(In the town where I lived, a bank changed its phone number, and the new number happened to be very similar to mine. This sparked all kinds of problems. I kept coming home from work to messages – many of which contained very sensitive information such as bank account numbers, cards details and pin numbers. I deleted them immediately and contacted the bank to tell them. The bank manager apologised and said he would send out a letter to all their customers telling them to be extra careful when dialling but also to remind them not to leave sensitive information on any messages. Despite the manager’s best efforts, I keep getting calls and coming home to messages. I couldn’t change my number because the phone company would’ve charged me for it. I figure that the customers would eventually get the message. Besides, most of the callers are polite, if a little embarrassed when I tell them they have to wrong number. However, one morning I get roused at 8am by a phone call. I am still half asleep when I answer.)

Me: “Uh … hello …?”

Woman: “That’s a terrible way to answer a call. So rude.”

Me: “Who is this?”

Woman: “My name is Mrs [Name]. I need to make an appointment to discuss my savings account with you-”

Me: “Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve got the wrong number. This isn’t [bank].”

Woman: “How DARE you interrupt me! Are you new?”

Me: “I don’t work at [bank]. You have the wrong number.”

Woman: “Look just make me the appointment this is very important.”

Me: “You have called a private residence. This is not [bank]. You need to hang up and try again.”

Woman: “You insolent little b****! I demand your name!”

Me: “I’m not giving you my name. You’ve got the wrong number!

Woman: “You’re just saying that to cover your a**. Typical young person – you’re all lazy and rude. Get me your manager now!”

Me: “This. Isn’t. [Bank]. You have called a private residence. The new number for the bank is one digit different to mine. You have the wrong number. I cannot get the manager because I am not in the bank – I am in my house. You are not speaking to a [bank] employee.”

Woman: “That’s it! I’m going to make a complaint and get you fired! You are a rude and insolent little b****.”

Me: “Good luck with that. I don’t even work for [bank]. Like I keep telling you, you have the wrong number.”

Woman: “How dare you! That’s it; I’m coming down to the bank. I know the branch manager personally. I hope you enjoy the unemployment line.”

Me: “I hope you enjoy trying to fire somebody who doesn’t even work for the bank.”

*I hang up*

Quote:
(I was working in the collections department for an energy supplier when I got a call from a woman regarding a letter she said she received. She said she had a question about it. She gave me a reference number and I pulled up the account.)

Me: “I’ve got the account up. May I ask your name?

*The customer gives me her name and it is the same as on the account. I then ask her to confirm address and DOB, both of which match what is on the account.*

Me: “Thank you for confirming those details. What was your query?”

Woman: “Yes, what is this letter all about?”

Me: “There is a balance on the account. It needs to be paid. You owe [amount].”

Woman: “No, I don’t.”

Me: “I’m not seeing any payments since [date].”

Woman: “No, you don’t understand. This isn’t my account.”

Me: “Your name is on the account and you confirmed the address.”

Woman: “No, no. This letter isn’t for me. This is my friend’s account. My name is [different name].”

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, I can no longer discuss the account with you without the customer’s permission. Is the customer there?”

Woman: “You just broke the data protection law. You disclosed my friend’s details.”

Me: “Actually, madam, you committed fraud.”

Woman: “No I didn’t. I never said I was the customer. You broke the law, now you’re going to lose your job. I’m going to report you.”

Me: “Actually, madam, when I asked what your name was, you told me it was [customer’s name], when I asked what your address was, you said it was [customers address] and when I asked you to confirm your date of birth, you told me it was [customer’s DOB]. You pretended to be your friend, which is fraud.”

Woman: “No I didn’t. If you heard that, that’s your fault. I’m going to report you!”

Me: “You are welcome to report this to the data commissioner. I’ll get you the details if you like. We are obligated to report this incident as well, and will send the recording of this call to prove what was said.”

Woman: “How dare you say that to me! Get me your manager!”

