Particularly when the client calls back and asks for a different person assuming we don’t ever speak to each other about client calls. :rolleyes:
Anything under this heading, really. Had a vendor who was supposed to be working on our conference room A/V equipment tell my in-house A/V contact that he’d talked to someone in my office two weeks ago about scheduling a visit (who asked him who he talked to and couldn’t get a name or verify that it happened). Then that vendor contact tried to pull the same shit on me.
“Yeah, I talked to someone about coming back…”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, not you, there was some other gentleman from your office.”
“There is *no other person *in this office you would have talked to. I am the *only person *who could have called you, or who would have picked up the phone if you called. And you didn’t talk to me.”
Jackass.
What I love is that my name is a “guy’s” name and so when I answer the phone and don’t state my name - they call and say,
“Yeah, Mr. Harmonius said for you to put me right through to him. He’s expecting my call. . . .”
Oh, God. Seriously, Co-Worker Who Is Running Fantasy Football: I said “no” cheerfully and politely the 1st time you asked. I said “no” politely the 2nd time you asked. I said “no” the 3rd time you asked. So why the fuck do you keep asking me if I’ll join your fantasy football?!? I have no interest in real-life sports; why the fuck would I piss away money I don’t have for FAKE sports?!?
(To be fair, I do the whole “asking again when you don’t like the answer given” thing to The Other Shoe sometimes, too. But not six or eight times in a row! If Co-Worker asks me one more damn time, I’m gonna throw something at him.)
You think that’s bad.
Last Monday, a “work friend” said his wife was stopping by and asked if I’d like to meet her. Sure, okay.
So, I get a call at lunchtime (he knows I eat at my desk most of the time) and he says come to conference room A. Why not just drop by? Come on, you’ll see when you get here. Okay.
Go to the conference room, he’s there with a female co-worker from our department, and his wife. He inroduces her and right away I sense trouble.
Turns out I’ve been lured to a work prayer meeting by someone who knows how I feel about religion (accepting of others but atheist) and the two women are now talking in that botty, fake-cheerful evangelistic voice about peace, etc. Uh-oh. I sit for a few minutes just to be polite but really need to get back to get something that needs to be done out the door.
When I say this, Wifey-Bot says, “Before you go, will you join us in prayer?” My first impulse is to say “Hell, fucking no,” but I catch myself and say, “No, thanks, I’ll leave you guys to enjoy that on your own.” Let’s just say I’m wouldn’t be the world’s best poker player, but do Bots read facial expressions and body language? As I inch towards the door, they push for me to join them again. "No, I have to go now. Nice meeting you, [del]Bot[/del] bye.
It’s bad enough you’re holding prayer meetings on company property (I’ve heard this has increased as evangelism has risen), it’s bad enough you lure me to one the way you did knowing how I feel, but when you are so pushy about me praying with you, you almost force me to be rude and judgmental about your religion, which I’m usually not.
Heh…how about my second favorite thing: the person doesn’t like your answer to a question, so they go ask your supervisor the question. Bonus points if it’s a manager asking the question.
Fuck. Fucking United Way season is starting at work. I hate, hate, hate this time of year. No, I am NOT giving United Way my money. I don’t give a shit how much you pressure me or whether it means I’m a “team player.” It’s just not going to happen. Now, go fuck yourselves. Thanks.
Do you want to go to the picnic?
No.
Are you sure?
Yes, I don’t want to go.
But blah, blah, blah. Are you sure you don’t want to go?
YES I AM SURE. I DON’T WANT TO GO.
Really? It’ll be a lot of fun. Are you sure you don’t want to go?
FUCK OFF ALREADY, I TOLD YOU I DON’T WANT TO GO.
Gee, what are you so angry about? I’m only asking if you want to go to the picnic! Gosh, you need some anger management classes!
To the drunk who banged on my door and tried every key he had several times. At 6pm.
This is not your apartment. The number is right next to the door. It isn’t yours.
You should have heard my TV, and me walking around. That and the fact that your keys didn’t work should have clued you in. If that didn’t, the fact that I walked up to the door and said very loudly “Haven’t you figured out that this isn’t your apartment yet? GO AWAY” should have done so. But no, you just mumbled, shuffled around and went back to trying your keys and banging on the door. So then I had to yell “This isn’t your apartment. GO AWAY” again before you figured it out and shuffled off.
No, I’m not opening my door to see who you are. Been there, done that, had the terrified psychotic woman trying frantically to get past me into my apartment (years ago) because she thought it was her daughters place. I don’t open the door for drunks or psychos anymore. I stand inside, mentally reviewing my arsenal of weaponry and considering how to react if you bust down the door.
