(I order Venetian blinds online for my house, through a company that has a store in my city. Normally, I go to stores to support local employment, but the store is in the middle of the city with a large building site close by, which limits traffic and parking, and it’s just before Christmas. I also have a back injury, so I am happy to have the heavy boxes delivered to my door. There is a very good online-only sale, and the store quite often does not have what I need in stock. I check their return policy, and it says that returns and exchanges are available through its stores, which is fortunate, because they send me the wrong blinds. I take them in and explain to the cashier that I have ordered timber blinds online and they have sent me the — cheaper and lower quality — faux timber blinds. She checks the invoice and the blinds and tells me that I have received what I paid for.)

Me: “No, I ordered timber blinds, and these are faux timber.”

(She checks again.)

Cashier: “This is a very low price for timber blinds.” *gives me suspicious look over glasses*

Me: “I know; that’s why I bought them.”

Cashier: “We don’t sell timber blinds for this price.”

Me: “Yes, you do, because I bought them, and that’s what I paid. It’s on the invoice.”

(The conversation follows same circle for about five minutes.)

Cashier: “All right, I can give you a refund.”

Me: “I don’t want a refund; I just want to exchange them for the blinds that I was supposed to get.”

Cashier: “This is just how we process exchanges.”

Me: “Oh, okay, then.”

(The cashier processes the refund, then enters the timber blinds into the register.)

Cashier: “That will be [several hundred dollars].”

Me: “No, I am exchanging them, not buying them. I’m not paying anything extra.”

Cashier: “You paid for faux timber blinds; timber blinds are more expensive.”

(My head almost explodes as we repeat the conversation from earlier.)

Me: “Please get your manager.”

(The cashier goes to get the manager and must explain the situation while they are on the way back to the register.)

Manager: “The timber blinds are more expensive than the faux timber blinds, so that is why there is a price difference.”

Me: “Look at my invoice; it says, ‘timber blinds.’ Your company sent me faux timber blinds. I have paid for timber blinds and I just want to exchange the ones that were sent to me by mistake for the ones that I actually ordered.”

Manager: *looks at invoice* “That’s a very low price for timber blinds.” *gives me suspicious look over glasses*

Me: *losing it and raising my voice* “Yes, it is. That’s why I bought them. This is not hard. You have my invoice. You can see that I bought timber blinds. I just want the product that I paid for.”

(The manager gives the cashier the signal to process the sale at the lower price, and the rest of the transaction proceeds as it should have done at the start. It’s very quiet, except for the one statement the manager directs at me.)

Manager: “I don’t know why you didn’t just come into the store in the first place.”

(I work in a call centre for a company that arranges hire vehicles for people who have been in no-fault accidents. As such, we handle sensitive information. We work with a specific hire company. Recently, we have enjoyed getting calls from people claiming to be from the hire company’s “archive team,” which doesn’t exist. They are clearly trying to obtain information. One day this happens:)

Me: “Good morning. You’re through to [My Name] at [Company]; how can I help?”

Person: “Good morning. I’m calling on behalf of a mutual client.”

Me: “Can I take the client’s registration?”

Person: *registration*

Me: “Thank you. Can I also take your name and where you’re calling from?”

Person: “[Person] from [Hire Company] archive team.”

Me: *immediately on guard* “Hello. Unfortunately, you’re not listed on the file so I can’t discuss the claim with you, but I see my colleague asked you to email us… five minutes ago, actually. Did you do that?”

(She hangs up. I write my notes into the file and send an email to my team advising they’re at it again. Next call I receive…)

Me: “Good morning. You’re through to [My Name] at [Company]; how can I help?”

Person: “Good morning. I’m calling on behalf of a mutual client.”

Me: *recognising their voice* “Can I take the registration, please?”

Person: “Yes, it’s [same info as before].”

Me: “Oh, hi. I think it was me you were speaking to just a few moments ago; is that [Person]?”

(She hung up. Honestly, how stupid do you have to be to try it a third time, minutes later, even when it’s obvious we’re onto you?)

