Me: “Hello! Welcome to [restaurant].”

(I begin pouring water, as is customary at any restaurant.)

Woman: “We didn’t ASK for water.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry ma’am. Should I bring you something else?”

Woman: *sighs* “No! No! No! Fine! Well take the d*** water.”

(I proceed to bring her the food, and she complains incessantly about everything she can think of until finally her entree comes out.)

Woman: “This isn’t what I ordered.”

Me: “Ma’am, this is what you ordered. I can show you the bill… it’s clearly written that this is what you ordered.”

Woman: “No it’s not! I DID NOT ORDER THIS!”

Me: “You did now…”

Woman, to husband: “Come on, let’s leave!”

Husband: “Why? Because you’re being a b****?”

Me: “Thank you for holding. I hear you need some help getting your car opened?”

Caller: “Yeah, my battery went dead and so I can’t get my doors open!”

Me: “Did you lock your keys in your car?”

Caller: “No, it’s just that I have electronic locks, and the battery is dead so I can’t get the doors open!”

Me: “Um, did you try to open the door manually?”

Caller: “How do I do that? ”

Me: “You stick your key into the door lock on the outside of the door. Turn it and it should unlock.”

Caller: “OH! YOU CAN DO THAT?!”

(I used to work at a sporting goods store, when a young guy of about 12-14 years of age came in.)

Customer: “Hi, can you tell me where I can find a jock, like for playing baseball?”

Me: “Oh, you mean a protective cup? Sure, they’re right over here.”

Customer: “Thanks. Oh, are there sizes?”

Me: “Yeah, they’re–”

Customer: *whispers* “I think I’m a small.”

Me: “They’re according to waistband.”

Customer: “Oh…”

Me: “I’ll be over there if you need anything else.”

(I’m delivering some pizzas and “quepapas.” They come with ranch dressing for dipping but my co-worker forgot to put the ranch in the box.)

Customer: “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna have a look at the quepapas, because last time I got them they were cold.”

Me: “Sure thing, not a problem.”

Customer: *opens box* “Where the heck is the ranch dressing?!”

Me: “I’m sorry sir, I guess we forgot to put it in the box. I could go back and get it for you if you would like.”

Customer: “Well yeah! How am I supposed to eat them without ranch dressing?!”

Me: “I would try sticking it in your mouth, followed by chewing and then swallowing…”

Customer: “Good one, jacka**!” *slams door*

Related:
Today, All My Questions Shall Be Stupid
Ask A Stupid Question …
Ask A Stupid Question, Part 2

(I’m recording a group of 15 year-old rappers.)

Me: “Do you like the way that sounds?”

Rapper: “Yo, can you make me sound like, um… like a maaaaan?”

Me: “Um… I’m not really sure I know what you mean.”

Rapper: “Like, I wanna sound like a big man, ya know?”

Me: “Hrm. Okay, let’s try this…” *I lower the pitch of his vocals a bit* …”like that?”

Rapper: “Yeah! Perfect, now I sound all strong!”

(I’m a liquor store owner. A teenager grabs a couple of beer bottles and proceeds to the counter to purchase the beer.)

Me: “May I see your ID?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “I don’t sell alcohol to people without IDs.”

Customer: “But I’m 18! I’m allowed to buy beer!”

Me: “Sorry, but its the law. No ID, no beer.”

Customer: “F*** you! F*** this government! Can’t a man just buy and enjoy their beer anymore?”

Me: “Look, all you have to do is flash your ID and you can buy all the beer you want. Now, can I see your d*** ID?”

Customer: “No, you listen to me! I didn’t drive all the way here to be treated like this. Back then, trust was enough to keep things rolling, but now everyone thinks everyone is a liar! This country is a F***ING dump! Do I look 12 to you? I’m telling you, I’m 18 and I’m allowed to buy beer, and…” *rants on and on*

Me: “Get out of my store.”

Customer: “Excuse me?!”

Me: “Oh I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Get the F*** out of my store!”

Customer: “I’m never coming here again!”

Me: “Now you’re getting the idea!”

