I get a call from lady that starts off with her choking back tears already. Internet service has been out for less than fifteen minutes, and three minutes of that were spent on the phone getting to me.

I advise her of a known issue and that we are working on it. I can provide no exact ETA since the ticket is all of fifteen minutes old, but do say it’s likely within an hour or two.

Caller: “Do you know how much I pay for this, and you are denying me service!? And you won’t pay me!”

Me: “I can apply a 48-hour credit.”

Caller: “Completely unacceptable! Do you know how much I pay?!”

Me: “Yes, and I can apply a 48-hour credit, which is 46-47 more hours than the service will be out for.”

Caller: “Fine. How much is it?”

Me: “$3.” *They pay $1.50 a day.*

Caller: “OUTRAGOUS!”

She begins a tirade about how much she pays and how inconvenient this all is.

Me: “Okay, well, if that will be all, then you will be notified.”

Caller: “It’s not okay! How dare you say it’s okay!”

Me: “I didn’t say it was okay, I was just starting a sentence with the word ‘Okay’.”

Caller: “Your name. Give it. This call better be monitored. I will be seeing to it you get fired.”

Me: “Okay, well, if you want, I can send you to my supervisor right now.”

Caller: “No! Give me your name! I will call back and get someone more competent who can transfer me to your supervisor!”

Me: “Okay, so again, I am happy to send you there now.”

She proceeds to spend the next eleven minutes berating me, saying how awful I am at my job, and I need to learn to say sorry at the end of each sentence because she is the customer and that is the minimum she deserves from me. 

Eventually, it got to the point that I had to say:

Me: “If you aren’t willing to move to the next step, then I will release the call.”

She just flat out refused to get off the line until I got to the final warning of:

Me: “I am going to hang up now.”

We open at 11 AM. I didn’t have a chance to lock the door on my way in, so as I go back to the door, a guy comes in, and I tell him:

Me: “I’m sorry, sir! We don’t open for another hour.”

Customer: “Well, I thought it was 10 AM!”

Me: “No, sir. It’s 11 AM.”

Customer: “So we’re gonna play this f****** game again?!”

Me: “The game you are guaranteed to lose because you can’t read? Yes.”

Customer: “F*** you!”

He storms out and doesn’t return. I guess I was his last straw that day, and it was only 10 AM…

Related:
Not So Closed Minded, Part 52
Not So Closed Minded, Part 51
Not So Closed Minded, Part 50
Not So Closed Minded, Part 49
Not So Closed Minded, Part 48

I remember back in the 2000s, I worked for a telecom store. A customer came in with an overdue bill exceeding $700 and a broken phone.

Customer: “I want to claim on your device protection to get another one.”

Me: *Looking into his account.* “Sir, you can’t claim. You haven’t been paying your bill, hence why your phone is not only disconnected, but you haven’t been paying for the device protection either.”

Customer: “Well, I’m not paying for a service that doesn’t work.”

Me: “Sir, you broke your phone. That’s why it’s not working.”

Customer: “Get me a new phone that works, and then I’ll start paying again.”

Me: “You need to backpay all that’s owed on your bills first, and you’d need to pay for a new phone as your device protection is no longer active due to non-payment.”

Customer: “I’m not giving you anything until you give me something!”

Me: “We gave you a phone and device protection. You’re the one who hasn’t given us anything for a long time now.”

He stormed out of the store, calling me various names.

He tried this again with multiple other consultants over the course of a few months. Each time he got the same answer and threw his hands up as he walked out, yelling that we were all:

Customer: “A useless pack of f****** c***s!”

My friend and I (both women) were waiting in the center lane to turn left into a shopping center parking lot when a man pulled up behind us and laid on the horn. Despite the heavy traffic and absolutely zero opportunity to turn for all of three minutes, he kept honking.

Eventually, two cars took pity on us, and we were able to turn. The man behind us followed directly, so close that if we had slowed down at all, he would have hit us. [Friend] parked in the second row in the parking lot, and the man took a handicapped spot right in front of the shipping store we wanted to enter.

Friend: “Should we wait?”

Me: “Yeah. He seems like he’s in a hurry.”

[Man] got out of his car and flipped us off. We just watched without saying anything. He went in, did whatever he had to do, and pulled out to leave. We went in, did what we had to do, and walked back out.

[Man] was parked on the passenger side of our car, clearly waiting for us. He got out of his car, slamming the door into my friend’s car, and approached us as my friend opened her door.

Man: “You f****** got something to say? Huh? You got a problem?”

Friend: *Ignores him and opens her door.*

Man: *Slams his door shut.* “Step the f*** up right now! You’re gonna lose your f****** teeth!”

[Man] advanced on my friend, but I stepped between them with my keys in one hand and my little bottle of pepper spray in the other.

Me: *Smiling.* “Hello, I think you should leave.”

Man: *Turns to me.* “I ain’t talking to you, c***.”

Me: “You are now.”

Man: “What the f*** is your problem?!”

Me: “I’ve been waiting for someone to swing on me, so let’s go.”

The man looked me over, noted both of my hands, and lost some of his attitude.

Man: *Sucks his teeth.* “I ain’t got time for your bull-s***.”

He got back in his car, banging his door against my friend’s car again, and left.

I took a video of him leaving, complete with another middle finger out the window and his license plate. According to my friend, the police were not surprised when she gave them the information, and she was able to have her door repaired and repainted at the man’s expense.

CONTENT WARNING: Mention of gun violence

I am a forty-year-old woman maintenance assistant for a city. There are not many women on my team, but we are crucial for parts of the job (liability stuff). I also dye my hair with henna. In the sunlight, it often glows bright like copper. I don’t know what compelled a random man old enough to be my father to approach me, but my hair is often the reason. I’ve been hit on many times before, and it likely won’t be the last. This time, however, is by far the strangest interaction I’ve ever had.

Today, I was asked to meet several of my leads on a repair job in a heavily homeless-populated area. My team never cleans there because it’s unsafe, but a pipe burst, and it was an emergency. And we were understaffed that day. So, my boss trusted me to drive four blocks to the repair site. The moment I get out of the truck, ZOOM!

Some random, old man in an American flag hat has snuck up behind me, positioning his scooter between my truck’s driver door and me, but not between my leads’ truck. There in the truck sat three of my leads (tall, dark, bearded men wearing the same uniform as me). I was safe.

First, assuming this was a man looking for directions or assistance, I don my customer service, always-be-polite-to-the-public state of mind.

The dialogue that follows is an approximation of our interaction.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Him: “Come here often?”

Me: “No. This is my first time here.”

Him: “Oh. So, you’re here to clear out these bums.”

Me: “That’s not my job.”

Him: “What is your job?”

Me: *Gesturing to my leads behind me.* “We are maintenance.”

Him: “So, you can do something about the holes in the fence? Those bums are cutting holes there. There. There.”

Me: “That is an excellent observation. I’ll be sure to pass it along.”

Him: “While you’re at it, you should take a shotgun and blow their heads off.”

Me: “…I’m sorry, but we as city employees cannot condone violence.”

Him: “Fine. Maybe, I’ll do it.”

Me: “Just don’t do it in front of me. I’ll be obligated to report it.”

After he scootered off, I turn to my leads.

Me: “Will one of you ride with me. I suddenly don’t want to drive alone.”