I used to work in a call center for a UK car insurance provider which was also a supermarket. One day, I received the best call ever.

Me: “Hi, you’re through to [My Name] at [Company]. How can I help you today?”

Caller: “Yeah, hi, [My Name]. I need to remove a driver from both cars.”

Me: “No problem.”

I go through account security and explain the increases to her premiums.

Caller: “Oh, that’s all fine and dandy.”

Me: “Okay, who are we taking off of these policies?”

Caller: “I want to remove Alistair, my husband. Given that I’ve just gotten home from work and he’s in bed with another woman, I think he can go spin. He pissed off in my Audi, and I’ll be calling the police as soon as he’s uninsured.”

Sh*****t.

Me: “Okay. Removing your husband will definitely put your premiums up, and if he is stopped, you’ll need to pay to get the Audi out of the impound.”

Caller: “Oooh, it’ll be worth it, [My Name]. That saggy sack of s*** will rue the day he messed with me.”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t think he’s made a smart choice here. Anyway, your new payments will be [double her previous payment] per month.”

Caller: “S***. So, he’s still costing me.”

Me: “Yeah, having a spouse or partner will normally lower the cost. So, let us know straight away if someone moves in.”

She proceeds to add her best friend as a cohabiting partner.

Me: “I’ll waive your admin fees, too, and your new premiums are [10% lower than the original price].”

Caller: “Brilliant! Thanks, [My Name]!”

She went on to leave me a five-star review and write a letter to the head of our department about the great service.

Also, her (ex) husband got pulled over, and the police called us to ask if he was insured.

Godspeed, Angry Lady.

We have a man come into the pub every day and order a house whiskey. He’ll usually have two or three of these and then head on home. As with many of my regulars, I can have their drinks on the bar as soon as they walk through the door.

One particular day, I am busy and working alone behind the bar. [Regular] enters whilst I am serving a party of four and have another two people waiting. I smile politely and greet him.

Me: “I’ll be with you soon.”

When I have rung up the order for the party of four, I promptly move on to the next person. [Regular] coughs.

Regular: “Ahem. Where is mine?”

Me: “I will be as quick as I can. I just need to sort out these people’s drinks.”

Regular: *Shouting* “Is this how you look after loyal regulars?! You’re appalling at your job! Where’s your manager?”

I kept my cool and continued serving the customer who had at this point offered to wait if I wanted to serve [Regular] first, but out of principle, I wouldn’t back down.

I finished their order and grabbed the phone, dialling the number of the owner of the pub. I explained to [Regular] that I was ringing the manager for him.

When she answered, I briefly explained what had happened and passed the phone along to [Regular]. Whilst he was on the phone with [Owner], I prepared his drink and placed it before him.

Now, I can’t be sure what the phone call actually consisted of, but I know he wasn’t happy, so he took his glass of whiskey and walked out of the building, without payment.

He got barred from entering the establishment again and proceeded to spread the rumour around our little village that I was an abusive member of staff who made threats towards him.

Luckily, we have CCTV in the pub, which proved that I had done nothing wrong, but I am glad that I won’t have to serve him again!

An innocuous encounter reminded me of an incident a few years back. Having filled my car up with fuel, on the spur of the moment, I decided to wash it, also. (We’d had some bad weather, but a period of nice weather was now predicted, and it was filthy.)

The automatic car wash was out of order, so I pulled into the bay for the self-service jet wash. I chose the cheapest option as I knew it gave me just enough time to give the car a basic wash, and off I started.

Midway through, I was approached by a lady who ignored the fact I was in the middle of washing my car and, holding out a piece of paper, asked me for directions. I politely asked her to wait a couple of minutes until my time ran out. I had to raise my voice a little as I hadn’t stopped my task and the jet wash was a bit noisy.

I certainly did not speak in anger, and I thought I smiled. But this lady obviously took it the wrong way and went off on me, shouting that I was rude, that there had been no reason for me to shout at her, that she was a lady in distress, etc. I was flabbergasted but, mindful of my time, I just kept going, intending to try and clarify my response once I was done — which would be in less than forty-five seconds now according to the large digital countdown clock.

Before I ran out of time, the lady finished her rant, and stomped off to her car, throwing a “Thanks for nothing” comment over her shoulder, and peeled out of the forecourt.

When I was done, I just stood there for a long moment trying to comprehend what had been going through that lady’s mind. If I’d stopped, I would have had a half-washed car, and I’m sure she wasn’t going to stump up for more time!

