Customer: “I have an extended warranty for my shredder here.”

Me: “Okay.” *I look at receipt* “Um, this is from 2006.”

Customer: “No, it’s from 2009.”

Me: “Nope, this is from 2006. See the date here, how it says, ‘09/01/06’? That means it was purchased on September 1, 2006.”

Customer: “No, the ‘09’ is the year. The year is listed first.”

Me: “No, the year is last.” *I grab a recently-printed receipt to show her* “See?”

Customer: “Then it must have changed.”

Me: “It didn’t change. But, either way, even if this was from 2009, it’s still too long ago; the extended warranty is only good for an extra year.”

Customer: “No! This shredder is warrantied for five years, so this gives me six years total! So, even if it was purchased in 2006, you can still use it! It’s good for six years!”

Me: “2006 was nine years ago. It’s 2015.”

Customer: “It doesn’t matter! It’s from 2009!”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not. It’s from 2006. I haven’t even actually seen these warranty pamphlets, and I’ve been working here for seven years.”

Customer: “Well, that’s weird, because it’s from 2009!”

Me: “I don’t know what else to tell you… because it’s from 2006.”

Customer: “I don’t know what else to tell you, either, because it’s from 2009! The year is listed first!”

Nearby Associate: “No, the year is always last. I’ve actually never seen the year listed first. Anywhere.”

(We are an all-girls school with a uniform that includes optional black tights. As part of the policy, if you wear black tights, they must NOT have ladders or holes. My best friend is known for not having much common sense. She and I have just returned from a PE lesson, both very tired and out of breath, and are getting changed back into uniform, when I notice that she has a ladder in her tights.)

Me: “[Friend]! There’s a ladder in your tights; you might get coded.”

Friend: “I’m sure no one will notice. It’s fine.”

Me: “No, we have [Strict Teacher, notorious for random uniform checks] next period. Just go without. You have shorts to wear under your skirt, right?”

Friend: “Yeah, but it’s fine. Watch this.”

(She begins to turn her tights the other way out, so that the label is on the outside, and puts them on again.)

Me: “Wha… What are you doing?”

Friend: “See? I turn them inside out, and the ladder will be on the insi… Oh.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “I’ll go without.”

Customer: “I sent my [item] off to you over two weeks ago for repair and still haven’t received it back. I want to know when I will get it.”

Me: “Let me just have a look at your details.” *pause* “Okay, it seems we sent it via courier last week and it is meant to be next-day, so I will just check the tracking for you.” *pause* “It says that the courier was unable to deliver, as you were not in, so they would have left a card, instead. They made a second attempt, but unfortunately, they were unable to deliver for the same reason.”

Customer: “That is a lie. I am unemployed, so I am always in, and I have not received any notes through my door.”

Me: “I am very sorry about that. Could I just check that the driver was in the right place? The photo they have taken shows a block of flats with three floors, a blue door, and [road sign]?”

Customer: “Yes, that is right, but they did not turn up.”

Me: “It may be that they had trouble getting in or finding the right door. Is it a standard buzzer system, or is there a specific way you need to get in?”

Customer: “We have buzzers, but mine is turned off as I do not like to be disturbed.”

Me: “Ah, that may be why, then. If you like, I can rearrange delivery for tomorrow, and if you give me an email address or mobile number we can ask them to send you a message with an hour time slot in the morning.”

Customer: “Can you tell them to come at 12:30?”

Me: “Sorry, we are not involved with planning the routes; as they make so many deliveries a day, it just depends on where you live compared with the other customers. That is why they give you an hour slot in the morning, so you aren’t stuck waiting all day.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. If I give you my landline number, can you get them to call me when they are outside? I do not want them having my mobile or email address.”

Me: “I don’t think they are able to do that, as the only customer details we are able to put in are mobile-format numbers and email addresses. But if you would be able to turn your buzzer on tomorrow, then you will be able to get it back.”

Customer: “I already told you, I don’t want to be disturbed, and I am not turning it back on for them to deliver it. Get me back my [item].”

Me: “If you are unwilling to turn on the buzzer so that the courier can request to be let in, I can either rearrange it for tomorrow and you will need to stare out of the window all day or call us to ask for the new delivery slot and watch out for them.”

Customer: “I am not calling you again to find out when they are coming. Make them call my landline.”

Me: “Again, I am unable to enter landline number; it must be mobile-format. If you do not wish to do that, then you can go to their depot.”

(Her depot turned out to be ten miles away, but she decided that, as she had a car, it would be easier for her to go there, rather than turn her buzzer on to let the delivery driver in.)

Me: *over intercom* “Missing driver’s license for [Female First Name], missing driver’s license for [Female First Name]. Come to the help desk to collect your driver’s license.”

Middle-Aged Female Customer: *a few minutes later* “Hi, I’m here to pick up a driver’s license?”

Me: “Okay. What is your relationship with the license holder? Mother? Aunt? Cousin?”

Middle-Aged Female Customer: “Huh?”

Me: “This license shows a girl of [younger age], and you don’t look like her. So, how do you know her?”

Middle-Aged Female Customer: “Why do you care? Just give me the d*** thing!”

Me: *starting to get suspicious* “Wait a minute. Let me check something with my manager.”

(I pretend to talk with a manager over the phone, while really just stalling for time. Sure enough, the real license holder comes up within a minute. She looks exactly like the picture from the license.)

Me: *hanging up* “Hello, are you [Female First Name]?”

License Holder: “Yes, I’m here to pick up a missing license.”

Middle-Aged Female Customer: “What? You b****! That’s mine!”

License Holder: “Yes, that’s you on the license with multiple piercings, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Completely looks like you.”

(The other customer is brown-haired, with brown eyes.)

Middle-Aged Female Customer: “Argh!”

License Holder: *turns to me* “License, please?”

(Shocker? I was in the same university as her, only two years ahead!)

(I’m eating breakfast in the café of a well-known supermarket chain, chatting with an extremely friendly elderly couple at the next table over who still seem to be waiting for their meals. One of the staff comes over with two jacket potatoes and I am treated to this exchange:)

Waitress: “I’m sorry, again, about having to change your order; unfortunately, we just can’t provide scrambled eggs.”

Wife: “It’s fine; don’t worry! We were happy with the breakfasts, otherwise, though… My husband just cannot eat fried eggs!”

Waitress: “I know. I’m very sorry. I couldn’t tell you the reasons, but it’s an issue of Health and Safety. We’re not allowed to poach or scramble eggs. We can only fry.”

Me: *leaning over* “But isn’t it easier to safely scramble an egg than fry one?”

Waitress: “I know; it’s just what we have to do.”

(I think [Supermarket] needs to revisit their risk assessments if their catering staff aren’t officially trusted with an egg!)