I work at a bank. Obviously, security is important here. I answer the phone.

Me: “Hello, you’re speaking to—”

Client: *Drunk and angry* “F*** off and listen. My card isn’t working, and I’m in a bar in Thailand waiting to get my c**k sucked. Fix it now.”

Me: “And this is a [Bank] card, correct?”

Client: “Of course it is. Why else would I ring you?”

Me: “All right, sir, but first—”

He swears under his breath.

Me: “I need your customer ID number.”

Client: “What the f*** is that?”

Me: “Your sixteen-digit number used for telephone and online banking.”

Client: “How the f*** am I supposed to know that?”

Me: “[Bank] gives this number to you when you join us. It starts with your birthday and ends with four other numbers you should know.”

Client: *Shouting* “Well, I don’t f****** know it, so just fix my card.”

I tell him that before I can fix his card, I need to identify who he even is. I ask for his sort code and account number, and he only knows the sort code. I use this to bring up the first page of his account, which gives basics but no security information. It indicates that he is bankrupt, which may explain why the card isn’t working.

Me: “Unfortunately, you will have to call back tomorrow and speak to the fraud team so they can ID you.”

Client: “What the f****** f*** do you mean ‘call tomorrow’? I need it fixed now! If you don’t, I’ll sue you — not the bank, you — for not allowing me to just access my account without any hassle. Do you know who I am? I have millions of pounds in your bank, and I will ruin you.”

Remember, he’s bankrupt.

Me: “Sir, threatening me will accomplish nothing. [Bank] has specific guidelines to protect you, your account, and those ‘millions’ of pounds.”

A heavy silence.

Client: “Did you say ‘[Bank]’?”

Me: “Yes, my name is [My Name], and I work for [Bank].”

Client: “Never mind. This is a [Bank #2] card.”

I live in Europe, but I work as a contractor for a client in America.

Client: “I have been reviewing your hours, and you working in your evening time is unacceptable.”

Me: “We discussed that shifting my hours to the evening would make it so that more of my hours would overlap with your hours.”

Client: “I just don’t see how you could do your best work in the evening.”

Me: “Well, what hours would work best for you?”

Client: “You need to work core business hours for your timezone. Early mornings are necessary for system upgrades and maintenance. You also need to be available to take calls from me and other clients in the afternoons and evenings, and possibly at night. There are also a few holes in the weekend and afternoon schedule that could use your attention.”

Me: “You just asked me to work twenty-four-seven.”

Client: “And?”

Me: “Now type in your password again.”

Client: “I can’t. I don’t know what it is.”

Me: “It’s the one you just typed in.”

Client: “I know, but I already forgot it.”

Me: “Okay, let’s write it down on a piece of paper.”

Client: “I already did; it’s right here.”

Client: “We’re testing the site in Android, and it’s not rerendering when switching views from portrait to landscape.”

Me: “Wait, what? We have been designing in responsive from day one, and it’s rerendering on all our test devices here. We wouldn’t purposefully send out code that’s broken.”

Client: “It’s not working. You didn’t plan for this, and it’s a big mess as a result.”

Me: “What device are you on? Tell me what you’re seeing, and send me a screenshot. If there’s a problem, I need specifics so we can address it. We don’t want you unhappy.”

He hung up after a terse goodbye. After an hour with no information, I sent a panicked email reasserting my request. He replied, simply, “Don’t worry.”

It turns out that the screen position was locked, so the device wouldn’t reorient itself.

I’m a graphic designer. A bar wants me to design a mascot for them. They’ve got a fairly firm image: they want a cartoon dog holding a martini.

I design a few cartoon dogs for them and let them pick which breed is their favorite. For the next project, they want me to do some word art with the dog’s name, “Ruffi”.

Me: “Uh… like a roofie?”

Client: “Yeah! It’s a word that’s associated with alcohol, and it’s a noise that a dog makes! It’s a pun! It’ll be great!”

Me: “I think maybe people will find it insensitive. Maybe name the dog ‘Hair’ or ‘Bitty’, as in ‘hair of the dog that bit you’? Or you could call it a ‘Scotch terrier’? Or, well, anything but ‘Ruffi’.”

Client: “We’re not paying you for opinions on the dog’s name.”

Me: “All right.”

One year later, the guy asked for a refund because customers found the dog’s name creepy, and it was driving away business. I pointed out our earlier email chain. He did not get a refund.

He did, however, pay me to make word art for the dog’s new name.