During my graduation internship, I sometimes helped out with tasks that didn’t directly relate to my assignment. One of these tasks was to deliver a completed machine to a client with the little truck the company had.

I had done this once before so I felt comfortable driving it. Near the delivery point, which was about ninety minutes away from the company, the warning light came on that I had to refuel. I was a bit worried since I had not done that before and wondered how different it would be.

Stopping at a pump, I was anxious but still wanted to try and figure it out myself first.

I must have been there for at least ten minutes, circling the little truck, getting increasingly more anxious. I found a small tank, but it seemed way too small and didn’t have that gasoline smell.

There was another bigger tank under the truck bed, but it didn’t have a cap I could screw off; instead, it had a slot for a key. In my mind, this meant it could be dangerous and I could mess up something very badly if I tried to open it without being 100% sure it was what I thought it was.

I was starting to feel more self-conscious about not being able to do this, so I decided to call my internship supervisor for help. They were only able to tell me that the gas tank was on the right side. In hindsight, I could kick myself for not inquiring further since both of my options were on the right side.

I was thinking that potentially I could head into the gas station and ask for help from one of the employees, though this brought on the all too familiar “I don’t wanna be a bother” thoughts.

Time kept on slipping away before I had to bully myself into going into the gas station to ask for help.

I still can barely believe how helpful those employees were, going out of their way and helping me even though they weren’t required to. This very nice employee followed me back out to the little truck and repeated some of the steps I did to determine that the little tank probably wasn’t what I was looking for. He convinced me reassuringly to try and open the bigger tank with one of the keys I had on the keyring. Getting it off, it did have that distinctive smell.

The employee gave me a bit more advice on how I could determine these things in the future and to not worry so much about not knowing it perfectly. He inquired whether I needed any help with actually refueling, but I assured him I could do that.

A little later, coming down from this spike of anxiety, I paid for the gasoline, thanked the employees as wholeheartedly as I could, and went on my way.

I’m extremely thankful for their help, and I am confident that, should I be in a similar situation, I can think back on this event and be able to ask for help more easily.

We receive a citizen survey from some town council to process digitally. There are quite a few typical petty bourgeois complaints, like, “People need to take care of their gardens,” “People aren’t supposed to walk their dog there,” “Too many loiterers,” “Neighbourhood is going down the drains,” blah, blah, blah…

The one taking the cake, however, is a man who clearly stated that his mother was German, his father was English, and that he himself is from England. What was his final remark about his neighbourhood? “Too many imagrants.” [sic]

Right. And what are you, then? Well, I can’t prove it, but probably a racist.

This took place through email, over the span of several days.

Mailer: “I hereby let you know that my client, Mr. John, passed away. Please remove my name and email address from your data.”

Me: “I am so sorry to read that. My condolences. Could you please give us his address and date of birth, so we know which Mr. John passed away?”

Mailer: “With his passing, I am no longer connected to Mr. John. I hereby once again request you remove me from your systems.”

Me: “I will certainly do that, but which Mr. John are we talking about? May I please have his address and date of birth?”

Mailer: “I hereby ask you for a third time to remove my data and to never contact me again. If you do, I will file a complaint with [Government Complaint Agency].”

I go to my manager, at a loss.

Manager: “How many Mr. Johns do we have on file?”

Me: “At least five hundred, excluding different spellings. If it was a less common name, I might have been able to find it out myself, but this is a needle in a haystack.”

Manager: “Well, maybe that person will contact us again when we send him an automated letter or something. Or maybe his children will contact us. You did your best; just let it go.”

Three weeks later, a son mailed us to let us know Mr. Johnson (yes, the mailer had the last name wrong) had passed away three weeks earlier, and lo and behold, the in-file correspondence address was the same as the person who mailed us. We deleted that address with glee.

When you rent flats/apartments, you usually have two keys: a key to your private residence and a key to the front door that you share with different tenants. Private keys can be duplicated anywhere; front door keys need a license.

Our company gave the license to a key maker that has shops all over the Netherlands. They usually ship the key within the week to the person who ordered it. You can also go to a store and get one while you wait. I get a call.

