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  • August Theme Of The Month: Best. Customer. Ever!

    Category: Transportation

    Their Poetry Isn’t Priceless Yet

    | Tallahassee, FL, USA | Language & Words, Transportation

    (I’m a customer in a post office, mailing a submission for a national poetry contest (the name of which is stated on the envelope). The employee helping me has been entering information into the system.)

    Employee: “So. how much is this poetry worth if lost?”

    Me: “Only my heart and soul!”

    Employee: “I’m just gonna go with a hundred dollars…”

    Total Block-Head

    | Woodbury, MN, USA | Crazy Requests, Transportation

    (The store is getting a new parking lot so there are limited spaces.)

    Customer: *runs up to the customer service desk* “The parking lot is a mess!”

    Me: “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

    Customer: “There’s not enough parking spaces for everyone! I was forced to park in the back of the lot.”

    Me: “Yes. I parked seven blocks away from the store.”

    Customer: “Oh…” *slowly walks away*

    It’s A Grey(hound) Area

    , | Calgary, AB, Canada | Pets & Animals, Theme Of The Month, Transportation

    (I was working in the call centre for a well-known bus company named after a type of dog. An ad was running at the time for a companion fare (buy one, get one) and it featured images of the type of dog the company is named after. One afternoon I get a call in regards to the pricing and rules for the fare. After giving this info the caller has one last question:)

    Caller: “So, to use this companion fare, does my companion HAVE to be a dog?”

    They Have It Made

    | ON, Canada | Geography, Health & Body, Transportation

    (I work night shift at a very popular Canadian coffee chain. Four drunk customers walk into the store, barely able to stand. I spot a white limo outside and these customers are dressed like they’ve been out clubbing.)

    Me: “Hey, there. What can I get you ladies?”

    Drunk Customer: “Hey, um, I have a question?”

    Me: “Yes?”

    Drunk Customer: “Um, what city are we in?”

    Me: *stammering* “P-pardon me?”

    Drunk Customer: “Oh, my God. Are you deaf? What CITY are we in?”

    Me: “Erm… you’re in between [City #1] and [City #2].”

    Drunk Customer: *turns back to her friends* “OH, MY GOD, GUYS! WE MADE IT!”

    (It turned out that the ladies had been gambling in Niagara Falls, about three hours away. After asking for the address of the place and reassuring me that they lived in City #1 and they were headed home (they thought), they left without asking for anything and I was left to wonder exactly how intoxicated one had to be to be that lost and that un-phased by it.)

    Crime Can Be A Vicious Cycle

    | London, England, UK | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Extra Stupid, Transportation

    (A couple of weeks ago the bicycle that I had owned since I was eight years old was stolen, right outside my shop. I was at work at the time and the CCTV we have can’t pin the culprit as he was in a blind spot. The police have been as unsuccessful as well. As my only method of transport, I have to go by foot which takes 40 minutes. I’m behind the counter one day, when…)

    Customer: “Excuse me, can I park my bicycle in here? Some guy got his stolen the other week so I don’t want to take any chances.”

    Me: “Sure, just park it up by the counter and I’ll—”

    (Before I can finish, the customer brings the cycle — MY CYCLE — in and rests it against the counter.)

    Me: “—k-keep an eye on it for you.”

    (The second the customer turns around the corner, I’m on the phone to my manager to ring the police. When he comes out of the office he notices the cycle and is just as baffled as me.)

    Manager: “What’s going on here?”

    Me: “A gentlemen just came in with this. He’s gone into the produce aisle but I’m certain that he’s the thief.”

    Manager: “Right. You stay here. I’ll speak to him.”

    (Without another word, my now-furious manager had rounded the corner and gone to have a word with the gentlemen in question. Not a second later I could hear swearing at the top of the gentlemen’s lungs as he came running down the same aisle and reached for my bike. My instinct kicked in and I held on to the back wheel as much as I could as he shouted for me to ‘f*****g let go’. He gave up sooner than anticipated as my manager charged at him, so he sprinted for the door. However, the police were waiting outside for him, and in a flurry of swearwords the crook was brought to the ground and arrested there and then. How did I know it was my bicycle? The dingus had forgotten to remove my water bottle which was attached to the frame and had my name on it! I guess crime doesn’t pay!)

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