(I watch this happen between two girls and the bus driver. The bus stops, passengers disembark. Literally two seconds after the bus starts moving, [Girl #1] presses the bell. After about 15 seconds, this happens.)

Girl #1: “Why isn’t he stopping?”

Girl #2: “I don’t know. You pressed the bell.”

Girl #1: *to the driver* “Are you stopping?”

Driver: “Yes, when I get to my stop.”

Girl #2: “But we need to get off here.”

(She starts pressing the bell repeatedly.)

Girl #2: “Why won’t he stop?!”

Girl #1: “He has to stop. He’s a bus!”

(Frantically ringing the bell.)

Me: “He’ll stop at the other end of the road, which is his stop.”

(Both girls stare at me like I have three heads.)

Girl #1: “But we need to get off here.”

Me: “This is a bus, not a taxi. He stops at predesignated stops, not in the middle of the street.”

(Turns to [Girl #2], who is still pressing the bell.)

Me: “And doing that won’t make him stop any sooner.”

(They glared at me and at the driver, then started whispering to each other. The bus stopped and they got off, giving me and the driver dirty looks. When I got to my stop, I thanked the driver, and we shared a laugh over the two stupid girls who still didn’t understand buses in their late teens.)

(I am on reception at a leisure centre that has various activities going on at once. It is very busy, as it is the Easter holidays, and it’s raining. An old lady comes up to the desk with her grandson:)

Customer: *in a very quiet voice* “What do I owe you?”

Me: *leaning towards her to be able to hear her* “Sorry?”

Customer: “What do I owe you?”

Me: *still with my head leaning over the counter and whispering too* “I don’t know. You haven’t told me what you want to do.”

Customer: *suddenly louder* “Well, I have never been here before, so I don’t know what to do!”

Me: *in my head* “Perhaps tell me what you want to do before I charge you! I have to do this mad, crazy thing called ‘put information into the till’!”

Customer: “I am not a customer of yours, but I was wondering if you could help me? I have a system from [Competitor] that I have so many issues with. For example…”

(The customer starts reeling off various hardware connection issues.)

Customer: “I heard that you can send engineers onsite to sort these things out, and I would be willing to pay you, as it isn’t your equipment”

Me: “I am sorry, but we only specialise in our own hardware and software, and our engineers wouldn’t be qualified to start fixing [Competitor]’s hardware.”

Customer: “What am I supposed to do, then? I have a business to run and need this hardware working.”

Me: “Have you tried calling [Competitor] and seeing if they can send an engineer out?”

Customer: “No. I probably should have tried them first. Thanks, anyway, though.”

(A supervisor comes into the office with a smile on his face. [Colleague], who works on the desk opposite me, is in her late 70s and is retiring in six months. She is known for her conservative views.)

Supervisor: *to me* “I’ve finally converted—”

Me: “What?”

Supervisor: “I’ve converted. You know, the—”

Colleague: “Oh, that’s wonderful news.” *quick side glare at me* “It’s a good day when one of the lost finds the flock again.”

Supervisor: “Ugh, sure… Anyway, I converted my measures sheet to metric. It took me all weekend, but I finally did it.” *beaming*

Me: “Oh, that is wonderful. That should save us some time!”

Colleague: “So, you aren’t converting to Catholicism. You should, unless you’re like [My Name] and her perversions.”

Me: “[Colleague]! You stop that right now!”

Supervisor: *to colleague* “Shut your puss, you old hag. My dad was abused by a Catholic priest when he was ten years old. He’s been very critical of religion ever since, especially Catholicism, which has more than enough secrets to damn the world thrice over. If you don’t like that, you can stick your crucifix where the sun doesn’t shine.”

(My colleague blushes and leaves the office, muttering about being so mistreated.)

Me: “Wow… [Supervisor], you might’ve just lost your job.”

Supervisor: “Who cares. It’s old witches like her that make life worse for the rest of us. What did she even mean, bringing you into that?”

Me: “My sister is gay, and I made the mistake of outing her to the office when she found out she was pregnant. [Colleague]’s been giving me nasty looks ever since. She’ll be gone in six months, and I don’t want the added baggage of a complaint so close to her retirement. It might give her the passion to stay, just to spite me.”

(He grumbled and left. When I went in the next morning, there was a nice new partition blocking my view of [Colleague], and a teddy bear with note attached saying to give it to my sister. To my knowledge, [Colleague] hasn’t complained about [Supervisor], and I’m counting the days until she’s gone for good.)

(I work in a call centre supporting IT. We have a remote tool which allows us to view the customer’s screens.)

Me: “Good morning, and thank you for calling [Call Centre]. My name is [My Name]; how can I help you today?”

Customer: “I’ve been opening my emails, and they show the box on the taskbar, showing they are open, but they’re not showing on my screen! It’s useless! I’ve tried everything including rebooting…”

(The customer goes on like this for a few minutes, saying how his computer never works and the system is rubbish, etc.)

Me: “Can I just take your Personal Identification Number, please?”

(I confirm a few basic details, including computer details, so I can remote over to his screen.)

Me: “Brilliant. I’ll remote across now; just make sure everything private is closed.”

(The customer approves my remote connection. I can see two screens; one has his emails open on them, and I can see them fine.)

Me: “[Customer], do you have two screens?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “Could you ensure your second screen is turned on, please?”

(A moment’s silence passes.)

Customer: “Oh, b*****ks!” *click*