Me: “Good afternoon. This is the [Operating System] IT service desk. My name is [My Name]; how may I help you?”

Caller: “I hope you can. How do I make it so I can’t see my emails when I click on them?”

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t quite understand. Could you explain this issue to me?”

Caller: “When I click on my emails, it opens them. I don’t want to read them.”

Me: “Sir, if you do not wish to open the emails, the only thing I could suggest would be to not click them.”

Caller: “How do I make it so that I can click on my emails without reading them?”

Me: “What is it that you are wanting to do with the emails?”

Caller: “Nothing!”

Me: *unsure what to say* “Um, if there is nothing you wish to do with the emails, you should just be able to leave them in your inbox without having to click on them.”

Caller: “Will I still be able to open them later?”

Me: “Yes, sir. The emails will remain in your inbox until you choose to delete them.”

Caller: “Oh, okay. Thank you for your help.” *click*

(I provide IT support for a real estate company that covers a large part of the southeast of England. One day I am providing support for a colleague when the following happens.)

Me: “Can you let me know the error message you’re getting on the screen?”

(My colleague is unable to describe the error message.)

Me: “Okay, if you can send me a screenshot of the error, I think I know the problem.”

(My colleague sent me a screenshot that consisted of the following: a print screen of the error, pasted into Word so it was shrunk portrait, printed out, scanned, and saved as a .tif file. The file was then attached to an email and sent to me. The colleague is a lovely person but really struggles when it comes to common sense.)

(I am with my family at an amusement park, and we are queuing to get on a log flume. There are three to a log, so it’s my younger brother in front, stepmum at the back, and me in the middle. This log flume is three steadily escalating hills. We go up the first hill with no problem… or so I think:)

Younger Brother: *who has learning difficulties* “That was horrible; I’m glad it’s over.”

Me: “Uh… We have two more to go through.”

(We started up the second hill. My brother started yelling that he wanted to get off. Once we went down that hill, he started trying to stand up and get off. My stepmum, behind me, was trying to force him down into his seat. Eventually, we went down the last hill, and the picture after was basically my screaming, crying brother trying to get off, my screaming stepmother trying to force him to sit down, and me in the middle with this, “Oh, for f***’s sake,” look on my face.)

(I’m serving behind the register when a woman approaches the till with her shopping, complaining the entire time about our air conditioning — how it’s too cold, blowing her hair all over the place, etc. I explain to her the reason why the store has its temperature so low — the building is largely made of glass and the heat generated spoils the food — and the transaction finishes. I begin to serve my next customer when the woman stands DIRECTLY UNDER the air conditioning unit, blocking the entrance to the store, and yells:)

Customer: “You know, when you stand under here, it blows straight up your nose and it’s just awful. Awful!”

Me: *my patience is running incredibly thin* “Yeah, well, we have to stand under it for hours on end, so…”

Customer: *points at our automatic door* “You should have this open all the time now; it’s a beautiful day outside and you don’t need it closed all the time. Then, when this door is open you can take all of this mess out.” *points at the air conditioning unit’s metal pipes* “And it won’t blow up people’s noses anymore.” *leaves store*

Me: “…!”

Other Customer: “Oh, my God. Did that just happen?”

(We have a new person in the office who claimed to be an Excel expert when she applied. While her role doesn’t require using the software, one manager decided to take advantage of her skills and have her redesign an allocation sheet for one of his divisions. She agrees to help and spends an entire day working on it instead of doing her actual duties. I go up to her, asking if she wants a cup of tea. However, she looks quite stressed.)

Me: “Is everything all right?”

Colleague: “Yes. It’s just this allocation sheet. It’s very complicated and demanding. I think someone is going to have to pick up my work until I’ve finished.”

Me: “You should only be doing that once you’ve finished the work you are required to do. I think [Manager] would understand.”

Colleague: “Clearly you don’t understand anything. This requires a lot of concentration! I can’t just do an odd hour here or there.”

Me: “What are you trying to do? I’m quite good at Excel myself. Maybe I can help.”

Colleague: “No, it’ll be way above your head.”

Me: “Try me.”

Colleague: *sighs* “In this column here, I’m making all the boxes write in bold.”

Me: “Okay.”

Colleague: “And that’s very time-consuming.”

Me: “You’ve spent a day making all the cells in that column bold?”

Colleague: “Yes.”

Me: “And how have you been doing it?”

(She then selects a single cell, right-clicks it, clicks on “Format Cells,” then the “Font” tab, and then “Bold,” before clicking “Okay.”)

Colleague: “Understand why it’s taking so long?”

Me: “And you’ve been doing that one cell at a time? Why don’t you just select a group of cells at a time, or better yet, just an entire column?”

Colleague: *confused* “What?”

Me: *pointing at the column head* “Click there.”

(She does and her eyes practically bulge when the entire column changes colour. I then navigate her to the “Home” tab and tell her to click the “B.”)

Me: “Everything in that column will be in bold now.”

Colleague: “I… I need a break.”

(She gets up and turns. The manager she was making the sheet for has been stood behind us long enough to understand what’s just happened. He says he won’t be needing her help anymore, and she leaves for the kitchen.)

Manager: *whispering to me* “Even I know how to bold a f****** column.”

(This revelation spread like wildfire in the office, and while no one is outright bullying her, no one trusts her with a PC, resulting in her no longer being needed.)