(I’m in the middle of a much-earned vacation. As I’m relaxing in the sunshine, my cell phone goes off. I get a twinge of fear when I see it’s the office.)

Coworker: “Hey, could you send me a copy of [report]?”

Me: “Talk to [Coworker #2]. I left it with him in case anyone needed to see it.”

Coworker: “Well, why can’t you send it to me?”

Me: “Because I’m on vacation!”

Coworker: “Yeah, but still, don’t you still have a copy in your e-mail outbox? Just re-send it to me.”

Me: “Let me get this straight. Rather than just walk down the hall and talk to [Coworker #2], you decided to call me up while I’m on my vacation, in the hopes that I’d drop what I’m doing, track down a computer, log into my e-mail, and re-send you [report]. Why?”

Coworker: “I thought it would be easier…”

(My phone number is one digit off from another department on campus. I frequently get calls for the other department, so I’m used to giving out their number. Usually, it’s no big deal. Not this time.)

Me: “[My department]; this is [My Name].”

Information Desk Person: “Hi [unintelligible], this is [unintelligible]. I [unintelligible] and she was wondering [unintelligible].”

Me: “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I’m having some trouble hearing you.”

Information Desk Person: “Yes, I’m calling to find out if [unintelligible] is open today.”

Me: “I’m sorry; I’m still having trouble hearing you. Could you please say that one more time?”

Information Desk Person: “Yes, I’m calling to find out what hours the track is open today.”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry, you have the wrong number. You’re trying to reach the Rec center. Their number is 8999.”

Information Desk Person: “That’s what I called.”

Me: “No, you called my phone; I’m not in the Rec center. You’re trying to reach the Rec center, at the extension 5-8999. My number is really close; it’s 5-9999. That’s the number you called. You need to call 5-8999.”

Information Desk Person: “But you’re answering their phone.”

Me: “No, I’m answering MY phone. You’ve called the wrong number.”

Information Desk Person: “But I called the Rec center.”

Me: “You’re on campus, right?”

Information Desk Person: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, then you need to dial the following number: 5. 8. 9. 9. 9.”

Information Desk Person: “That’s the number I called.”

Me: “No. You didn’t. You need to call 5. 8. 9. 9. 9.”

Information Desk Person: “I don’t need to call the whole number?”

Me: “Not if you’re using a campus phone.”

Information Desk Person: “So I call 8899.”

Me: “I’m going to say the extension again. 5. 8. 9. 9. 9. That is the number you need to call.”

Information Desk Person: “But that IS the number I called.”

Me: “NO. You called my number. You need to call 5. 8. 9. 9. 9. I can give you the entire number, just so you make sure you call the correct number, okay? It’s 5. 4. 0. 5. 5. 5. 8. 9. 9. 9. Okay? Call that number. That’s who you’re trying to reach.”

Information Desk Person: “I DID call that number.”

Me: “NO YOU DIDN’T. Our numbers are very close, but they’re completely, totally different numbers. You need to call 5. 4. 0. 5. 5. 5. 8. 9. 9. 9. Did you write that down?”

Information Desk Person: “I did. And you work at the rec center?”

Me: “No. I am in [My Department]. You need to call that other number.”

Information Desk Person: “So I should hang up and call that number.”

Me: “Yes. I’ll give it to you one more time. 5. 4. 0. 5. 5. 5. 8. 9. 9. 9.”

(Three seconds later: Ring ring! I sigh as I see the number on my caller ID.)

Me: “[My Department]; this is [My Name].”

Information Desk Person: “Hi, this is [unintelligible]. I’m calling from the Information Desk because I have someone who’s looking for the rec center.”

Me: “You’ve called the wrong number again.”

Information Desk Person: “No, I called the Rec center.”

Me: “This is the person you just talked to. I am going to give you the phone number one. last. time. Are you ready?”

Information Desk Person: “You don’t work in the rec center?”

Me: “No. I. work. in. [My]. [Department]. Here. is. the. number. you. need. to. call. Write. these. numbers. down.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “5.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “4.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “0.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “5.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “5.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “5.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “8.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “9.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “9.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “9.”

Information Desk Person: “Okay.”

Me: “Now read that back to me.”

Information Desk Person: “540-555-8999.”

Me: “Perfect. Have a great day.”

(Three seconds later: Ring ring!)

Me: “YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME! [My Department]; this is [My Name].”

Information Desk Person: “Hi, I’m—”

Me: “I’m going to cut you off right there. If you call me one more time, I am going to find out who your supervisor is and have you fired. I’m not kidding. Call the number I gave you.”

Information Desk Person: “What number was—”

Me: *click*

(She didn’t call back. I have no idea if the person ever found out about the track’s availability.)

(I work in the bar of a nice hotel in Kings Cross and one of the “guests” (a highly arrogant and condescending man) comes in with what appears to be an “escort.” They come up to the bar and are about to order drinks when the gentleman guest (and I mean that in the broadest definition) asks:)

Guest: “I want you to make the strongest drink you know.”

(As I have spent several years trying to create the world’s strongest cocktail that tastes non-alcoholic, I take the challenge with pleasure. After she is about half way through the drink she is becoming very friendly, so the guest takes it that he should try one of these drinks I have created, but in his supreme arrogance at being a bit of a high-flyer, says:)

Guest: “I want that drink too, but you should make mine even stronger!”

(There are laws in Australia about how much liquor you can put in a cocktail which I, in the previous creation, have disregarded, and so now I am excited to see how far I can push it. Both guests are somewhat peaked. They leave and I close the bar for the night. The next day arrives, and I have set up the bar, and who would be the first person to walk in? None other that our “guest,” no escort this time. He approaches the bar and seems a little worse for wear. He leans over the bar and in the most gruff and threatening almost whisper says:)

Guest: “If you ever make me a drink like that again, I will have you fired.”

(I’m a regular at a video game store. I’m standing off to the side, charging my phone. A customer walks up, then stops a bit before the register.)

Cashier: “I can help you here!”

Customer: “She was here first, though.”

Cashier: “Her? Nah, she’s just loitering. We’re just too nice to kick her out.

(I work at a temp agency assigning temporary employment. During the test, we run the applicant through a basic medical screening and application form, before concluding with a fingerprint session. My client today comes in with his father.)

Me: “Okay, sir, here’s your application. Just fill it out real quick and return it when you’re done.”

(He thanks me and moves off to the corner to fill out the form. He comes back when it’s done and I give him a drug test and a few hearing and eye tests for the job he’s applying for.)

Me: “Okay, we’re almost done. If you’ll just step over here, we can take your fingerprints and you’ll be good to go.”

Applicant: “You got it.”

(I watch, dumbfounded as he motions his dad over and fingerprints his dad’s hands onto the stamp pad.)

Me: “Sir, I meant your own fingers.”

Applicant: “I can’t do that. Every time I give my fingerprints, I get arrested.”