booktea92: OMG, I have so many. So. many.
While working retail, a womans acrylic fingernail came off without her knowing. She came back an hour later, freaking the f*** out, and made us search the entire store for the fingernail. It was like a $20 fingernail (Japanese 3D nails with pearls, crystals, hello kitty, glitter, the works) so she was delighted when we found it in the dressing room. She picked it up, dropped it in my hand (ew), and asked me to wash it in the sink for her. I shook my head and she got all pissy with me. Seriously lady, you made us look for a FINGERNAIL and now you want me to WASH it!? Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
Same job. We had a guy that came in every. single. day. He somehow learned everyone’s name and schedule (it seemed) and would greet us by name when he came in. He was a nice guy, so no one was really too bothered by his oddness, figuring he heard us talking to each other and heard our names that way, but then he started calling me and my friend by our legal names (that no one even knew or used) and it turned creepy fast. He was banned from the store.
At my gymnastics job, I “taught” a mommy/daddy and me class for 2-4 years olds (basically they just did the obstable course I set up). When the kid could do the course without much assistance for a week or two, they got moved up to the pre-k section with the older, “more advanced” kids and a “harder” course. You wouldn’t believe how often crazy parents who were green with envy would demand that I move up their little princess or prince because they were so “skilled”. One mom screamed at me after class because I wouldn’t move her child up to the next class. Mind you, this child threw a tantrum every week, would try to bite other kids, and just had a massive diaper blow out the week before. That would go over well with the potty trained group, I’m sure. She left the center screaming about how he was the next “olympic male gymnast” and we’d be sorry. Ooookkkay then, crazy lady.
At my current IT-ish job, I got a support call from a lady who couldn’t get her computer to work. So I went through the general troubleshooting speel, but she was so confused, it was apparent she needed more help. I started from the beginning and asked her what kind of computer she had, and she responded, “well, it’s white…” and that’s when I knew this was a *special* type of call. She didn’t know if it was a desktop or laptop (“it sits on my desk – so maybe a desktop?”) so I had to ask her if she could pick up her computer and walk into another room with it. She said, “no, it’s heavy and there’s this plug connected to it”. So, technically she was right about it being a desktop, but still. She had no idea what she was doing.