Doubly bizarre was that within ten metres was a full forecourt of other people who could have helped, as could the attendants in the station itself.

The incident that brought this to mind? I was approached again and asked a question today whilst washing my car at a different car wash. Before I could even reply, the lady realised and said, “Oh, sorry. It can wait until you’re finished.” And she did wait. Once done, I helped her, she said thanks, and off we both went on our way

The city I live and work in is one of the largest in the UK and has several universities in it. I work in the city centre and live close enough to commute on foot. I usually walk home on a major route that, if I were to follow it past my street and on for another half a mile or so, would lead to the largest and most famous of these universities. 

It’s spring, and there are a lot of potential students coming to the city to look at the different university campuses, take tours of the buildings, and generally try to prepare for their future. The city can be hard to navigate, so I like to keep an eye out for them and give directions where I can.

One day, I am at a point on my walk home that’s almost equidistant between the largest university and the two universities nearest to where I work. I spot two confused-looking young people. They are dressed in an eclectic mix of clothing that gives that hint of trying too hard to be quirky. One is looking around, looking half-asleep and helpless. The other is glowering with tightly folded arms and an about-to-ask-for-the-manager expression of rage.

Being too nice for my own good, I ask if they are lost.

Sleepy: “Yeah… We’re trying to get to the university.”

Me: “Okay, I can give you directions. Which one?”

I can almost hear the row of dots coming off them.

Sleepy: “…”

Grumpy: “…”

Sleepy: “There are two?”

Me: “Well, I’d say there are three in walking distance of here. What’s the name of the one you want to go to?”

Sleepy looks to Grumpy for help, but Grumpy just harrumphs.

Me: “Is it [University #1]?”

Sleepy: “Uhhhhh…”

Me: “[University #2]?”

Sleepy: “Uhhhhh…”

Me: “[University #3]?”

Sleepy: “…What was the second one again?”

Me: “[University #2]?”

Sleepy: “What was the first one?”

Me: “[University #1]?”

Sleepy: “What was the second one?”

This goes on for some time. Grumpy is no help, clearly getting angrier and angrier in the manner of a toddler whose mother is spending too long chatting outside the supermarket. 

Me: “Look, do you want to call somebody to ask? One of your friends or your family, maybe?”

Sleepy: “No! Our parents said we wouldn’t be able to do this by ourselves! We have to do it by ourselves! Help us!”

Me: *Ignoring the irony* “Well, can you remember anything about the university you’re trying to go to? What course you were interested in? What the logo looks like?”

Sleepy: “It’s in a train station.”

Me: “…Do you mean the train station called ‘University’?”

This is a mainline train station within the campus of the largest university — the one in the direction I’m walking.

Sleepy: “Yes, the university is in it. I think it must be the biggest station in the city.”

Me: “No, University Station is on the campus of [University #1]. Is that the one you want to go to?”

Sleepy, confused beyond the ability to speak, looks at Grumpy. Grumpy does an eye-roll the size of a planetary orbit, grudgingly pulls a sheet of paper from somewhere, and hands it to Sleepy. Sleepy holds it out to me. It’s a flyer for an open day at [University #1]. 

I decide that these two can’t be left to their own devices. I’ll help them find the campus and, hopefully, somebody there will help them get home after they do whatever they are going to do there.

Me: “Okay, I’m heading in the direction you need to go in for [University #1], so how about you walk with me? I can’t go all the way to the campus with you, but I can get you on the right street.”

They both agree, and we set off. I think they might like to chat about the city, but my attempts at conversation are met with looks of terror from Sleepy and glares from Grumpy. After we cross a major road at a pedestrian crossing, they decide to walk about five feet behind me, and every time I turn around to check on them, they are staring fixedly at me. I notice other pedestrians and even drivers giving us weird looks.

By the time we get near my building, I am seriously regretting trying to be helpful. I am at the point where I can safely part ways with them, though.

Me: “To get to the campus, you just keep going down this road. Walk another ten minutes or so. Don’t take any turns or cross the road. You’ll see a big building on the left with a huge banner hanging up on the front of it, saying what it says on your flyer. You can’t miss it. Go into that building and ask one of the staff where you should go. Okay?”

Sleepy: “Yeah.”

Me: “Any questions?”

Sleepy: “Uhhhh… no.”

Not foolish enough to expect thanks at this point, I walk up a side street, cross, go through the small gate that leads into the side of my building’s grounds, walk around to the front of the building, and take out my keys to go into the foyer.

