In a maze of offices, most lost visitors check a directory, ask politely, or simply retrace their steps.

One woman, however, preferred a different approach: Ignoring all directions and steamrolling her way into an architect’s office to demand help!

You’ll want to read on for this one.

Lady is reporting me to the medical board. I’m an architect.

I work in an architecture firm, in a large building that also contains many other types of professional offices.

The receptionist for my firm is on another floor.

My office is on an upper floor, in a corner, so it’s not a logical place for people to go first when they come to our building and don’t know where they’re going.

One day, a confused visitor stumbled into their office, clearly confused.

Nevertheless, it has a door directly to a main corridor, so lost people occasionally knock on it, which is why we have a sign on it with the name of our firm and directions to our receptionist on the third floor.

Alas, the sign did not deter this middle-aged, impatient, lost lady and her husband from knocking on my door.

Lady: “Is this the doctor’s office?”

They try their best to help.

Me: “No, this is an architecture firm.”

Lady: “How do I get to the doctor’s office?”

Me: “There are building directories in the stairs and at the elevator.”

But it soon becomes clear she wasn’t going to make things easy.

(I start to give her directions to the stairs and elevator, but she interrupts.)

Lady (getting huffy and impatient and pushing her way past me right into the middle of my office): “Why can’t you just tell me where the doctor’s office is?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there are a lot of offices in this building, including at least ten doctors’ offices, and I don’t know their floors or office numbers.”

Nothing the architect suggests seems to be good enough.

Lady: “Can’t you call and find out?”

Me: “I’d be happy to let you use my phone…”

Lady: “Why can’t you call?”

Me (sensing I’m not going to get rid of her unless I call somebody): “What’s the doctor’s name? Do you have the number?”

Lady: “I don’t remember his name. I have a 2:15 appointment. I’m going to be late!”

The architect is confused by what this lady’s deal is.

Note that this is not an elderly woman, and I just wasn’t getting the sense that this was a confused old person with a memory issue.

But still, I’m trying to be nice and helpful — even if just to get her out of my office.

Me: “I’m sorry, but without a name or number, I don’t think I can call the doctor’s office for you. Maybe I can Google this address and see what doctors’ offices show up, and that will jog your memory?”

This sets her off even more.

Lady: “I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. CALL THE BUILDING MANAGER!”

I explain to the woman that I don’t have contact info for building management and that there’s no staffed main office in this building.

We’re back to square one.

There’s nothing I can do except suggest that she walk down the hall and check the building directory at the stairs.

Determined to ignore all reason, she continues to escalate the situation.

Her husband is trying to drag her in that direction, but she’s not having it.

Lady: “You are the worst receptionist! Businesses don’t know how to get good people these days. I’m going to tell the doctor about you.”

All the signs should be evident that this was not, in fact, a doctor’s office.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m not the receptionist, and I don’t work for your doctor. I’m an architect — you’re in my office.”

(In case that isn’t obvious from the fact that the door opens directly into my small, messy office filled with drawings.)

“Our firm’s receptionist is on the third floor, as the sign on my door says…”

She’s really still not getting it.

Lady: “Well, why didn’t you say so! I will go wait down there.”

Me: “Wait for what? We’re an architecture firm. Our receptionist works for the architecture firm. We have nothing to do with the doctors’ offices or any other companies in the building.”

Lady: “You call her and tell her I’m on my way down there.”

Her husband begins to catch on and tries to help, but she’s determined to continue yelling at this architect.

At this point, her husband seems to be grasping that I, my office, and my firm have nothing to do with her doctor-whose-name-escapes-her.

He starts trying to explain it to her.

She brushes him off and yells at me again to call my receptionist.

So they do, hoping this will finally get the lady out of their hair.

I dial our receptionist, with the lady still standing there, and say that a couple is on their way down but that they are looking for a doctor’s office in the building.

I hope that they will READ THE BUILDING DIRECTORY IN THE STAIRS on their way down.

The lady has an amusing response.

Lady: “Well, I never!”

(I have never before actually heard that phrase used in real life. I thought it was reserved for caricatures of uptight, entitled old women on TV. Like Nellie Olson’s mother.)

She flounced off down the hall.

(That’s like stomping, but floatier — because she was suspended by hot air.)

Dragging her husband, she disappeared.

She was finally out, but not before causing some more trouble with the receptionist.

I thought that since they had to use the stairs or elevator to get to our reception area, they would see the directory on their way down, it would jog their memory as to which doctor they were looking for, and it would tell them where to find that doctor.

But no.

She had one final threat before leaving.

She did find her way down to pester our receptionist — and told her that I was a horrible employee.

And that she was reporting me to the state medical board.

Good luck with that, crazy lady!

Reddit is sure to get a kick out of this one.

This architect deserves to be punished!

Maybe this lady didn’t have the presence of mind to understand the difference between professions.

Apparently people like her really do call the medical board over anything.

This commenter has a quip of their own.

Her complaint may have been as misdirected as her sense of direction, but at least she finally was out of their office for good.

Too bad the state medical board doesn’t handle cases of chronic entitlement.

If you liked that post, check out this story about a customer who insists that their credit card works, and finds out that isn’t the case.