(Our store is in a mall, but instead of having the gates like most stores, we have big glass doors. Th mall closes at 9 pm; at 9:30 pm, a customer comes up to the door.)

Customer: *pulls at the door, then knocks*

Employee: *goes over to the door and unlocks it*

Customer: “Are ya’ll closed?”

Employee: “Yes, and so is every other store in this mall.”

Customer: “Why? Ya’ll should stay open at night. Ain’t that when your customers come out?”

Me: “Hello, I see you opened a PayPal dispute for this item. It looks like your item was delivered, as shown by the delivery confirmation number. ”

Customer: “I would like a refund. This item didn’t arrive in a timely manner.”

Me: “All custom orders, like your ring, are shipped to be received within 14 business days from the date of purchase. It looks like your item arrived a day or so outside of that timeline. I’m sorry it was delayed in transit, but I’m happy that it wasn’t lost in the
mail and did arrive safely! If you have any further questions, I’d be happy to help.”

Customer: “This didn’t arrive in a timely matter. I’d like a refund.”

Me: “If you’d like to return the ring, you can do so within 7 days from the date you received your purchase. If you wish to do so, please return the ring to the address on the package, and please include the receipt.”

Customer: “I’d like a refund for this item, because it didn’t arrive in a timely manner. I like the ring, I just want a refund.”

Me: “I’d be happy to accept a return on this item. Please send it, as I mentioned above, to the address on the package within the next 7 days.”

Customer: “I like the ring, I just want a refund.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t issue a refund unless you send back the ring.”

Customer: “But it didn’t arrive in a timely manner.”

Me: “I’m very sorry you’re unhappy with the length of time the USPS took to deliver your package. I’m more than happy to issue a refund for your purchase price if you send the ring back to me.”

Customer: “I want to keep the ring, and I want a refund. It didn’t arrive in a timely manner.”

Me: *wants to die*

Customer: “Excuse me.”

Coworker: “Yes, may I help you?”

Customer: ”I just wanted to say how disappointed I am with your town!”

Coworker: “Okay, why is that?”

Customer: “I haven’t seen an Indian! This is suppose to be Cherokee Nation, and I haven’t seen one Indian! We came all the way down here from Illinois and wanted to see Indians!”

Coworker: “Come again?”

Customer: “All we’ve seen are normal people! We want to see Indians!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, they dress and look just like the rest of us. If you want to see reenactments, you need to go to Tsa-La-Gi outside town.”

Customer: “They don’t dress like that all the time?”

Coworker: “No, ma’am.”

Customer: “What about teepees?”

Coworker: “That’s plains Indians, ma’am, and no. They don’t live in teepees.”

Customer: “Oh…” *mutters while walking away* “… came to see Indians and all we get are regular people…”

Me: “Thank you for calling, this is ***. How may I help you today?”

Customer: *cheerful* “I need you to check my account.”

Me: “Certainly, I’d be happy to do that for you. May I have your identification number so I can look you up in our system please?”

Customer: “My what? Why would you want that? Don’t you know who I am?”

Me: “Unfortunately not, ma’am. We have no real way of knowing who is on the other end of the line unless you give us either that number or your social security number.”

Customer: *suddenly demonic* “HOW DARE YOU! YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE TERRORISTS, AREN’T YOU?!”

Me: “Um… excuse me?”

Customer: “YOU want my social so you can steal my identity, don’t you? That’s why you called me, to steal my credit score, you little punk!”

Me: “Ma’am, you called me. This is your insurance company. Just read me the number on the front of your card so I can look up your account information.”

Customer: *suddenly cheerful again* “Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you just say so? My number is ***.”

Me: “Ma’am, it seems your account is handled by a different department than mine. Would you like me to give you their direct number before I transfer you?”

Customer: *back to demonic* “YOU TRICKED ME! You tricked me out of my information! I’m calling the FBI on you, you little c**t!”

Me: *transfers call*

(I have never been so happy to transfer a caller. I logged the call, and later that day received an internal office email from some rep in another part of the state. All it said was “WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????”)

Related:
Dr. Jekyll And Hearing-Impaired Hyde