Then, I turn my head and realise that the two have followed me.

Sleepy: “Is this the university?”

Me: “No. Go back to the corner where I spoke to you earlier, and then walk in the direction I told you to.”

Sleepy: “Oh! You were giving us directions!”

Grumpy: *To Sleepy* “Ugh, why are we even here?”

I just went inside.

That was a few years ago. I’ve helped out countless other visitors to the city since, and I’ve never met anybody who had as much trouble as those two. I sometimes wonder if they got into university, and if so, what they studied. I also sometimes wonder if they are still shuffling helplessly around, looking for something that might be a train station, hassling innocent bystanders, and avoiding calling their parents.

I think they might be.

This one is a small victory but was super satisfying for me, so I wanted to share.

I worked for a large international accounting firm with offices all over the country. Our boss was well-liked until she became the boss. She was a smiling assassin type who only cared about her position and looking good in front of the higher-ups. She was all about “the numbers”, even if what we had to do to get to those numbers didn’t make sense.

My team — about twelve of us — was primarily based in the London office, but once a week (per my contract and everyone else’s), we were required to work in a remote office ages from London. This place was miserable. It was a building in the middle of nowhere, with one tiny corner shop for snacks, next to a motorway. The closest place to eat was a fifteen-minute drive away. We all hated it. But hey ho, it was only once a week.

When [Boss] got promoted, her sole life mission was to cut costs. She tried everything from stopping overtime, to telling us we had no stationery budget for pens and had to take from other teams stores, to allowing only one meal on social drinks — and making comments at the meal when someone chose theirs to be the more expensive option, e.g., “Are you really choosing that? It’s expensive. I’m not sure we are going to have enough budget.” This is considering that all other teams went for large fancy dinners all the time, unlimited drinks, etc.

At one point, [Boss] decided that the miserable location should be our primary office and she wanted us all to go there four days a week instead of one. All but one of our team was living in London. This meant, for me, a two-and-a-half-hour journey one way instead of an hour. After a few months, this really took its toll. The assistant manager (a friend of mine) told me [Boss] had said in passing to him that this office was less of a cost on our team budget than the London office. What a shock.

I decided to speak to Human Resources and see what my options were — maybe get an exception? Well… it turned out we had a policy that anything over your normal travel hours to the closest office location to your home could be used as your working hours. That meant the extra hour and a half each way would be considered working hours, so I could arrive at 10:30 am instead of 9:00 and leave at 4:00 pm instead of 5:30.

Also, if trains and things were delayed or cancelled, that would also be included in working hours. This happened often as this place was in the middle of nowhere, so trains were infrequent, so I would often arrive at 11:30. I forwarded the emails with HR to [Boss] and explained how I would be complying with this policy. She agreed — BUT, in a meeting, she tried to tell me this was an exception for me and to not tell anyone else.

Well… I told everyone else.

And we all began complying with the policy. This meant we spent less time in the office, and productivity dwindled. [Boss] mentioned this a lot in meetings. I would often (respectfully) point out that it didn’t make sense to force us to travel to this office, and I would point out its effects. I was the main one speaking up about this.

A few months later, [Boss] told me I could go to five days in the London office, but again, this was a “special arrangement” for me, she “appreciated me”, and she was “making accommodations only for me”. She also said she would tell everyone I had “special circumstances that allowed me this arrangement”, and I had keep our conversation confidential. I honestly think she just got fed up with me pointing out how our productivity was lower only because she made us travel there four days a week.

Of course, I complied, but the team noticed I wasn’t with them. Let’s just say that it caused a bit of a riot. I didn’t say anything, but they figured it out themselves — no special circumstances here. Slowly but surely, one after the other, my colleagues started joining me in London — getting their own “special arrangements” with [Boss].

At some point, the majority of us were in London. Eventually, it was just [Boss] and the only other local colleague at that office while we were in London. We all had a good chuckle about when [Boss] would cave. It took a good few weeks.

Then, we got an email informing us that our permanent location going forward would be London (five days a week), and the one local employee to that terrible office would work from home and come in once a month.

It may have happened anyway, but I’d like to think that me speaking to HR and finding that policy at least had a hand in getting us moved back to London.

As for [Boss], I could go on about so many stories with her, but I did eventually leave (for other reasons directly related to her). Unfortunately, she is still in the same position at that company. I do however enjoy seeing her checking my LinkedIn profile from time to time — and hopefully noticing that since I left I have gone from a junior to the same position as her.