Reading earlier about a railway worker who was spat at by a traveller when asked to pull their mask up before getting on the train, got me thinking about when I used to work in local government housing and maintenance.
Personally, I think everyone should have at least 6 months in a role dealing with the general public. Until you have done it, you have no idea what it is like being on the receiving end of the entitlement and downright batshittery.
I could probably write a book but one story came to mind. Very long story short. Elderly lady moved into council bungalow. Asked me to get some shelves put up in the kitchen for her. I explained that we didn't do this type of work, only repairs and maintenance. She must have rung up every week for months. Anyway, winter rolls around and the carpenters had caught up with all the internal work and the dreadful weather was stopping all but essential external work. Following a chat with the works superintendent he decided to send a chippy round to put up some shelves on the understanding that she didn't tell everyone so we weren't inundated with similar requests and this was definitely a one off. Work gets done. Lady happy. Two weeks later I had a letter from her son asking for his mother to be compensated for the electricity said chippy had used while cutting wood and drilling holes in the wall for shelves. I swear this is true.
At the opposite end, I had a lovely tenant who lost her front door key about three times a month. I got locks changed, windows mended when neighbours had to break in for her. I got her a chain to hang round her neck with a key on - she lost it. In the end I had a supply in my drawer and when they nearly ran out I got more cut. Must have had dozens cut. Comes round to Christmas and and she very sweetly brings me in a tub of Quality Street because "I don't know what I would have done without you dear". Try to explain (loudly, because she was very deaf) that we are not allowed to accept gifts. She bursts into tears because I won't take them and I start getting hassle from others in reception wanting to know why I'm making an old lady cry. Eventually boss comes out of his office to see what all the commotion is and tells me to take the tin to keep the lady happy and when she has gone just put them on reception so everyone can help themselves. Great, wish I had thought of that. I go off to answer the phone and when I finish I think, right I'll have a couple of sweets. Get to the desk and some bastard has nicked the whole tin!
Come on Mumsnetters, there must be some great stories out there.