Caller: “Hi, do you offer a ‘Good Citizen’ discount?”

Me: “What would qualify under such a discount, ma’am?”

Caller: “You know, being a generally good citizen.”

Me: “We like to think that the vast majority of our customers are good citizens.”

Caller: “And do you offer them a discount?”

Me: “Since all our customers are considered good citizens, then the standard rate they pay is the good citizen rate.”

Caller: “Hmm, I guess that’s true. I’ll call around to your competitors and see if they have better citizens…” *Click.*

I work for a power company in the call center.

Caller: “Why is my bill so high?!”

Me: “We just had a solid few months of below-freezing weather, so some bills will be higher if you keep your heat running the whole time.”

Caller: “But I haven’t had it running!”

Me: “What temperature do you keep your thermostat on?” 

Caller: “I’ve never turned the heat on as my house is naturally insulated.”

Me: “How did your pipes not freeze if you don’t use your heat and your hot water is off at the breaker?”

Caller: “…” *Click.*

Try to think of a better lie next time.

I just started working for an energy company, and we’re taking our first calls on the outage line. Mostly it’s easy stuff… until…

Me: “Thank you for calling—”

Customer: “—Shut up and get me a supervisor.”

Me: “All right, while I do that—”

Customer: “—No! I don’t want to talk to you! Get me a supervisor now!”

Now, I’ve done call center work, so I know the drill. But I’m rolling my eyes.

Me: “All right, I’m going to get a supervisor for you. Can I please get some information, so the supervisor knows how best to help you?”

Customer: *Long sigh.* “You idiots made a huge mess, and I demand you clean it up! Now get me a supervisor; I’m not talking to you.”

I get one of our coaches to help me transfer her over, and go on about my day, but I capture the account info that came in to check on it later.

Notes: “Customer upset that neighbor was running noisy generator.”

We don’t provide generators to customers, so she was angry at her neighbor, but blamed us… because electricity?

She wanted us to get rid of it, and the poor supervisor had to explain that it wasn’t ours.

I wonder what it’s like to have that much free time on your hands.

Caller: “Hello. I think I have a gas leak.”

Me: “Even if you only think you do, I implore you to get out of the house right now. Evacuate the property, do not use electrical switches or appliances, turn off the gas supply at the meter if safe, and open doors and windows. Can you call the National Gas Emergency Service, or would you like me to do that for you?”

Caller: “Oh, is it that serious?”

Me: “Yes, madam, it really is! Are you safe to evacuate or—”

Caller: “It’s just that Eastenders—” *British soap opera.* “—is about to start. Can we evacuate after that?”

Me: “Madam, there is a serious risk to life if you remain in the house with a gas leak.”

Caller: “But we’re about to find out who really killed [Major Character]!”

Me: “Madam, do you want to find out who killed him later, or never find out because you’ll be dead?”

Caller: “…I think I’ll wait until they repeat it on the Sunday omnibus and try to avoid spoilers this week.”

Me: “I think that’s wise, madam.”

I call who I need to call to get an emergency visit to their address, and it’s confirmed that there was no gas leak, just a bad smell coming from the drain. I hope she can catch up with her stories safely on Sunday!

I work at a landfill site (a little office shack) where trash trucks appointed by The City bring in trash every day. We don’t usually get calls from regular folk, but I got one today. I take the call on the loudspeaker as the three of us in the shack (coworker, manager, and I) were expecting a call from another worker, and we all needed to be on the call.

Caller: “Stop whatever you’re doing!”

Me: “What was that?”

Caller: “Your trash guys took one of my trash bags, but it was a mistake! It wasn’t supposed to be taken!”

Me: “I see. If you let me know when it was collected and your address, I can—”

Caller: “—I can’t tell you any of that! I just need to go there and go through the trash!”

Me: “I… I can’t allow that, sir.”

Caller: “You don’t understand! This bag! It had fifty thousand dollars in it!”

Everyone in the shack is listening in, now.

Me: “Fifty grand… cash?”

Caller: “Uh… of… uh…”

Me: “Or fifty grand of… product?”

Caller: “Yeah, let’s call it that.”

Me: “Oooookay, give me your number, and I’ll call you back.”

The caller gives me a number, and I hang up.

Me: “Ugh… we got a few bricks of cocaine in the system again, don’t we?”

Manager: “I’ll call the police and give them that number. You try to figure out which truck did that guy’s neighborhood and tell them to pull aside when they get here. [Coworker], where are you going?”

Coworker: “To the restroom, chill! I’m not about to go out into the landfill to search for cocaine.”

The police were called, and they told us to do what we could to identify the truck, but not to search through it. They sent some special guys (and dogs) out to go through the bags, and they found it within minutes. Just another Tuesday in trash collection…