(I work at the information services desk at my local library. My tasks include answering reference questions — which are anything from phone numbers to things that actually require research — putting items on reserve, and assisting patrons with computers, printing, copying, microfilm, etc. This was my most interesting phone call yesterday.)

Me: “[Library,] information services. This is [My Name].”

Patron: “Hello, [My Name], I was wondering if you could pull and hold three items for me?”

Me: “Sure thing! What are you looking for, so I know if they’re here or elsewhere in the library system?”

Patron: “I need three copies of The Diary of Anne Frank.”

Me: “Yup, it looks like we have four available here, so I can definitely grab three for you. May I have your name for the hold?”

Patron: “The name is [Gender-Neutral First Name, Surname].”

Me: “That name actually doesn’t seem to be in my computer here.”

Patron: “That’s not right. That’s my husband, and I have his library card right here in front of me!”

Me: *mentally preparing for the worst* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m actually unable to charge them to someone else’s card. It’d need to be on yours.”

Patron: “Well, maybe his is expired. Can you hold them for him, anyway, and he can renew his card with the license?”

(I have to explain several times that I am unable to place something on hold for someone who is not in the system, and that I cannot hold something for her on someone else’s card.)

Patron: “Well, I don’t know if you can put it on my card. I have overdue books. I don’t know what the fine is, but my name is [Patron].”

Me: “Well, if the fine is under $5, you are still able to check things out. Let me check on that for you.” *sees the patron has $54.99 in fines for two lost items* “Uh… Yeah, ma’am, you have about $55 in fines on your account.”

Patron: *annoyed and snippy* “Well, then you’re going to put it on my daughter, [Daughter]’s card!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m still unable to charge your items on someone else’s card. You’ll have to pay the fines for your lost items in order to use your library card again.”

Patron: “Well, this is bulls***! I guess I have to wait for forgiveness day so I don’t have to give you greedy people your $55 that’ll probably go toward your coffee, anyway!” *hangs up*

(I’m assuming she didn’t know that our library does not have an Amnesty or Forgiveness Day, and that you’re only exempt from fines on those days if you actually GIVE THE ITEMS BACK!)

Customer: “I want a pound of turkey.”

Me: “Which kind would you like?”

Customer: “I don’t know; you pick. Which one do you like?”

Me: “Well, personally, I don’t like any of them. But then again, I don’t like turkey.”

Customer: “Oh, so you’re saying I’m a bad person because I do like it?!”

Me: “Well, I wasn’t saying that. But now I am.”

Me: “This is [Police Department]. What is your emergency?”

Caller: “My power’s out.”

Me: “Do you believe someone is outside, and they cut your power?”

Caller: “No, the whole power is out in the area.”

Me: “Okay. Then you need to call the electric company.”

Caller: “But they aren’t open this late.”

Me: “There should be twenty-four hour number for the electric company to call in case of an emergency, ma’am.”

Caller: “I don’t know what it is. Why can’t you help me?”

Me: “Because this isn’t a police issue.”

Caller: “But all the power is out. My food will go bad! This is ridiculous!”

Me: “It’s still not a police issue.”

Caller: “What’s the number for the electric company, then?”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

Caller: “You’re no help!” *click*

(The police have their own twenty-four hour number to call the electric company, but I wasn’t about to give it out. Sadly, too many people believe calling police will actually get their power turned back on.)

(Our no-frills hotel is right next to a luxury hotel called Lorian, and so many times people come to ask about it.)

Lady: “How much for a room?” *I tell her* “Too much! Any other hotels ’round?”

Me: “Well, there’s the Lorian next door. But that’s all. And—”

Lady: “Delorean? Okay, thanks!” *leaves quickly*

(She came back, muttering.)

(I am at a Renaissance Faire. I have created a custom piece of artwork for a customer. He ordered it a month ago, and it features his, his wife’s, and his children’s names. As he is coming to pick it up today, I have it visible behind my counter. A woman is looking at the piece and complimenting me on it. She seems a little drunk.)

Customer: “Gah, that’s so beautiful. How much is it?”

Me: “Well, that’s a custom order; he paid [total] for it. If you are interested, I can create something custom for you.”

Customer: “Nah, I want that one!”

Me: “I’m afraid that one is paid for; it was custom made and it has his family’s names on it. I can create one for your family, or if you want to take something home today, I have a similar piece for sale over here.”

Customer: “Why can’t I have that one?”

Me: *more firmly* “It’s not for sale. It belongs to someone else.”

(The drunk woman starts crying, but goes quiet, and sits down outside my booth. Five minutes later, I am talking to another customer and hear shouting. The woman has snatched the piece from behind the counter and is trying to run away with it! She makes it around the corner with me in tow yelling, when a man steps up and blocks her way with outstretched arms. Too drunk to figure out how to get around him, she sits down and starts crying. I take the piece from her, then realize the man who blocked her path is the customer who ordered the custom piece! I hand it to him, laughing.)

Me: “I guess you had to earn this one!”

(We sent the drunken woman to first aid to get her water and help her sober up. This year, she came back to the faire far more sober, and was browsing my shop. I don’t think she remembered the previous adventure, and she ended up buying a piece that was legitimately for sale.)