Back in the days of cable TV and satellite dishes (the early 1990s), I am a tech who is usually called to handle the more complicated issues. I get a call from a manager who works with my direct manager, who is retiring.

Manager: “We need you to do a hard reset on [Customer]. [Call Centre Manager] left a note on the account to specifically call you.”

I log in and see that it’s full of notes of the worst kind about this customer. Over the years, he has been abusive, racist, and sexist, but mostly homophobic. Every time he gets a male worker at the call centre, he calls them homophobic slurs of the vilest kind. How this customer’s account hasn’t been closed by now is beyond me.

Me: “Why? What happened here? His account is a mess.”

Manager: “It was [Call Centre Manager]. He seems to have… been creative on his last day before retirement last week.”

As I am friends with that old call centre manager, I call him and ask for an explanation.

Call Centre Manager: “I totally did not remote into a customer’s cable box with a generic tech support password, put in a parental lock, hide all channels except for a very nice adult entertainment channel, and then leave.”

Me: “I see. So, you absolutely did not leave this homophobic customer’s cable service locked into only, and absolutely only, the gay adult channel?”

Call Centre Manager: “I absolutely did not do that. No. See you at my retirement barbeque on Saturday?”

Me: “I’ll be there!”

I got a Ph.D. placement abroad in Switzerland, but because I was starting directly after my Masters, I only got about three weeks’ notice that I had been accepted by the university. Of course, this meant that my choices in flat hunting were limited. I ended up renting a room in a flat with two other people both in their forties.

Things quickly started going downhill — things like being accused of not doing the cleaning when I had, not being allowed to use the kitchen if the main tenant was cooking (he was technically my landlord as I had the contract with him), and having to eat my breakfast while the main tenant was having his morning meetings at the dining table. While not terrible, it did make the whole situation awkward.

Finally, I’ve had enough, and I start flat hunting and find a nice place closer to the centre of the city. Once I have signed the contract, I arrive back at the flat to tell the main tenant I’m leaving with four months’ notice. (It’s May.) He starts speaking before me.

Tenant: “I’ve got a favour I want to ask you. Would you mind if you moved out during August so my daughter who is visiting can stay in your room? Don’t worry; you wouldn’t have to pay any rent for that month.”

I pause in shock for a second.

Me: “Um, no. I’m working over August. I need to use my room.”

Tenant: “Oh, but aren’t you going home for the summer?”

Me: “No, I’m working in the lab over the summer.”

Tenant: “But you’re a student.”

Me: “Yes, I’m a doctoral student. It’s a full-time job. I only get twenty-eight days of holiday, which I imagine is the same as you. I’m not going to put in for all my holiday just because you want your daughter to use the room.”

Tenant: “Oh. Really? Oh, in that case, never mind.”

At that point, I gave him the news that I’d found a new flat and would be moving out.

The next day, I had a thought. I’m young for a Ph.D. student in Switzerland. (I was twenty-two when I first arrived, and all of the other students in the building were three to eight years older than me.) It didn’t help that I have a baby face. I think that somewhere along the line, the “doctoral” part got dropped, and the guy thought I was an undergrad and based his respect on that. The whole situation made me so glad I’d already got a new place.

I work in the lingerie department at a department store. This guy comes in.

Customer: “I’m looking for something sexy for my girlfriend.”

Me: “What size is she?”

He looks me up and down in the creepiest possible way.

Customer: “About your size.”

Whenever a guy is creepy, I do my usual thing where I get them to spend way too much on lingerie, which both drains their bank account — thus getting me a good commission — and makes sure that whoever the creep is dating at least gets something good out of the relationship.

A week later, the same guy comes in with a woman — who is definitely not my size — and his two small children. I glance at the woman’s finger and realize that she is not in fact his “girlfriend” but his wife. He sort of sheepishly stands behind her, not making eye contact with me, while she returns the lingerie he bought (I think it was probably for the person he is having an affair with) because it obviously doesn’t fit her.

I don’t want to be the one to break it to her. I mean, it isn’t completely inconceivable that he just “accidentally” called her his girlfriend and completely estimated the wrong size for her. So instead, I happily take back the lingerie and then make sure the guy spends hours waiting while I find his wife multiple more expensive items in her size to replace them with.

While I’m ringing her up, she thanks me.

Wife: “I don’t know how he got my size so wrong; he’s always gotten it right before.”

In response, I sort of shrugged, but I shot the guy a look of absolute disgust, which I think she caught. I overheard her start to interrogate him about my reaction on the way out.

I never knew what happened after, but I hope that woman ran for the hills from that a**hole.

I used to be a manager in billing. A caller was screaming at one of my agents to the point that she was crying. The conversation went like this before they got to me.

