About a decade ago, I moved from one coast to the other for work. My cell phone provider didn’t have great coverage in my new location, so once my contract was up (after about two months), I switched providers.

All was well until about four months later when I got an email from my previous provider telling me I owed them almost $400. Confused, I called them up.

Representative: “I see here that you ordered a [Smartphone].”

Me: “What? No, I didn’t. My account is closed. It’s been closed for six months.”

Representative: “The item was ordered from your account and shipped to [City in my previous state].”

Me: *Annoyed and in disbelief* “Are you telling me that your company accepted an order from a closed account and shipped it to a state that your own records show I don’t live in anymore?”

There was a long pause.

Representative: “Okay, you don’t need to worry about this. We’ll take care of it.” *Click*

Sure enough, I never heard about it again.

I live with my mother, and I cook for both of us most of the time. However, on this particular evening and after a long day at work, neither of us has the will to cook, so we decide to order sushi. I open the take-out app on my phone and select the options we want. It’s 7:00 pm, and the order will arrive around 7:45 pm, so we wait.

Around 8:00 pm, nothing has arrived. I call the restaurant, and they tell us the driver just left with our order; he should arrive in around twenty minutes. We wait some more.

At 9:00 pm, still no food. I call the restaurant again, and they say the driver is two streets away. Fifteen minutes later — yes, for two streets — the delivery guy is at the door. He gives me our order without an apology for arriving so late, and he leaves.

I check the bag, and our desserts are missing. Again, I call the restaurant.

Restaurant: “[Restaurant], good evening!”

Me: “Good evening. I called you twice tonight to enquire about our order for [our address]. We finally received it, but we are missing the desserts.”

Restaurant: “Our apology for the inconvenience. We’ll remove the price of [desserts] from your next order.”

Me: “When will the delivery person arrive with them?”

Restaurant: “Look, we’re not gonna send him out again just for some desserts.”

I start to lose my cool.

Me: “No, I disagree. I paid for those desserts, and I want them delivered.”

Restaurant: “We understand that you paid for them, which is why we’ll remove the price of the desserts from your next order.”

Me: “No. The delivery we expected for 7:45 pm arrived an hour and a half late, we were missing items, and now you’re telling me you’re not going to send what was missing? There won’t be any more orders from our end.”

Restaurant: “Well, you did order from [Delivery App]…”

Me: “Are you saying it’s my fault?”

Restaurant: “No, that’s not what I meant.”

Me: “Do you really think it’s acceptable? The order arrived more than an hour late, half of the order is missing, you are refusing to send the rest of the food I paid for, and I am somehow responsible for this whole fiasco because I ordered through [Delivery App]. Is that what you are saying? And you expect me to order from you again?”

Restaurant: “Sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Me: “Wrong. You can send what’s missing.”

We went back and forth, and they ultimately refused to send the rest of my order. I placed a scathing review on the page of the restaurant.

Another hour later, the delivery person called me. He had forgotten the desserts in the back of his car, and he offered to deliver them.

The desserts were ice cream mochis — left in a car on a hot summer evening for an hour. I declined.

For decades, my wife and I kept extended warranties on our appliances such as our refrigerators and washers. Whenever we booked a repair from the company that we purchased the appliance from, they always asked which time slot I wanted: either 8:00 to 12:00 or 1:00 to 5:00. No matter which time slot I chose, it seemed that I was the last stop in the time slot I chose, so I’d wait over three hours for them arrive.

We had a new refrigerator that needed a third repair within the first year we purchased it, so it qualified for the lemon law, and we were entitled to a new appliance at no cost. Per procedures, they sent a technician for this repair, and after looking at my fridge, he ordered parts for this repair to be sent to our address.

In the meantime, we received our brand-new replacement fridge, so the service representative called and asked if they could pick up the parts for the repair that had already been delivered to our home.

Me: “Sure. On Friday, I will be home for thirty minutes between 8:00 and 12:00, and for thirty minutes between 1:00 and 5:00. So, what time period would you like?”

The line went silent, and then she hung up. They never picked up the parts, ever.

