I work as a registered nurse in a county mental health clinic, and that has its own brand of nonsense.

I’m taking a phone call.

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. Can I help you?”

Patient: “I need my [prescription] called in early. I’m going to California because my dad died, and the pharmacist says I need an override from you to get it filled.”

Me: “Sorry to hear your dad died. All I can really do is call in the prescription for you, but it’s up to your insurance as to whether they’ll pay early or not. What’s your name?”

Patient: “Just call it in! G**d***!”

Me: “You have to give me your name; otherwise, I can’t do anything.”

Patient: “I’m not giving you my name! Just call in a prescription for [medication] and have it ready!”

Me: “No name, no prescription, sir. We legally cannot give out pills without a name and an account to attach it to.”

Patient: “I don’t care what you have to do; just make it happen. My dad is dead!“

The patient huffs loudly, and then I hear a male voice in the background saying, “Shut UP!”

I’m starting to get suspicious.

Me: “Hey! This story sounds familiar… Are you [Patient]? Because if you are, you must have more than one dad because you called with this same story about six months ago! And two more times before that! How many dads do you have? And if you are [Patient], there’s no way I’m calling it in early for you.”

Patient: “F*** YOU, B****!” *Click*

I just laughed and went back to charting. Sometimes you get those people who want extra meds but only have one go-to scam. Too bad he wouldn’t give me his name, or I could have added a note to his chart about having his fourth dad die.

I worked in reservations for a major airline. This was back in the mid-1990s, and the Internet was not really much of a thing yet. Airline tickets were still printed and mailed when you bought them. The only options were to buy them at the airport, through reservations, or through your travel agent.

I had a passenger who called to get the name changed on his ticket. He couldn’t take the trip, so he wanted his wife or someone else to take the trip instead.

Passenger: “I would like to change the name on my ticket.”

Me: “Do you see at the bottom of your ticket where it says ‘Non Transferable’? That applies here; you cannot transfer your ticket to another passenger.”

Passenger: “I don’t want to ‘transfer’ the ticket. I can’t take the trip, so I want [Person] to travel instead.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but the name on the ticket has to stay the same. It is not possible to reissue the ticket with a new name and transfer it to another traveler.”

Passenger: “You aren’t understanding. I don’t want to transfer it. I just want you to change the name on the ticket.”

Me: “So… you want me to take your original ticket, backspace over your name, enter a new name, and then reprint the ticket?”

Passenger: “Yes! You’ve got it.”

Me: “That is exactly what transferring a ticket is. I can’t change the name.”

Passenger: “Argh! You still aren’t getting it. I. Don’t. Want. To. Transfer. It. Just change the name. That’s all.”

Honestly, I don’t remember if his head exploded or if he just hung up in rage, but he never did get that regardless of what you call changing the name on a ticket, it wasn’t an option for him. I remember people looking over at me as I was genuinely confused as to why he wasn’t getting it. I was like, am I seriously missing something here? It will always be something I think about fondly, wondering if this guy ever finally understood why he couldn’t get the name changed.

I work in the front checkouts of a grocery store. We’re required to ask all the customers who come to the checkouts if they’ve found everything they need. Many people take the opportunity to joke about how they couldn’t find, for example, a winning lottery ticket or a bag of cash, but this is one exchange that still stands out in my mind.

Me: “Did you find everything okay?”

Customer: “I couldn’t find inner peace.”

I actually had to pause for a moment because I was not expecting such a philosophical conversation at a cash register.

I work at a large banquet dinner where people get a preset dinner of slow-cooked prime rib, pan sauce, mashed potatoes, and roasted veggies. One of my tables has a lady with a card telling staff she is gluten-free/celiac. I go talk to the kitchen to ask about the set entree, and then I come back to talk to her.

Me: “Ma’am, nothing out of our kitchen will be entirely safe since it is a commercial kitchen, and cross-contamination is a possibility.”

Customer: “That’s fine, as long as it isn’t cooked with it.”

I double-check that the set entree is safe, and the chef reassures me it isn’t made with flour. I serve her the meal.

Customer: “THIS HAS GLUTEN IN IT!”

Me: “No, it doesn’t. If anything it has cornstarch to thicken the sauce.”

Customer: “That also contains flour!”

I had to get my manager to reassure this lady that her meal was safe. He told her he had worked closely with the kitchen, and they simply cooked down the sauce to thicken it and finished it with butter. She just wouldn’t believe me even though I had run around to check about her meal multiple times.

Related:
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 11
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 10
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 9
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 8
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 7

I’m about to go to lunch to meet a friend when my manager corners me.

Manager: “Can you help me quickly? I just need your help with an email.”

Me: “I’m about to go to lunch to meet a friend.”

Manager: “It won’t take a minute. It’s just a quick question.”

We go over to his workstation, and he has his email open, but nothing written out.

Me: “What’s the issue?”

Instead of talking about the email, he points to the keyboard.

Manager: “Has the keyboard always been so… scrambled?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Manager: “Why isn’t it all ABC? Why does Q come first?”

Me: “It’s called a QWERTY keyboard, and we’ve always used them.”

Manager: “Really? I’ve never noticed.”

The manager starts finger-typing… one… letter… at… a… time. They get to the end of the first word and then pause.

Me: “Everything okay?”

Manager: “How do I put a space between this word and the next one?”

Yes… I was late to lunch.