(A library patron comes to the desk with her laptop.)

Patron: “I’m having problems getting on the internet.”

Me: “Well, if you’re connecting wirelessly, you need to log on to our network with your email address–”

Patron: “I know that! I’m not stupid. I put in my email and password and it won’t connect me!”

Me: “Okay, why don’t you try and log in here, and I’ll see if I can help.”

Patron: *logs on* “See! I enter everything and then it says Not Connecting You To The Internet. It’s been doing this for the past half hour…I keep closing it and trying again!”

Me: “Uh, that says Now Connecting You To The Internet…”

Patron: “No it doesn’t! It says Not Connecting You To The Internet!”

Me: “What’s that word?”

Patron: “Now!”

Me: “And the others?”

Patron: “Connecting You To The… erm. I have to go now.”

Deli Customer: “I’d like the Italian, please.”

Me: “Would you like any condiments on that? Spicy relish, oil?”

Customer: “Yes, I’d like both, please.”

(I finish making the hoagie and ring up the price which is now $3.20 with the extra condiments.)

Customer: “Last time I was here, my hoagie was $2.75.”

Me: “Actually, that’s the price of the regular Italian hoagie. Is that what you wanted instead of the Super Italian?”

Customer: “No, I wanted the Super.”

Me: “Well, the Super is $3.00, and with the spicy relish and oil your total comes to $3.20.”

Customer: *angrily* “Last time it was $2.75!”

(She walks off to the counter to pay, and complains to the assistant manager.)

Assistant Manager: “She says she’s coming in tomorrow to complain about you to Mike (the owner).”

Me: “Oh, great…”

(The next day…)

Mike: “You made sure she wanted the Super Italian?”

Me: “Yes.”

Mike: “And you made sure you checked that you added up the price right?”

Me: “Yes… so what do you think?”

Mike: “Psht, f**k her!”

(While interviewing a man I had just stopped for drunk driving one night…)

Me: “How much did you have to drink?”

Him: “A bottle of wine and a scotch in four hours. I thought I was okay to drive.”

Me: “Are you taking any medication?”

Him: “Well, I just started taking those fish oil capsules.”

Me: “The Omega 3 ones?”

Him: “Yes, those ones.”

Me: “Those are supposed to make you smarter.”

Him: “Yes, they are.”

Me: “Well, I’m sure you can get your money back for them, then.”

Me: “Hi, how can I help you sir?”

Customer: “Do you guys sell pallets?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t.”

Customer: “… but there’s a whole bunch behind your store just sitting there.”

Me: “Yes, but we reuse those. We don’t sell them.”

Customer: “Well, is it illegal if I steal one of them?”

Me: “Repeat what you just said to yourself.”

Customer: *thinks for a second* “Oh.”

Customer: “Let me see that knife in the case.”

Me: “Here ya go.”

Customer: “I don’t think this knife is sharp enough.”

Me: “Really? ”

(The customer pulls the blade across his palm, slicing his hand open and spilling blood all over the floor.)

Customer: “I guess it is.”

Me: “Would you like some paper towels?”

(I’m a male to female transsexual working in a call center. My name is an androgynous name, so I still use the male name when greeting customers for legal reasons.)

Me: “Thank you for calling tech support, K***y speaking. How can I help you today?”

Sexist Caller: “You can’t help me. Get me someone who can.”

Me: “I’m sure I can assist you sir, what is the problem today?”

Sexist Caller: “I ain’t talking to you!”

Me: “What’s the problem?”

Sexist Caller: “I ain’t talking to no girl.”

(This caused me to both be glad that my voice passes for female on the phone, but really pissed me off cause of how horrible it was…but I would have my revenge…)

Me: “I’m terribly sorry to hear that sir, are you sure?”

Sexist Caller: “Get me a man, God d**n it!*

Me: “Okay sir, let me see what I can do. Please hold.”

(I proceed to put him on hold. I then spend the next few minutes eating a snack, reading some web comics, etc. I then clear my throat, and hit the button to take him off hold.)

Me: *with my old male voice this time* “Thank you for calling technical support, this is K***y speaking, how can I help you?”

Sexist Caller: “Oh thank god, I though I was gonna be stuck with that b**ch.”

Me: “Understandable sir, she’s not that good a technician.”

Sexist Caller: “You guys got the same name, you related or something?”

Me: “No way, thank God… ”

(I proceeded to reinstall his operating system from where he had totally screwed it up. I got written up for this, all while the manager was laughing and apologizing that he had to do it.)

Related:
The Joy Of Sex(ism), Part 2
The Joy Of Sex(ism)

Me: “Hi! I’m calling today looking for sponsorships for less fortunate children to attend the annual circus.”

Her: “Oh, that sounds wonderful.”

Me: “Would you like to sponsor a child this year?”

Her: “Will there be clowns?”

Me: “Yes, I believe there will be a few clowns.”

Her: “What kind?”

Me: “I’m… sorry?”

Her: “Are they the good ones?”

Me: “They are professionals, so I believe they will be quite good.”

Her: “Do children like them?”

Me: “Yes…”

Her: *in a hushed voice* “I carry a picture of that scary clown in my pocket. I don’t like scary clowns.”

Me: “Scary clown?”

Her: “… from the movie. I bought it so I could have a picture of the scary clown. I have nightmares about it.”

Me: “Ummm… that’s horrible. I’m sorry for bringing up such an awful memory. I will just let you go then.”

Her: “No, I want to help. Kids like that kind of thing. What do I have to do?”

Me: “Well, we will send you a sponsorship packet in the mail. It will have an invoice. You just have to send in payment.”

Her: “Will there be clowns?”

Me: “At the circus?”

Her: “No, I mean will you make sure that they don’t send any clowns in that paper?”

Me: “Yes, I will make sure that you do not get sent any clowns…”

(Ironically, I found out after hanging up that the sponsorship packet has a large picture of a clown on the envelope.)

Related:
Send In The Clowns

(The couple walked up to my line and the guy put his stuff on the belt first. Then, the girl put up a divider and her stuff.)

Guy: “Sweetie, let me pay for your stuff.”

Girl: “FINE!” *storms off*

Me: *thinking to self* “What the #@&% is going on?”

(I look at what she is purchasing and realize that the only thing she’s buying is a home pregnancy test.)