(I work at my campus library. This girl comes in at five, and I see her log into a computer and print a document. She then comes back in at nine, distressed.)

Me: “Hi. How can I help you?”

Student: “I can’t log on. I lost my password. Can you give me my password?”

Me: “I am sorry, but the library doesn’t give out passwords. I can log you in as a guest, if you like. Otherwise, I would check with Student Help Desk, since they are in charge of accounts.”

Student: “No! I want my password. Why can’t I get it?”

Me: “I do apologize, but our system doesn’t tell us student passwords. Those are handled by the Student Help Desk. You would have to go there for assistance. I can log you in on a guest account, but I cannot retrieve individual passwords.”

Student: “Where are they located? What are their hours?”

Me: “They are located in the science building. Here are their hours.”

(I hand her a sheet with their listed hours.)

Student: “They are closed at nine! They aren’t even open now. Can you go over there and open it for me?”

Me: “I am sorry, but I didn’t make their hours, and I do not work for them. You could always check with them tomorrow.”

Student: *glares* “That’s so stupid. If they are closed, why can’t you just go over and open it for me?! Now I can’t print my paper!” *storms out*

(I work at a place that is well-known for its bridal registries. In order to find the registry, I have to know the full — first and last — name of the registrant, with correct spelling.)

Me: “What’s the last name of the bride or groom?”

Customer: “[Common Last Name].”

Me: “Okay, what’s the first name?”

Customer: “Robin.”

Me: “Robin with an I or with a Y?”

Customer: *looks as me as if I’m stupid for a moment* “With an I!”

(I look up the name, but as it’s a nationwide database going back ten years, it’s not uncommon to have a dozen or even more than a hundred brides with the same name.)

Me: “What’s the wedding date?”

Customer: *getting annoyed* “Some time in September!”

(That still leaves two registries. Instead of asking more questions, I quickly look up their locations. If one of them is local, it’s probably the right one. Neither is.)

Me: “Okay, is Robin getting married in New York or Nevada?”

Customer: “Neither! She lives here in town and has all her life. I’m her mother’s best friend, so I know that. The wedding is in [Nearby Town]! I don’t understand why this is so hard!”

(I do a little backtracking and try spelling Robin as “Robyn” and then just type in “Rob,” in case her name is really Robbin or something similar. Nothing pops up.)

Me: “Sorry this is taking so long, but I don’t have any Robin [Last Name] getting married here in the metro in September. Do you know the groom’s name?”

Customer: “NO! I know they’re registered here! Just find the registry!”

Me: “I apologize, but I am not having any luck with this search. Just double-checking, her name is R-O-B-I-N, and her last name is spelled [only spelling of very common Last Name]?”

Customer: “I already told you that!”

Me: “Then I’m sorry, but I can’t help you any further. Either they have not registered, or she’s registered under some other name. Maybe you could call someone and double-check? Sometimes brides register under their married names.”

(The customer walks away in a huff, muttering about bad customer service. Ten minutes later, I am helping another person when the original customer cuts to the front of the line. Wanting to avoid a scene, I finish my customer and gesture to another employee to take over my register so I can help her.)

Me: “What can I do for you?”

Customer: “Sarah. Sarah [Last Name]. Robin is her mother.”

(I found the registry right away!)

(As I’m entering the apartment after my shift, my roommate walks towards me, red as a tomato.)

Roommate: “Um, [My Name], could you drive me to the emergency room?”

Me: “Why?”

Roommate: “Something, uh, got stuck…”

Me: “What?”

Roommate: “I was horny and…”

Me: “Please, I don’t need the details. Look, I know you and your girlfriend broke up. I know you’re frustrated, but this is ridiculous. As if keeping me awake at night with your moaning wasn’t bad enough. After you get this problem fixed, stop the pity party.”

(My roommate is not a bad person, but can be such an idiot. Turns out he had one of his girlfriend’s dildos up there. I introduced him to my cousin a month later. She’s pretty good at keeping him from hurting himself.)