And seriously dude? Drunk at 6pm on a Monday? So drunk that you’re trying to get into the wrong apartment? Get some help.
I had to check to see if my husband had posted this. 
OMFG, that was one of the worst highway drives we have EVER had. Rain for 90% of the normally 6.25 hour drive; pouring, driving, heavy rain for 50% of it, and crawling in first gear for about 25% of it. It took us 7 1/2 hours, driving in miserable conditions. Only one near miss, though, as the line of traffic we were in came to a dead stop in front of us for no apparent reason. And when we got into town, we hit the hardest rain we’d seen all day - zero visibility and rain so heavy the streets were flooded (and the evidence of the hail was still around, mostly in the form of my poor plants flattened again). So glad to be home.
You should have told them it would be too dangerous for you to pray with them since you’d most likely burst into flames.
I am usually a very polite person, but I don’t think I could have managed this as well as you did. I’m angry for you!
So, mom, really?
“Oh, I was hoping that maybe the reason why you didn’t call me yesterday was because maybe you and your bf were trying out for “The Biggest Loser.” Y’know, they were having auditions in his hometown yesterday. I would love to be on that show, but they won’t take people who only have to lose 30 lbs. sigh”
I’m just thankful that you’ve made me so immune to your insanity that I just paused and didn’t react. And your follow-up cheery “That probably wasn’t a very nice thing for me to say, was it?” was not an apology.
I am going to appreciate you anyway, for giving me the motivation to constantly work harder - knowing that no matter what I do well, you are always going to have what’s ‘wrong’ with me foremost in your mind.
Ah, so you work for a large engineering firm with main offices in southern Spain? Cos that’s what my current customers have been doing.
Dear phone/DSL company:
You sent the contract, and it had several minor pieces of information missing and my second lastname wrong. Now, the first lastname, ok, it’s weird and unusual and has a strange structure. But the second one? The second one? According to the Spanish census, 2 of every thousand people in Spain has it. I could see mistaking it for either of two other similar lastnames, but what you did was equivalent to spelling Smith as Esmiz.
I called and asked for the information to be corrected, explaining that I will not sign a document which has either my name, my bank information or my ID# wrong, so they’d need to send an updated copy.
Then I wrote a few days later, “where is my new contract?” “Oh, just send the original one.” “I don’t even have it, I do not sign documents with the wrong name, ID# or bank info. Please send a new copy.” “Oh, sure, our pleasure.”
The new copy has the minor information added, but my lastname is still wrong - which is exactly the reason why I wanted to see a new copy of the contract, because when someone can screw up things that badly, I don’t trust them to be able to fix them.
So, waiting for copy number 3…
Gah - this kind of thing is so rude. Do they expect you to instantly convert after being misled like this?
I can picture them thinking ‘We’ll get descamisado yet!’
IMO, that’s the best way to deal with this. “I’m sorry, I’ve already declined several times. Is there any reason you keep asking, or is there anything I can do to help you remember I’m not interested?”
That should be an instant fucking visit to HR. No way is that remotely acceptable. Inviting you to join them for a prayer meeting over lunch, fine, as long as they accept when you (inevitably) decline. Tricking you into a prayer meeting and then not taking no for an answer? *Completely *fucking unacceptable, and you can bet your ass they’re doing it to other people, too.
Give them a copy of all the info about why United Way blows in fourteen-point font. If they keep asking you to donate, refer them back to the document.
Feel free to point out to her that 30 pounds overweight is still overweight, and a small enough amount that *she should be more than able to drop it if she’s not a lazy fatty. Then, you may also wish to inform her that you’re feeling peckish and inquire whether she may have a ham sandwich secreted between her folds that you could snack on.
*That’s secret-ed, not secrete-ed, although the ability to ooze ham sandwiches would be kind of awesome.
Sounds like my mom! I honestly think the thing I’ve done to make her the most proud is lose weight - and while difficult, it’s also hardly the most difficult or noteworthy thing I’ve done.
She wonders why I don’t want to tell her about things that are going on in my life - she just tells me what I’m doing wrong and what I could be doing better. Of course, she’s “just trying to help!”
I thought it was going to be a sneak Tupperware party attack…
Why the hell would you send me an email asking me to talk to you about arranging some travel? Since you’re sending the email, why not just give me the fucking date you need the hotel for? Then I could have just booked it right away instead of sitting with my thumb up my ass waiting for you to get into the office.
God, my boss makes the worst weak-ass coffee. I just had a full cup and was still feeling… un-sparkly… started to think maybe I’m depressed… but then, no! I remembered boss made the coffee today and it’s just like drinking a nice, hot, steaming cup of… hot water. Worthless.