I work in a supermarket that has recently employed the trick of pumping the smell of freshly baked bread onto the high street to lure customers in. It’s a cheap trick, but hey, I just work here; I don’t make the decisions. 

One day I see a woman walk in with the largest dog I have ever seen, a big boy Mastiff.

Me: “Sorry, miss, you can’t bring dogs in here.”

Customer: “This boy weighs 90kg and he can smell croissants. You want to stop him? Because I can’t.”

It’s then apparent that she’s not walking the dog; the dog is walking her. I’m not really sure what to do, so I call the manager. He comes over and tells her the same thing.

Customer: “Once he realises there’s no fresh bread, he’ll get bored and leave. I can’t physically do anything until then.”

Manager: “Madam, maybe you should take a dog for a walk that you’re unable to physically manage.”

Customer: “And maybe you shouldn’t pump fake baking smells into the street to confuse dogs that walk in perfectly straight lines until then.”

I laughed a little because she had us there.

The woman refused to change her walking route. The Mastiff would always come and investigate the smell as he walked past. The manager told head office, and they eventually allowed us to stop pumping the smell out onto the street.

I heard that it didn’t damage or improve sales one bit.

I’m waiting tables at a restaurant, and a customer in my section flags me down.

Customer: “Excuse me, can you tell me what the dressing for [salad] contains?”

Me: “Sure.”

I give her a list of the ingredients.

Customer: “Hmm…”

Me: “Is… something wrong?”

Customer: “Well, I have an allergy.”

I wait. No further information is forthcoming.

Me: “An allergy to…?”

Customer: “That’s what I’d like to know! I thought it was a dairy allergy, because this salad gave me a reaction unless I ordered it without the dressing, but I’ve been told that your [dessert] ALSO contains dairy, so that can’t be it. And now I want to know what’s setting me off before I go trying any other dishes.”

Me: “Oh. Um…”

Customer: “Sorry, I’m not expecting you to help me figure this out. I’ll get the [salad] without the dressing, play it safe.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

I worked the IT helpdesk at my office complex. I had a ticket assigned to me where I had to phone the user and check if the problem was fixed. I called him to ask.

User: “Oh, I’m driving at the moment.”

Me: “Ha, I guess that means you can’t check your computer. Can I schedule a call with you for when you’re back in your office later?”

We scheduled it for that afternoon. After I ended the call, a bunch of managers jumped on my call notes.

Manager #1: “It’s unacceptable that the ticket is still active.”

Manager #2: “It looks bad for our metrics.”

Me: “He was driving!”

Manager #1: “Then you should have cancelled the ticket because the client was ‘refusing assistance’. This really doesn’t look good for your numbers.”

Me: “Is my job to fix people’s computers? Or is it to make the stats look good?”

Both managers had to think about that for a minute, which was worrying in itself.

I’m working in a hotel restaurant. A large group has just enjoyed a late-night Sunday dinner.

Guest: “Charge it all to me at [room number].”

Me: “Of course, sir.”

Guest: “And the cocktail was lovely. Can you send a couple of glasses up to my room?”

Me: “Of course, sir.”

This is all squared away, and I continue my business. The restaurant closes at 11 PM, and we go about our cleaning duties. The kitchen stays partially open for late-night room service until 2 AM, and I take a call from a guest expecting one of those.

Guest: “Hello! I had a couple of glasses of [Cocktail] brought up to my room earlier, and they were delicious! I’d like two more!”

Me: “I remember, sir, and I am happy you enjoyed them. Unfortunately, as it is now 1 AM, we’re unable to serve any more liquor until tomorrow.”

Guest: “If it’s past midnight, then it’s already tomorrow!”

Me: “We’ll be able to serve liquor again when alcohol service resumes tomorrow morning. Also, it would be illegal in the state of Utah for me to bring any liquor up to your room right now.”

Guest: “You kidding?! Back home I can drink until 2 AM!”

Me: “This is state law in Utah, sir.”

Guest: “I knew something was up when my minibar only had sodas!”

Me: “I can bring you any non-alcoholic drink, sir. I can even make a non-alcoholic version of that cocktail if you—”

Guest: “—Bring me two of those cocktails, with alcohol, and I’ll tip you a hundred.”

Me: “Sir, it’s not a matter of—”

Guest: “—Did you hear me?! A hundred!”

Me: “Hmm, well, sir, for requests that break hotel policy, I charge three times my annual salary. This is to give me time to look for a new career after I’m barred from working in every hotel and restaurant in the state ever again. For requests that also break the law, I charge ten times my annual salary for the impending bail money and legal fees.”

Guest: *Click.*

I’m a stickler for grammar, but I’m not the grammar police, and I don’t correct anyone’s grammar unless asked or I am reviewing their work. A coworker (and friend) knows this and likes to give me an eye twitch by using the wrong words on purpose on the company’s instant messaging app.

It should also be noted that he’s a massive dinosaur fanboy and has lots of models on his desk, all sorted by the order in which they all lived on the historical record, oldest to youngest, left to right.

I’m messaging him one morning:

Me: “So those reports are going to be delayed, so we’ve been given an extension until Friday to review them for any issues.”

Coworker: “Werd.”

Me: “Why do you hate me?”

Coworker: “Wot argh yew torque-ing aye bout?”

Me: “You’re trying to trigger me.”

Coworker: “Eye don’t no wot yiu mien.”

Me: “I’m not going to let it bother me.”

Coworker: “Eats just werds.”

Me: “You’re going to go to lunch and come back to find all your model dinosaurs out of historical order. Would be a shame if a Triassic Era creature came after a Cretaceous one.”

Coworker: “You monster.”

Me: “Eats just die know sores.”

Coworker: “Fine… truce.”