(I work as a receptionist at a private practice animal hospital. An elderly woman comes in; I recognize her as the mother of one of our clients.)

Me: Hello! How are you?

Her: *no response**hands me a plastic bag with a stool sample inside*

Me: … Would you like me to run a fecal parasite test for you?

Her: Yes. My cat has fleas, and I want to make sure he hasn’t gotten anything from them.

Me: Oh no! No problem. What was your last name again?

(She gives me her last name, but when I ask for her cat’s name, I can’t find him in the system.)

Her: I’ve never brought him here before.

Me: Oh, okay! That’s alright, we can still run the test. *I quickly create a new file for the cat and enter the charge for the fecal parasite test into the system.* Okay, so we should get the results back from the lab tomorrow, and we’ll give you a call as soon as they come in. Your total for today is going to come to $49.

Her: *slightly condescendingly* Oh, I forgot my wallet at home, sweetie. But I assure you, I’m good for it. I’ll come back in to pay it at a later date. *winks at me*

Me: Oh… Okay.

(Normally I wouldn’t let this slide without a manager’s approval, but a) I knew from past interactions that she was, indeed, good for it, and b) she walked out before I could consult with a manager.)

(A month passes. She never comes in to pay, nor does she call to make an over-the-phone payment. I send her a statement with a short letter attached, politely asking her to contact us to complete the transaction, and reminding her that she had left her wallet at home before. Several days later, I see her come in.)

Me: Hello! How are you?

Her: *no response*

Me: … What can I do for you today?

Her: *no response. She fishes out a credit card and hands it to me*

Me: … What was your last name?

Her: [Name].

Me: And your pet’s name?

Her: *stares at me as though scrutinizing the second head growing out of my ear*

Me: … What is your animal’s name?

Her: [Pet’s name].

Me: *I pull up her file in the system, suddenly remembers* Oh! Yes! Were you trying to make a payment on your account?

Her: It should be the only charge there.

Me: Oookay. *runs the card for the full amount*

Her: What can you tell me about Rat’s Lip?

Me: … I’m sorry?

Her: Rat’s Lip.

Me: … I… I’ve never heard of such a thing before.

Her: *looks at me as though she were talking to a mentally disabled child* It’s a rare condition that some cats can have. *she describes it to me, and explains that one of our doctors had diagnosed one of her cats with it a long time ago* I was wondering if you knew anything about it.

Me: Oh, no, actually I’ve never heard of it before.

Her: I just need some information about it.

Me: … I can… get the doctor, if you’d like.

Her: Eh, she’s probably busy. I just cant use the internet. I’m not one of those tech people.

Me: *noticing that the doctor’s patient has just stepped out of the exam room, and that the phone is ringing* … If… you give me just a moment, I’d be happy to find some information for you.

(I manage to put the call on hold, search for Rat’s Lip – which is actually called a “Rodent Ulcer”, apparently –  and print out the website’s information for her. Hoping she’ll leave soon, I smile pleasantly and hand it to her.)

Her: Thanks. My cat had this once. *walks out*

(The best part? I later relayed this story to the doctor. Even SHE had no idea what this condition was! How this lady expected me – someone with no in-depth veterinary training – to magically provide information about such a rare disease, I’ll never know.)

[I work at a big electronics store as security and a greeter. Our store offers free recycling for all electronics. A woman comes into the store asking for assistance bringing in an old TV she wants to recycle.]

Me: Yes ma’am, let me just call for inventory to help you bring that in to customer service for processing.

Customer: Ok I will be outside.

[An inventory associate comes up, takes her big tube tv out of her mini van and puts it on a cart. She follows behind as he comes in the door. He hits the bump on the floor where the doors open and close and the tv falls off and breaks.]

Customer: (Irate and screaming) Are you serious?! I can’t believe you just did that!

Inventory: I’m sorry maam. I’m going to take care of this.

Customer: (still yelling) This is unacceptable. (To me:)I wan’t a manager right now!

Me: Ma’am it was an accident. I appologize.

Customer: (Still yelling) Appologize. Appologize?! How would you like if someone dropped your tv?!

[At this point I am over her attidue and decide i don’t really mind getting fired.]

Me: Ma’am you brought that in for recycling. Not a repair, and certainly not a return. If it was any other reason I would be a little more worried but you are acting like an idiot and you now have my permission to leave the store before I escort you out. Have a nice day!

[The customer huffed and continued yelling as she pushed through the doors going to her car. The manager heard the commotion and came over asking me what happened. He laughed when I told him.]

(I am entering data from training evaluations that my section organized. Some of the clients speak English as a second language.)

Question: “What did you like most about this training?”

Answer: “Everything, specifically the biting.”

(From what I gathered, this training gave tips on how to STOP CHILDREN from biting each other.)

(I’m a personal shopper. I’m at the customer service desk, talking with another personal shopper and a manager, when the phone rings. The manager answers the phone but gives it to my coworker, since an online customer is calling with questions about her order. I think nothing of it, since customers call all the time to change their orders, and I go to the office. A while later, my coworker comes in.)

Me: “Who was on the phone?”

Coworker: “[Customer]. She wanted to make sure that we only picked green tissue boxes. And if we couldn’t get them, then to only sub them with purple boxes.”

Me: “What? Seriously?”

Coworker: “Yeah.”

Me: “Why?”

Coworker: “She said she needed them to match her bathroom.”

(I work in a relatively popular restaurant in a wealthy neighborhood, and have for 8 years. This evening we are quite busy with large groups – 6 or more people. A group of 11 ladies with no reservation come in and decide to sit outside on our covered terrace. We have a smoking bar next to the terrace which guests are informed of before they sit. One of the ladies waves me over.)

Customer: Miss, we were told this patio was non-smoking, but we smell smoke.

Me: I am sorry ladies. Yes, the patio is non-smoking, however there is a smoking bar nearby.

Customer: They said smokers have to go over there (she points to a bench out of the way).

Me: I am terribly sorry you were misinformed, ladies, but yes. The smoking bar is open tonight. Our apologies for the confusion.

(At this point, I go to head to my section as this is not my table and I overhear the woman say:)

Customer: Well, like YOU care, anyway.

(For whatever reason, this hit me the wrong way. Maybe it was because I had been working 12 hours already and it was humid as heck.)

Me: Ma’am, I DO care about my customers. Very much. Always do. But you were informed of the smoking bar. And I can’t move it for you.

(I walked away at this point. The manager came over and explained again that there was no other place for them to move to. The ladies tried to convince the manager to move the tables to a different spot on the patio, which was not going to happen.)