! Taking my grandson out to his first [University] hockey game! Do you still allow staff and students in for free?”
Me: “Yes, if you can show your university ID card.”
Man: “Well, I have my student ID with me, but I graduated thirty-five years ago. I don’t suppose it would still be valid, would it?”
He gives a polite chuckle.
Me: “Um… I don’t think so, but I could ask my manager. She might be willing to make an exception.”
The man tries to stop me from going to get my manager, but I get her anyway. My manager ends up letting him get a free ticket for holding onto his university card for so long. I hand over their tickets and my manager and I tell him to enjoy the game.
Man: “Just to be clear, I was only joking about getting a free ticket, but thank you!” *Turns to his grandson* “[Grandson], how about we run to the merchandise store before the game and get you a souvenir?”
The man and his grandson came to a few more games that year, but he never tried to jokingly ask for a free ticket again. I want to stress that he was very clearly joking the first time, too, and not just pretending it was a joke like so many NAR customers. The smile on his and his grandson’s face every time they came up to the ticket counter was enough thanks for all of us ticket sellers.
I work at a major sports arena. I once had a customer come up to me yelling about how the men’s washroom was out of toilet paper and how unacceptable it was for that to happen before the game had even started.
One: I’m female. Two: I’m a bartender.
After apologizing, I had to actually tell this man that it was out of my control and that with over four-thousand employees, I’m only responsible for pouring drinks. He still told me it was my fault and that I should do something about it.
It’s idiots like that that make an awesome job so very annoying.
I work at a football stadium as an usher, mainly giving directions to customers. Most of them are okay, but we get the odd one who gets aggressive and angry, especially if they’ve been drinking.
The toilets are placed around the first floor of the stadium, about 100 meters apart, with male and female toilets alternating. I am stationed outside the female toilet when a male customer asks for directions to the male toilet. I point to the left.
Me: “Just down that way.”
Customer: “How far is it?”
Me: “About a hundred meters.”
He starts yelling.
Customer: “What?! Why is it so far? How come the male toilet is so far away when the female toilet is right here?”
Me: “Every second toilet is a men’s toilet so—”
Customer: “It’s discrimination! I’m not going all the way down there!”
There is also another men’s toilet down the stairs opposite me, but I usually don’t suggest it first because most customers seem to hate using stairs. I realise that some people have genuine reasons for not wanting to or not being able to, but I doubt that is the case here.
Me: “Well, if you head down those stairs, just one flight down—”
Customer: “I’m not using stairs!”
Me: “…”
Customer: “Well?”
Me: “The men’s toilets are located down those stairs on the landing or a hundred meters to the left.”
He kept yelling and spluttering for a minute or two before, presumably, his bladder got the better of him and he headed off to the left. I don’t know how he expected me to move the toilets closer for him with my mind.