Client: “I ordered a key and they told me it can take up a month before they send me my key!”

Me: “That is indeed a long while. Did they explain to you why it would take so long?”

Client: “They said something about having a backlog. I don’t care about backlogs; I need that key!”

Me: “Well, you can also go to one of their stores and get one there.”

Client: “I don’t have time for that! Don’t you know how busy I am?!”

Me: “I apologise if I insulted you with my suggestion. Let me call the key company and ask what is going on.”

I put the client on hold and call the key company. It turns out that in the past two days, they suddenly had a lot of orders. Because the clients rent our homes, they have to give a reason why they want a new key. Most reasons are “I lost my keys during vacation” or “my child is going to high school and will need their own key”. High school will start one week from now.

I thank the key company for their information and return to my client.

Me: “Thank you for waiting. I found out the reason for their backlog. It turns out that quite a few people returned from vacation and are ordering replacements or extra keys. The key company didn’t expect that and are doing the best they can to handle all the orders as quickly as possible.”

Client: “But I need that key! It is an emergency!”

Me: “There is an emergency? What kind?”

Client: “My daughter needs that key before Monday!”

Me: *Having a hunch* “And why does she need a key?”

Client: “She will be starting high school then!”

Me: “I understand, but how is that an emergency? And why couldn’t you order one sooner?”

Client: “We returned from vacation two days ago; we couldn’t order it any time sooner! So, I expect that key this Friday!”

Me: “I understand you want that, but that is impossible. A lot of people ordered for the same reason, and they ordered it earlier.”

Client: “You don’t have children, do you?”

Me: “Sir, schools closed two months ago for summer vacation. You could have ordered it then or perhaps even earlier. I’m sorry, but this is not an emergency, and you’ll just have to wait your turn.”

Client: “Then let me talk to someone who knows what he’s talking about.”

Me: “You are free to file a complaint through [email address]. I got my information from the key company themselves. If there is any… aaand, he hung up.”

I made a note. I later found out that he called three more times and all my coworkers gave him the same information.

I work for the office and facility management department of an e-commerce company. One of our tasks is to prepare and collect laptops for and from employees. Usually, it goes smoothly, but not with this (now former) coworker who was a Customer Service Agent.

Her contract ended after she was off for a long time on sick leave, so we contacted her to return her laptop. One month passed by with no response. We reached out to her manager and then contacted her personal phone. This communication happens via text messages.

Me: “Hi! How are you? I hope your recuperation is going well. I need to check up on our reminder for you to return your office laptop. May we have the track and trace code?”

Former Coworker: “Hi. It has not been great but also not bad. I sent the laptop back last month, but I lost the code.”

Me: “Oh, that’s unfortunate. Did you email the code to us?

Former Coworker: “No.”

Me: “Do you have any other proof of delivery? A payment receipt or an email, maybe?”

Former Coworker: “No.”

Me: “Maybe a credit or debit card record?”

Former Coworker: “No. I paid in cash.”

Me: “Then we have no proof that you have returned it.”

Former Coworker: “I lost the code. What can I do?”

Me: “I need to consult with Human Resources and Legal, then. It is stated in your contract that you are obliged to return the company’s properties at the end of your contract.”

Former Coworker: “What? So, now I have to contact a lawyer?”

Me: “Well, we need proof that at least the sending process has been done. I mean, it’s kind of like when a customer is sending us their purchases back, right? We need proof of delivery to process their claim.”

Former Coworker: “I am not like a customer! I lost the code, and I cannot find it anywhere! There is nothing else that I can do!”

I was speechless. She worked in the customer service department for two years. You would think that she would understand the importance of a track and trace code. In the end, the company decided that it would cost more to pursue the case than the price of the laptop, so we let her off the hook. She did not even reply to my email when I informed her that the case was closed and she had no more obligation to us.

Related:
Laptop Flop, Part 32
Laptop Flop, Part 31
Laptop Flop, Part 30
Laptop Flop, Part 29
Laptop Flop, Part 28