I am sixteen, at my first job at a big grocery retailer. I am working stock in the noodle aisle when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s a middle-aged gentleman. He just looks at me and says the word:

Customer: “Corn.”

Me: “We have canned corn, fresh, and frozen.”

Customer: “Corn on the cob.”

I walk him over to the produce department, and we are sold out. This is normal for the time of year; it’s winter.

Me: “I’m afraid we’re out in produce, but we have frozen corn on the cobb.”

Customer: “No! The freezer ruins it! You’re hiding the corn for yourselves due to the corn shortage!”

Me: “Sir, it’s simply out of season and harder to get in the wintertime. I think this store does have it from time to time in the winter, but it’s mostly limited to canned and frozen options.”

Customer: “I want to speak to the manager!”

The manager is a tough but fair woman who tells everything how it is. I call her, and she comes to the area. The customer immediately goes off about the hidden corn again.

Customer: “I know about your corn parties!”

My manager and I both fight back the laughter. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Corn is good, but who would have a party with corn?

Customer: “You are not taking me seriously! My wife will be very angry when she hears about this!”

Manager: “I’m afraid that there is nothing I can do. All the corn we have is what you see on display.”

Customer: “I will make sure that the wrath of corporate will come down upon you both!”

He storms out, and my manager recognizes me as one of the new hires.

Manager: “Everyone eventually gets their ‘welcome to retail’ story. Yours is the guy causing a scene over a corn conspiracy.”

Me: “A cornspiracy!“

Manager: “Shush! We don’t want the customers to overhear!”

My nickname was “Cornspiracy” for the rest of my time there!

Related:
Welcome To Retail, Part 8
Welcome To Retail, Part 7
Welcome To Retail, Part 6
Welcome To Retail, Part 5
Welcome To Retail, Part 4

My client got the idea that filenames still can’t contain spaces. In her spare time, she goes through all of the files on her company’s server, meticulously replacing all the spaces with underscores.

She can’t grasp that the fact that the filenames already contain spaces is proof that they can, in fact, contain spaces.

I work as a tech support guy in an elementary school. One day, I was asked by an older female teacher (probably fifty-five or older) why her projector wasn’t working and if I could come take a look.

I arrived and found that it wasn’t even plugged in.

Me: “Where is the plug?”

Teacher: “I don’t have it.”

Me: “Oh, that’s okay. I can probably get you a new plug, but I need to find one. I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

But she wasn’t having any of it. She insisted that I make the projector work wirelessly and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Me: “That simply isn’t possible. Wireless electricity hasn’t been invented yet.”

She refused to listen. Then, she took out her phone.

Teacher: “If my phone can connect to the Wi-Fi wirelessly, why can’t the projector?”

I had to explain that Wi-Fi and electricity are different things, but she became angry and started threatening to report me to the principal.

I tried to remain calm and explained the situation to her again, but she refused to listen and accused me of being incompetent.

Eventually, I had to leave the classroom without solving her problem. It was a frustrating experience, but sometimes there’s just no way to make things work the way people want them to.

I later spoke to the principal and explained the situation to her, and luckily, she understood that the teacher’s request was unreasonable.

I don’t know if it’s just my resort that gets this or if it’s everywhere, but so many people come and check in with “service dogs”, and it is so painfully obvious that they’re not really service dogs. This happens during check-in.

Customer: “Just so you know, I have a service dog: a black poodle, golden retriever mix. It’s for medical alert.”

This dog isn’t with her during check-in.

When we ask her the two questions we are legally allowed to ask, she gets angry and threatens us.

Customer: “You’ll get in trouble for asking those questions!”

I pull out our booklet and literally show her the law before she gives up. As we’re doing this, her husband brings the dog in, and this furry friend can’t even listen to being told to sit. Before I can even finish checking them in, it tries to jump on other guests and barks.

Me: “Ma’am, I am not convinced that this is a service dog.”

The woman tries to talk to me but is being pulled away by the dog who has discovered an interesting new smell.

Customer: “I told you that you will be in trouble if you deny access to my service dog!”

Me: “Your dog has been in the lobby for five minutes, and it has disobeyed your every order, bothered other guests, and been a noise nuisance. This behavior is bad for a dog in general, let alone a service dog.”

Customer: “That’s it! I’m going to complain! Where is your manager?!”

Manager: “I’m standing right behind you, and I am charging you the hotel’s pet fee, plus a cleaning fee.”

Customer: “That’s discrimination! Why am I being charged a cleaning fee?!”

Manager: “Because I doubt the steaming turd next to us was made by one of our other guests, ma’am.”

He points down to the recently-deposited evidence.

Customer: “Oh, s***!”

“Oh, s***,” indeed! They were charged the pet fee and a cleaning fee, and we took a bigger deposit against their room. They had to check out early since the dog was such a barker that we got multiple noise complaints.

This story reminded me of a sort-of reversal that happened to me.

While in the gym, I sprained my ankle. In the beginning, I ignored it and medicated, but as the pain persisted, on day four of this injury I decided to go to the ER. As I lived alone, was young, and not exactly without means, I decided to call a cab rather than an ambulance or going by foot.

The cab could not get into the ER’s loading bay, obviously, so I had to hobble to the acceptation/patient input desk. The man behind the desk scolded me for waiting four days (which was fair)… and for:

Front Desk: “It was stupid of you to come all the way here by foot instead of calling an ambulance.”

Me: “I came by cab exactly because I knew going by foot was a terrible idea.”

Front Desk: “You still walked several more meters than needed! An ambulance is better.”

Me: “I didn’t want to pay the ‘GOMER Tax’—” *Or, in other words, pay the ambulance for its misuse in picking me up.* “—as I wasn’t otherwise immobilised, let alone at risk of dying! Dozens of other people out there need it more than me.”

He gave me the ID bracelet while still berating me for not wasting hospital resources on picking up my code-white butt from home.

I am not sure whether he was not listening to how I came in, or if he thought a sprained ankle was considered eligible for free ambulance rides like breaking a bone is.