(I spoke to a customer yesterday. Whilst we’ve done nothing wrong, the customer is adamant we have. I’m representing a branded insurance for people over 50 years old and we get age-entitlement rages all the time. I’ve absolutely bent over backward and broken the rules for this customer and made them aware of this. We have to tell them the right process, but if they kick off then we are able to go against it.)

Customer: “Oh, I’m glad it’s you, [My Name].”

Me: “Hello, Mr. [Customer], we spoke yesterday.”

Customer: “Yes. My relative sent in the documents.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I pull up his details and ask him to do the normal security. He’s already off:)

Customer: “But we spoke yesterday.”

Me: “Sorry, we need to—“

Customer: “Anyway, I sent the emails; have you looked at them yet?”

(I look at his file; no email has been uploaded but that’s no surprise; it’s 11:00 am and we work 8:00 am to 8:00 pm, Monday to Friday with a five-day turnaround. He interrupts me looking for his email to tell me he has also posted something else. I check and there’s no post; since post gets uploaded after 12, I’m not surprised.)

Me: *explains processes for both post and email*

Customer: “You never contact me; it’s always me chasing you. I’m nearly 80.”

Me: “I’m… sorry, but—“

Customer: “Why haven’t you contacted me?”

Me: “Well, Mr.—“

Customer: “It’s not good enough! I’m nearly 80; that’s too old for paperwork! Settle my claim!”

(I’ve had a crappy day and I lose my s***. I’m not allowed to be rude as such, but I say the following:)

Me: “Mr. [Customer], your relative sent this email last night at 9:30, when we were already closed, and it’s now 11:00 the following day. You have given us approximately three hours to respond to you. I can’t review the messages you’ve sent when you’re on the phone, and even if I could, the part you have sent by post won’t be available to me until at least midday, so even then something will still be outstanding. I am sorry.”

Customer: “So, when will you be able to look at it? I’m nearly 80.”

(My day did not improve.)

(My partner and I are walking through a town on a shopping trip. We pass through rows of terrace housing between the train station and the shops. We pause at one house on the way into town, admiring the army of shih-tzus in the large Victorian bay window. The front door is open with lots of people going in and out and chatting on the threshold. On our way back, we pass the house again, and this time the front door is shut. While we try and cross the busy road, I glance down and gasp in shock. Cowering on a drain cover is a very tiny, shivering, black and white puppy. It’s so small it’s no taller than the kerb. My partner also spots it, but I nudge them. If we make eye contact with it, it may totter towards us, and any passing car would turn it into mince. Dropping my shopping, I quickly cross the road and scoop up the puppy before it can move. The poor thing is cold, and it snuggles happily into my jacket. The puppy isn’t hurt or even dirty, just cold and wondering where the h*** Mom is. Since we know exactly where it lives, we make our way to the front door of the house. There are loud thumping noises of furniture moving coming from inside.)

Me: *knocks on the door several times*

Man: *from behind the door* “GO AWAY. F*** OFF!”

Me: *keeps knocking insistently* “But I have—“

Man: *from behind the door* “GO AWAY OR WE’LL CALL THE POLICE!”

Me: *very clearly through the letterbox* “Okay! Thank you so much for the free puppy! He’s beautiful!”

(The door suddenly bangs open to reveal a woman standing there. Two dogs rush out and start barking. One of them jumps up against me, clearly trying to get to the puppy.)

Woman: “Oh, my God, there he is! How the h*** did he get out?! Is he all right?! Where did you find him?”

Me: “I found him shivering by the kerb, but I’m not sure I want to give him back to you if you have that attitude!”

Woman: “[Man]! [MAN]! Get your a** out here!”

(Sure enough, the man stomps his way down. He sees the puppy in my arms and his jaw drops.)

Man: “Where the h*** did you find him? We’ve been looking all over! Is he okay?!”

Woman: “She found him at the kerb and tried to give him back to us. And you swore at her!”

Man: *very embarrassed* “I’m sorry about that, love. We’ve been turning everything upside down trying to find [Puppy]. He belongs to our daughter. See, here’s his mom.”

(He gestured to one of the dogs, who was still standing up trying to get to the puppy. With the apology, I handed the puppy over, and the woman wrapped him up in a warm towel. Momma Dog took over warming-up duty. The couple ended up thanking me sincerely for saving the dog. The other dogs looked just beautiful and well groomed, so I did think it was a case of an accidental overlook. I hope they kept a closer eye on him next time!)

(I work in a bookshop where we have two large windows at the front. We create really elaborate window displays, all instructions passed down from corporate. People will often ask for things out of the window, even if they are on display in the store. One day, a middle-aged man marches in and points to the window.)

Customer: “I want the book in the bottom corner of the window. Get it for me now!”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t get you that specific book, as it’s at the foot of the tower, but I have plenty in the stockroom. I’ll go get one now.”

(I walk away and go into the back to find the customer’s book. It’s a huge hardback of Dante’s “Inferno” with all the pictures, so whilst we have one on the shop floor, it’s a display model. Even if it wasn’t at the bottom of the pile, I have to go to the back for a real copy, anyway. I take two minutes max. We are not a big shop. When I get back, the customer is nowhere to be seen.)

