This just happened about 5 minutes ago while I was on the phone with SAS.
EXT. PACIFIC HEIGHTS -- NOON
The doorbell rings. I open the door to find a 60-something man dressed in a light blue suit with a tweed cap.
MAN: "I'm here to have lunch with Mr. Wilkerson."
ME: "I'm sorry. He doesn't live here, this is the Owens-Ganatas residence."
MAN: "He lives at 2333."
ME: "This is 2333. But unfortunately, he doesn't live here. And neither do I. I'm just a house guest. Maybe try next door?"
MAN: "I need your yellow pages."
ME: "If you want to come in we can try to look him up on my computer. I don't think my friends that live here have the yellow pages. And if they do, I have no idea where they'd be."
MAN: "I'm going to be late for lunch. (snarky) Are you gonna help me or not! ."
ME: "I don't have the yellow pages, sir. I'm sorry."
MAN: "No, you're not sorry! You won't even help me!"
ME: "I just offered for you to use my personal computer. What else can I do?"
MAN: "Screw you." (He walks off in a huff, and the office is hysterical on the other end of the phone.)