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    Category: Crazy Requests

    Some customers can be demanding, but within reason. These customers however make some requests that go beyond demanding, beyond reasonable, beyond possible! These requests, like the customers, are crazy!

    A Taxing Conversation, Part 2

    | San Antonio, TX, USA | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids, Money, Top

    Wife: “Can we try filing separately?”

    Me: “You can, but it’s not usually the best idea. You’ll disqualify yourselves from some of the biggest credits. I’ll run it through both scenarios, and see what happens. Who should have the kids on their file?”

    Husband: “Put them on hers.”

    (I run the return both ways. It takes about fifteen or twenty minutes, since they each have multiple jobs.)

    Me: “Okay, taken jointly, you’re getting $[amount]. Separately you, sir, need to pay $[amount] and you, ma’am get $[amount] back.”

    Wife: “Hmm. Put the kids on his return.”

    Me: “Okay.”

    (10 minutes later…)

    Me: “Now, he has to pay less, and you get back less. Jointly is still the better option.”

    Wife: “How about if he has one kid, and I have two kids?”

    Me: “Okay.”

    (Five minutes pass.)

    Me: “Jointly is still better.”

    Wife: “Okay, reverse it please. Him with two kids, and me with one.”

    Me: “Okay.”

    (Five minutes pass.)

    Me: “Jointly is still better. But this other person you’ve talked about…”

    Husband: “Our niece?”

    Me: “Right, let me check some info out with you; she might qualify as another dependent.”

    (10 minutes of interviews, and calling for info later…)

    Me: “Yep. She qualifies as another dependent, and now you’re joint refund would look like—”

    (The program glitches in a funny way. I have never seen this before.)

    Me: “Hmm, let me call over the manager real quick.”

    Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

    Me: “The file glitched. I’ve been running different scenarios for them, and the husband’s file is giving me weird data and won’t let me delete it.”

    Manager: “Can you restart a file with the wife as lead tax payer?”

    Me: “I can do that, but they haven’t decided if they’re going to file joint or separate. I was just trying to get the results of the latest scenario, when it glitched.”

    Manager: “Re-enter for the wife, and I’ll try to fix this file in case they want to file that way.”

    Me: “All right.”

    (Five minutes later…)

    Me: “Okay, your joint refund is now even higher.”

    Wife: “Can you try it separately, with me having three dependents, and my husband’s one?”

    Husband: *groans*

    (The next day…)

    Coworker: “Why is there a biohazard sticker on this return file?”

    A Taxing Conversation

    The Opposite Of Disappearing Ink

    | USA | Crazy Requests, Health & Body

    Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but it looks like this prescription is expired.”

    Customer: “What do you mean?”

    Me: “The law says we can’t take prescriptions this old.”

    Customer: “But you said it’s expired. Where does it say that?”

    Me: “It doesn’t, but see the date? That’s several months old. We couldn’t fill it now if we tried.”

    Customer: “You’re telling me if I’d brought this in exactly as it is just a few months ago, you’d have been able to take it?”

    Me: “Theoretically, yes.”

    Customer: “So why won’t you take it now? Nothing’s changed!”

    Me: “Except today’s date, sir. The prescription expired a few weeks after it was written. You can even see the disclaimer written at the bottom.”

    Customer: “So why doesn’t it notify me when it expires? It ought to say ‘expired’ on it!”

    Me: “Um… the paper isn’t going to magically print the word ‘expired’ if you wait too long to bring it in.”

    Customer: “Well, it should!”

    Hairy Situations Test Your Mettle

    | Rotterdam, The Netherlands | Crazy Requests, Health & Body

    (I have very long hair, which I wear in a tight bun per regulation, and I am quite obviously female. A customer walks up to me, but my back is turned.)

    Customer: “Sir?”

    (I continue my work, thinking she’s talking to a coworker nearby.)

    Customer: “Sir?”

    (I still don’t pay attention, so the customer taps my shoulder.)

    Customer: “Sir?”

    (I turn around.)

    Me: “How can I help you?”

    (The customer is clearly surprised.)

    Customer: “Sorry! Can you tell me where [item] is?”

    (I point the customer in the right direction. Later on, I’m cleaning one of the registers. The same customer walks up to me.)

    Customer: “Sorry about before. I really thought you were a guy.”

    Me: “That’s okay.”

    Customer: “You should really doing something about that hair. It makes you look too masculine.”

    Me: “What do you mean?”

    Customer: “You look like one of those metal heads.”

    Me: “Since when do metal heads wear their hair in buns?”

    Customer: “Never, but you still look like one!”