Me: “Hey! [Coworker], have you seen the guy that wanted the illustrated Dante?”

Coworker: “He ran out of here like his a*** was on fire! I have no idea why!”

(Like his a*** was on fire? Close. What had actually happened was that he had tried to squeeze into the small doorway to the window and snatch the book so he didn’t have to wait. He then knocked the entire tower into the HOT lights illuminating them. We didn’t notice until the entire display was in flames about five minutes later. The front of the shop was ruined and the bookshop had to close for six months.)

(This is a bit of a different story. I’ve gone to see my favourite band, who are touring at the moment. They used to be quite a small band, but they’ve grown in popularity recently, having been in the country’s most popular rock music magazine multiple times. They’re still really humble and down to earth, though, and the lead singer books all their tours.)

Me: “Hey, [Lead Singer], great to see you again!”

Lead Singer: “Oh, it’s you again! I remember you from last time! How are you enjoying it so far?” *pulls me in for a hug*

Me: “Amazing, as always! You know I always love your gigs!”

(We get chatting about random things for a while.)

Me: “I just wish I could see you in [Other City they’re playing next week], too! I’ve just got no money at the moment. I know it was only £10, but I could hardly even afford the ticket for this one!”

Lead Singer: “Well… [Other City] isn’t even close to being sold out yet. Just turn up and I’ll make sure you get in!”

(I’m really shocked because I honestly wasn’t expecting this!)

Me: “No, no, there’s no way I could let you do that—“

Lead Singer: “Honestly, if the venue isn’t full yet, and there are still people who’d love to see us play and who’d genuinely enjoy it, then nothing would make me happier. Just turn up next Friday and I’ll sort it.”

(I was honestly speechless by this point, so I just thanked him and gave him another hug. And people wonder why they’re my favourite band!)

(I work customer service for an online sports retailer as a tech. We do most of our contact through email and live chat, but for high-value items, customers can request a callback. I get a request through my system one evening and the only thing the customer’s written is, “Bike,” which is pretty generic. I give him a call at the requested time.)

Me: “Good evening. This is [My Name] from [Company] here. I believe you’ve put in a callback request to discuss bikes with us?”

Customer: “Well, you’re late calling me, so that’s not a good start.”

(I check the time requested on the form and it’s exactly the time I’ve called. I immediately get the impression this won’t be an easy call.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that, sir, although looking at the request, this was the time put in. How can I help?”

Customer: “I want you to spec up a custom-built bike for me. I’m getting into mountain biking and my friends all have the latest gear; I want something better than what they have.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we don’t offer custom-built bikes sir, but—“

Customer: *immediately snapping* “Why?”

Me: *alarmed at their brevity* “Well, the bikes we do sell come pre-built from the manufacturer with the listed parts supplied. We don’t carry framesets on their own, and although we do stock the parts needed to complete a build, they’re housed in a different warehouse to our full bikes, so our workshop mechanics won’t be able to put something custom made together.”

Customer: *seemingly ignoring everything I just said* “I want a full suspension frame, the best forks on the market, and parts that don’t need servicing.”

Me: “Unfortunately, sir, like I said, we don’t have bike frames on their own in stock—“

Customer: “Then get a bike and take the parts off of it, and fit what I want onto it.”

Me: “We can’t do that I’m afraid, sir. We wouldn’t be able to re-sell the parts—“

Customer: “Not my problem. I want a custom bike. What you do with the rest of the stuff I don’t want afterward is your problem, not mine.”

Me: “Right. Well, unfortunately, we can’t offer a custom-built bike, sir. We don’t have the means to do this. The parts are held in a different warehouse to our bikes, and if for any reason you received the bike and no longer wanted any of the parts, or the bike as a whole, we wouldn’t be able to offer a refund unless they were faulty.”

Customer: “Well, that’s very disappointing. I’m prepared to spend a considerable amount of money with you and you’re refusing to sell me what I want. What bikes do you have in stock that will meet my needs?”

Me: *searching through the stock we have onsite* “There’s [model #1] and [model #2] which we have that would be great to look at for popular trail centres; they have great parts fitted from the factory and it’s unlikely you’d need to upgrade anything for some time on these bikes.”

Customer: “And you’ll come and service this for me when I want?”

Me: *caught completely off guard* “Sorry?”

Customer: “I’m far too busy and important to be faffing about servicing a bike. I want your personal assurance that I will be spending my hard-earned money on something that doesn’t need servicing, or that you’ll come and service this for me when I want it done.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I can’t give that assurance. All moving parts require servicing at some point or another, and we’re an online-only store so we don’t have any physical stores or workshops you can visit to have the bike serviced; this would have to be done at a local bike shop.”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me that I’ll spend thousands on something that I then need to look after myself? When my car needs a service, the dealership picks it up, services it, and brings it back to me. They even compensate me for the inconvenience of not having my car during the time it’s being serviced. I don’t have to lift a finger. Why can’t you offer me this type of service?”

Me: *losing my cool* “Because we don’t, sir. It sounds like the type of product and service you require is outside what we’re able to offer. I could only recommend a local bike shop who may be able to offer the more personal service you’re seeking. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

Customer: “Well, that’s just useless, then. Not helpful at all. Thanks for wasting my time.” *click*

Me: *head-butts desk*