Caller: “My services went out for half an hour, and I demand a credit!”

Agent: “Yes, ma’am, I can offer $25 as a courtesy credit.”

Caller: “Are you joking? That’s nowhere near enough to compensate me for my inconvenience! I know they hire idiots at your company, but you have to be the lowest of the low to think of even offering a figure that low! Put me through to your manager as it’s obvious I am just going to be wasting my time with you!”

She put the caller through to her supervisor.

Supervisor: “My agent was correct and following procedure by offering a $25 courtesy credit, ma’am. Since you have expressed that this outage has severely inconvenienced you, I can offer you $50.”

Caller: “You idiots aren’t getting it, are you?! I have been severely inconvenienced, and you think a measly $50 is going to cut it? Your company makes billions! Put me through to the manager; this is a waste of my time!”

The call got to me and irritated me to the point that I was grinding my teeth.

Me: “Well, ma’am, I have listened to the gist of the calls, and all I have heard is you hurling abuse at my agents for following correct and proper procedure. Therefore, I will not be offering the $50 that you should have taken from the supervisor, and I will not even be allowing the original $25 that was offered by my agent.”

Caller: “No! You have to give me the $50! You agreed!”

Me: “And you rejected it, so that offer is gone. But I am a fair man, and I am aware that your service was genuinely out for half an hour. At your current bill, that comes to four cents prorated, but I’ll make it eight cents and round it up to an hour since I’m a nice guy. You’ll see that credited in your next bill. Is there anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”

Caller: “You f******—”

Me: “Thank you for calling, and have a great day!” *Click*

We have a coworker who is neurodivergent. He’s worked for the store longer than almost anyone else save a few managers, and he is known for keeping the fresh fruit and vegetable sections looking like works of art.

[Coworker] doesn’t interact with the customers too often due to some social anxieties and other factors, so he comes in very early at the same time as the produce shipments and makes sure the displays are perfect (and I do mean perfect) with minimal customer overlap. His shift is usually over only an hour or so after we start letting in customers.

Something happens with [Coworker]’s family, and he has to take two weeks off for it. He’s not too happy with this, as he is comforted greatly by his routine, but we’ve all been encouraging him how great he’s been doing in “trying new things” lately, and he can tell us all about his trip when he gets back.

Coworker: “Oh, no, that’s not what I am worried about. I’m worried about the displays. I have a specific way I make the apple pyramids, and it looks better when the cucumbers are stacked diagonal, not to mention—” 

Manager: “[Coworker], while I know for a fact that no one can do that better than you, we’ll find a way to manage without you, I promise.”

[Coworker] goes on his trip, and while we make our best effort, we can’t make the fruit and vegetable displays look as amazing as he does. It gets to the point where it’s noticed by the customers, and I have a variation of this conversation multiple times.

Customer #1: “Oh, your fruit displays aren’t as neat as they usually are. I know it’s a little thing, but it always makes my day when I can tell someone has made a conscious decision to stack the loose carrots by size. These things go noticed, you know!”

Me: “I’m glad you noticed, and yes, our regular stocker is off for the next two weeks.”

Customer #1: “Oh! Nothing bad, I hope?”

Me: “Not that I am aware, but I do know he’s looking forward to coming back to work to make the displays all pretty again!” 

After the two weeks are up, [Coworker] returns to work, and within a day, the displays are back to the perfect standards he is known for. This time, the regulars have noticed, and in that small window when [Coworker] and the customers are in the store at the same time, variations of the following conversation occur.

Customer #2: “Excuse me. Are you the man who puts out the fruits and vegetables?” 

Coworker: “Uh… yes. I am.”

Customer #2: “You do such a wonderful job! You were missed when you were away! You can tell they did their best in your absence, and I know it’s only a silly little thing, but it really is joyous to see how much care you put into your work! Now that I know it’s you, I simply had to thank you.”

Coworker: “Oh… uh… you’re welcome.”

Rinse and repeat to the point where, the next time I see [Coworker] in the break room:

Coworker: “I had to go away for two weeks because my grandad died. My mum was there, and she told me that I wasn’t going to ever make anyone happy in my life. But since I got back, I’ve been told that I’ve made six complete strangers very happy.”

Me: “Oh, my. I’m sorry about your mum, but I am glad you made some people happy.”

Coworker: “I think I am going to try some new designs with the cabbages tomorrow. That will show them!” 

Our manager has since promoted [Coworker] to the head of the produce department, and he’s developed several regulars who are “fans”. He even hangs around a little longer at the end of his shift instead of leaving immediately to talk to them.

The displays have only gotten better and better.