(At the golf course where I work, it’s been a very a hot day and an older man unfortunately has a stroke/heart attack in the middle of the range. The course is at a remote location, so a medical helicopter is called in and lands in the middle of the range. Another golfer comes over, obviously upset.)

Golfer: “It’s my tee! I want to take my shot but the helicopter is blocking it.”

Me: “Sir, there’s a medical emergency on the range so you’ll have to wait for a little while.”

Golfer: “But it’s my shot! I pay good money to play here and it’s my shot!”

Me: “Sir, someone may be dying over there. Please have some patience. It shouldn’t take long until they lift off.”

Golfer: “If they get hit, it’s their own fault.”

(The man then pulls a club out and before I can stop him, he swings and hits the helicopter.)

Me: “Sir! For God’s sake, stop!”

Golfer: “It’s my tee! They can just blame themselves for being in the way. I don’t have time for this!”

(I ended up reporting him to the caddie master and range supervisors. His license was revoked and was banned from playing there ever again. Thankfully, the helicopter was not damaged and the patient was saved.)

Related:
Pinheaded, Part 2

(I’m shopping in a video game store, and an older, overweight, bald man comes into the store alone and proceeds to ask the greatest question I have ever heard.)

Customer: “Do you have the singing game that lets YOU be the star?”

(The parking lot is full at a popular beach and the area is residential, so I have the job of turning cars away.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but the lot is full and you’re blocking traffic so you’ll have to move your car.”

Customer: “But we are from Toronto!”

Me: “Um…I’m glad you drove all this way, but the lot is full. Maybe you can get some lunch and check back in a half hour?”

Customer: “But we are from Toronto.”

Me: “I know, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do, I have to keep this road clear.”

Customer: “Have you ever been to Toronto?”

Me: “No. But please, sir, you have to move. Perhaps you can drop your family off and rejoin them later when we have spaces.”

Customer: *angrily* “We are going back to Toronto!”

(An elderly lady walks into a clothes store. She is wearing an exceedingly bright hat with a large, floppy flower on it. She obviously likes the hat very much because she looks at herself in every mirror she walks by.)

Employee: “You sure look spiffy today, ma’am!”

Elderly lady: “Young man, I look spiffy EVERY day!”

Customer: “I can’t believe I had to open the door on my way in! It opens for me on the way out. Customers shouldn’t have to open doors.”

Me: “But sir, if the ‘In’ door was automatic, it would smack you in the face.”

Customer: “I don’t care! I shouldn’t be expected to open my own doors.”

Me: “Well, you could always use the handicapped button. That will open the door for you.”

Customer: *stomps his foot* “No! No! No! No!”

(The customer leaves looking at me expectantly and pointing at the automatic door on his way out.)

(I was shopping in a comic book store with my brother when a female customer approached me.)

Girl: “You know what I’m going to do in college?”

Me: “Er, what?”

Girl: “I’m going to bark after every word when talking to the first person I see! Then they’ll go to my friends and say ‘Hey, where’s ****, the girl who barks?’, and nobody will know what they mean!”

Me: “Uh…okay. Good idea.”

Me: *on the phone* “Hello, welcome to [magazine company]. How can I help?”

Caller: “I want to cancel my husband’s subscription.”

Me: “Okay. Could I speak to your husband, as he is the account holder?”

Caller: “I’m sorry, he passed away last week. That’s why I’m calling. I won’t have to pay what he owes, will I?”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that madam. I’ll cancel that and you are correct; you won’t be charged.”

(I took the details. At the end, I said she could receive one more copy free.)

Caller: “I’m sorry, I’m not following. I’ve had a lot to deal with since my husband died. We only buried him yesterday.”

Me: *feeling dreadful for her* “Of course. I’ll go through it again.”

(I ran through it, stopping at intervals to check she understood. She said she did.)

Me: “Would you like the free copy? This month you get money off vouchers for books.”

(15 seconds of silence.)

Me: “Madam, are you there?”

Caller: “I still don’t understand, dear. I’m not good with this stuff. Let me get my husband; he usually deals with this.”

Me: “Madam, you told me your husband died.”

Caller: *flustered* “I didn’t.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you did. You told me your husband died, his funeral was yesterday, and you asked me to cancel his contract and not charge you.”

Caller: *now getting agitated* “I didn’t. You misunderstood.”

Me: “Madam, we record calls. I can arrange for you to speak to a manager once the called has been reviewed, if you wish.”

(Another 15 seconds of silence.)

Me: “Madam, are you still there?”

Caller: *click*

(A woman and her three year old daughter leave the changing room and approach my counter. She looks to be flustered and in a hurry.)

Me: “Hi there, can I help you?”

Customer: “Just this, please.” *hands me her items*

Me: “That’s £49.96, please.”

(The woman frantically searches her bag for her purse and almost turfs the contents out onto the floor.)

Customer: “I can’t find my purse.”

Me: “It’s okay, take your time. Perhaps you left it in the changing room?”

Customer: “No, I didn’t leave anything in there! Here it is.”

(She hands me her credit card, I complete the transaction and hand her her purchases.)

Me: “Here you go. Thank you for visiting today.”

Customer: *nervous smile* “Thank you.”

(The woman walks away hastily. Just before she gets to the shop door, her daughter speaks up.)

Customer’s daughter: “But mummy, we did leave something in the changing room!”

Customer: *starts walking quicker* “Shhh!”

Customer’s daughter: *triumphantly* “We left my poo in there!”

(The woman grabs the child by the hand and runs out of the shop. My colleague and I run over to the changing room to see for ourselves. Sure enough, in the corner of one of the changing rooms, there is a small pile of poo. We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.)

Me: “Hi there. Can I help you find a certain section?”

Customer: “I’m looking for a card.”

Me: “Okay. What type of card?”

Customer: “Well, there is this guy and he is my friend…but not really…and I want to get him a special card.”

Me: “Okay, I’m not sure I understand. Do you want a friendship card?”

Customer: “No. Oh my God, he would hate that! It’s just that…we’re friends, but not really. Like, we’re more than friends.”

Me: “So, your boy–”

Customer: “OH, GOD NO! He’s not my boyfriend. We just have a lot of sex, and I want to get him a card…for that.”

Me: “Ma’am…I don’t think we actually make ‘Sex Buddy Cards’.”

Customer: *long pause*

Me: “Maybe a ‘Thank You’ card?”

Customer: *runs from store*

Me: “Hi, is **** there?”

Customer: “This is him.”

Me: “Hi, ****. I’m calling about your order.”

Customer: “Oh, great! What do you need?”

Me: “Well, sir, you unfortunately forgot to sign both your money orders.”

Customer: “…So?”

Me: “We can’t cash them if they’re not signed. They’re like checks that way.”

Customer: “…So? When that happens, you should just sign it for us. You must write checks to yourselves for customers all the time.”

Me: “No, sir, that’s called fraud.”

Customer: “…So?”

Me: “…So, that’s illegal.”

Customer: “…So?”