I’m an admin at a construction company. My supervisor — the site manager — and I share an office that is separate from the main area of the job trailer. My desk is visible from the door because it is my responsibility to handle the day-to-day tasks and people need to know where I am, but my supervisor’s desk is against the wall beside the door, not visible unless you walk in. We have four trailers onsite: ours, three subcontractors, and the customer, all with large signs on the front and side of each trailer marking which trailer is which.

A delivery driver comes into our trailer and calls out.

Driver: “Hey, I have a shipment here!”

I walk out of the office.

Me: “Coming! Who is it for?”

Driver: “[Subcontractor]. Sign here.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, that goes to the next trailer.”

I point in the direction of the subcontractor’s trailer about ten feet from ours.

Driver: “I just need a signature, ma’am.”

Me: “No problem. You just have to take it to the building beside this one. It has a [Subcontractor] sign on the door.”

Driver: *Irritated* “Okay, sweetheart. Just sign so I can get going.”

Me: *Firmly* “No. You need to deliver it to the proper location.” *Points to the shipping label* “It says right here that it goes to the [Subcontractor] trailer.”

Driver: “Look, honey, I don’t have time for this s***. If you’re rejecting the delivery, then—”

My supervisor comes out of the office.

Supervisor: “Listen, man! She’s not rejecting it; she’s telling you you’re in the wrong place. Get your f****** head out of your f****** a** and walk ten more feet to the next door.”

The driver stands in silent shock.

Supervisor: “Go!”

The driver pales and walks out without another word. [Supervisor] puts his hands on my shoulders and shakes me gently while he groans. 

Supervisor: *Laughing* “[My Name]! Why are people so stupid?”

Me: *Laughing* “I’m sorry! I was trying to tell him; he just wasn’t listening.”

Supervisor: “I know. It’s not your fault. I won’t allow the workers to talk to you like that; I sure won’t let some random person do it.”

Me: “Thank you.”

I do swear now and then but normally only when I do something tremendously stupid. I’m not bothered by other people swearing if that’s their thing, but I really appreciated [Supervisor] coming in and taking care of business.

We did report the driver to the company and were told it was taken care of internally. I haven’t seen him since, so I don’t know if he was reassigned or outright fired.

A few years ago, I received a phone call from a Human Resources person from a staffing agency I almost worked for at one point. I got through the greetings and small talk and got down to business.

HR: “I have a person you know applying for a job with one of our customers.”

Me: “I’m confused; no one gave me a heads up. Who are we talking about?”

HR: “Your friend, [Person’s First Name].”

Me: “Who?”

HR: “[Person’s Full Name] — he said he worked with you at [Email Company].”

Me: “Ohhh, okay. I remember him. But I’m not sure why he’d put my name down. We didn’t work all that closely. I interacted with his team only peripherally because we had equipment in his office. I don’t really feel comfortable providing a reference.”

HR: “That’s sort of our fault; we sort of pressured him to cough up references on the fly.”

Me: “I don’t feel comfortable providing a reference.”

HR: “Come on, [My Name]. We know each other. Help me out.”

Me: “Well, not being his manager, I can’t discuss his performance.”

HR: “Okay. Can I ask you about his technical skills? Can you comment on those?”

Me: “Fine, ask away.”

HR: “How is [Person] with [Software Package]?”

Me: “Okay, I guess. Maybe 2.5 out of five.”

A five out of five is extremely rare for this software. I might be at 4.7, and I’ve used the software for over twenty years, and I’ve even flown to the vendor’s headquarters to work on technology issues and help design future versions of products with them.

HR: “Great! How is he with [Hardware Platform]?”

Me: “Well, in the time he was at [Email Company], he never touched the platform. If he gained knowledge from elsewhere, I can’t comment.”

HR: “Wait, that can’t be right. He said he led the [Hardware Platform] refresh project.”

Me: “That’s not true.”

HR: “[Email Company] is huge. Is it possible you weren’t aware of the project?”

Me: “No. I’m very aware of the project, and he wasn’t leading it.”

HR: “How can you be so sure?”

Me: “Because I led that project.”

HR: *Very uncomfortably* “Oh.”

Me: “I think it’s best for everyone that we end the call here. I think you have a phone call to make.”

HR: “Yeah, that’s probably best.”

I didn’t necessarily bash him but just set the record straight.