*I get my manager, who takes over the call. My manager promises to listen to the call and arranged to call the woman back once she has done so. Later that day, my manager came and spoke to me. She listened to the call and confirmed that the customer definitely committed fraud – she clearly said her name, address and DOB was the customer’s. My manager gave me an anti-fraud form to fill in so it could be passed onto the police. During the call the woman gave me her full name and she gave my manager several phone numbers when they arranged the call back, one of which was a work number. My manager also got the woman’s address because the customer wanted me to write her a formal apology for accusing her of committing fraud. All these details went on the form we sent to the police.*

(I am buying baby supplies.)

Cashier: “Wipes, diapers, powder. What does a man need all this for?”

Me: “My daughter isn’t old enough to be potty trained yet.”

Cashier: “Surely it’s a wife’s job to handle the baby. Where’s your wife? Why aren’t you working?”

Me: “He’s at home with our daughter, and I’m on paternity leave.”

Cashier: “He? Your wife is a HE?!”

Me: “My husband is a he.”

(The cashier practically jumped away from me, sneering, and crossed her heart. She then refused to sell me anything, and I asked for a manager. When he came, she spoke directly to him, completely ignoring my existence. After she was finished, the manager “queer high-fived” me and gave me an employee discount. The cashier looked like she was about to collapse and asked to be excused. When I dropped by a few weeks, I was told she decided to leave due to a “conflict of interest”.)

(I have gone into my mobile network’s store about an issue with my phone. The woman serving me has asked to look at it. She has had it for about a minute when:)

Me: “Why are you on my Facebook?”

Employee: *not taking her eyes off my phone screen* “I’m not, sir. Why would you suggest such thing?”

Me: “I can see my dog reflecting in your glasses. It’s my current profile picture.”

(The woman freezes and quickly hands my phone back.)

Employee: “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Me: “Getting me your manager?”

(I’m a newly graduated university student looking for my own place to live so I don’t have to move back to my hometown. I go to one of the local letting agencies, all of which are within a minute walk of each other. The first place has a young woman there to talk to; she already looks disinterested in me.)

Worker: “How can I help?”

Me: “I’m looking for a place to rent. My budget is allowing for between £250-350 a month for the rent alone. I don’t really mind about the place itself or how many rooms or anything, just so long as it can fit within that budget.”

Worker: *scoffs* “Okay, well I’ll look up those details for you now.”

(She looks up the information…)

Worker: “Right, so, I’ve found a flat that’s £500 a month. This looks pretty decent right?”

Me: “I guess it does, but like I said, my budget would only allow a maximum of £350. I couldn’t afford that right now.”

Worker: “Okay, well, here’s a place that is £350.” *gives info on it*

Me: “Yeah, that seems okay; when would I be able to view it?”

Worker: “We can book you in for a viewing next Monday at 11:30 am. Would that be okay?”

Me: “Yeah, that’ll be fine.”

Worker: “You’ll need to phone us on that day, a half hour before, to confirm that you can make the appointment.”

Me: “Oh… Um, sorry, but that will be a little awkward for me. I’m on a PAYG phone and have no credit at the minute, and I’m not paid until the end of the month. Would no one here be able to phone me instead?”

Worker: *scoffs again* “Um, no, we don’t do that here. If you can’t phone us to confirm, then we can’t book a viewing for you.”

(I just left, choosing not to call her some choice words. I walked literally down the road to the next agency, and I was welcomed quite warmly by a nice elderly lady who actually listens to my price limit at the start. She made a point of only looking in the “nice area of town,” because I certainly look like a “nice lad.” I know it was kind of cheap flattery, but it wasn’t a swindle, it was honestly further into the less rough areas of town. She even made a point of calling the landlord right then and organising a viewing just two hours after my meeting with her. A week later, and I was all signed up at a studio flat at £285 a month, well within my budget. Honestly, it was no wonder that the first place I went to was empty, but the second place with the nice lady already had two couples talking to other advisers.)