    Saved From Traffic, Not Trafficking

    | OR, USA | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids, Top

    (I work in the parking lot, helping customers load their vehicles and push carts back to where they belong. I am the only one out on the lot at the moment. A boy runs out into the lot next to me, into the middle of the road.)

    Boy: “Die bug!”

    (I see something moving out of the corner of my eye. When I look, there’s a car driving very fast through the lot. It is heading straight for the boy.)

    Me: “Oh, crap!”

    (I run into the road, pick up the child, and dive out of the way. I use my body as a cushion for him. My back hits a rack of plants, knocking them over, and sending pain through my back. The boy’s mother comes rushing over.)

    Boy’s Mother: “Oh, my God! WHAT THE H*** ARE YOU DOING WITH MY CHILD!?”

    Me: “First of all, I’m okay, and so is he. Second of all, he just about got ran over.”

    (I painfully stand up, and let the child go to his mother, who clings to her.)

    Boy’s Mother: “I want to see your manager now!”

    Me: “Certainly, ma’am.”

    (I go and find my manager, and explain to her what happened. The manager understands and goes to the service desk where the boy and his mother now wait. I follow behind and listen in.)

    Manager: “So, I hear you have a problem with one of my employees?”

    Boy’s Mother: “You’re d*** right I do! He tried to steal my baby!”

    Manager: “I assure you that’s not what happened. From what my employee has told me, he saw the child run into the street, chasing a bug. He noticed a car driving at unsafe speeds through the parking lot at the child.”

    Boy’s Mother: “That’s what he wants you to think!! I saw no car!”

    Manager: “What happened when you noticed my employee with your child?”

    Boy’s Mother: “He knocked over the plant racks out front with his back!”

    Manager: “And he did this while holding your child?”

    Boy’s Mother: “YES! You get it!”

    Manager: “Not quite. Follow me with this please. Why would my employee do that when he has the most chance of getting caught? It would draw a lot of attention to himself.”

    Boy’s Mother: “He… he was… I don’t know.”

    Manager: “The only reason I could think of him doing that is if he had to get out of the way of something fast. Or, if your child was in danger of being hit by a car going 40 miles per hour through the parking lot.”

    Boy’s Mother: “Well maybe you should control the cars speeding through your lot more! Hmph!”

    (She takes her son and walks out in a huff. Later on, at the end of my shift, the mother and her son approach me on the way out.)

    Boy’s Mother: “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

    Me: “Ma’am, I promise you; I wasn’t trying to kidnap your child!”

    Boy’s Mother: “I know that. But my son has something to say to you.”

    Boy: “Thank you for saving my life.”

    (He hands me a thank you card.)

    Me: “No problem, little man. Promise me something?”

    Boy: “Okay?”

    Me: “Don’t go playing in the street. When you go somewhere, stay next to your mom. That’s the safest place you can be. Can you do that?”

    Boy: “I promise!”

    Boy’s Mother: “Thank you again. I can’t thank you enough. I also came back to talk to your manager. Are you on lunch?”

    Me: “I’m off work now, actually.”

    Boy’s Mother: “Good, then I can make it a surprise!”

    (The mother walks into the store. I wonder what she means, but I figure I’ll find out the next day, and go home. The next day, I open up the store, and find out from my manager that someone gave me a glowing review of my work ethics!)

    Intelligence Is At An All Time Depression

    | Kansas City, MO, USA | Crazy Requests, History

    (We have a lot of customers who come in looking for something for someone else as a gift; however they often have no clue what they are looking for. Just ‘that thing their friend collects’.)

    Customer: “What is the name of that red glass?”

    Me: “I’m sorry, but can you be any more descriptive?”

    Customer: “You know, that red glassware that people collect.”

    Me: “Um, ruby flash?”

    Customer: “No, no, no. It’s old, and collectible!”

    Me: “Is the glass itself dyed red, or is it painted red? Or is it a different base color with red designs?”

    Customer: “It’s red. Or pink.”

    Me: “Cape Code? Currier and Ives? Vaseline? Murano? I…I really need more information before I can help you.”

    Customer: “It’s the name of all the glass! I don’t collect it! My friend does! I want to get her some!”

    Me: *trying one more time* “Depression?”

    Customer: “DEPRESSION! THANK YOU!”

    (The customer walks away without even asking me where it is in the store.)

    Coworker: “Um… depression glass means any cheap translucent glass that was made during the Great Depression. It comes in almost any color you can think of, not just red and pink.”

    Me: “You want to go explain that to her?”

    Coworker: “Nope.”

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