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    Going On A Duck Tale

    | USA | Bizarre, Crazy Requests, Pets & Animals

    (My office phone rings and I answer it. The voice on the other line sounds like it belongs to an elderly gentleman who may be hard of hearing.)

    Me: “Hello, [Prison]. This is [My Name].”

    Caller: “Hi. Yes, this is [Caller] from [Small, Rural Town] and I need a duck license.”

    Me: “I am sorry, sir?”

    Caller: “I need a duck license. I know I can get one on the Internet, but the Internet is not good out here in [Small, Rural Town].”

    Me: “Sir, I think you got the wrong number.”

    Caller: “We have so many ducks out here. I need a duck license. I know I can get them on the Internet, but I can’t use the Internet so I need you to help me with a duck license.”

    Me: “Sir, you have called the wrong number. This is the penitentiary.”

    Caller: “You see there are so many ducks around here. So I need your help with a license…”

    Me: “Sir, you have the wrong number.”

    Caller: “… and I need it because there are so many ducks and I need a license to shoot them…”

    Me: “Sir? I think you wanted fish and game.”

    Caller: “… but I can’t get on the Internet, so I need you to give me a license.”

    Me: “Sir, you have the wrong number. This is the penitentiary.”

    Caller: “The what? Who did I call?”

    Me: “You called the prison, sir.”

    Caller: “Oh, you can’t help me at all then…”

    Me: “Let me get you the number to fish and game.”

    (He was very nice and appreciative, and his wrong number made my day!)

    Driving On Booze Control

    | Princeton, NJ, USA | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Food & Drink, Underaged

    (I work at a liquor store, and we have one major rule. If you appear to be under 30 you MUST have your ID on you unless you are accompanied by a parent or guardian. If you do not have your ID on you no one in your group is allowed to purchase alcohol. Two guys come into our store together and start making a ruckus. The one guy looks about 23 or so, but the other can’t be 17. They’re yelling up and down the aisles to each other looking for something to purchase. I greet the two of them and start scanning their items. I ask for their IDs.)

    Customer #1: “Here you go.”

    Me: “Thanks.” *pointing at Customer #2* “I just need to see your ID as well.”

    Customer #2: “I don’t got mine.”

    Me: “Okay. Is it in the car or something? I need to see both of your IDs because you came in together.”

    Customer #2: “Why? I didn’t come in here with him. We met up outside and walked in together.”

    Me: “Let me get my manager. He’ll be able to sort this out for you guys.”

    (My manager comes over and I explain to him that the one has his ID, but the other guy doesn’t. My manager reiterates the store policy. As this is happening, Customer #2 hands a $5 bill ‘stealthily’ to his buddy.)

    Customer #1: “We’re friends from work! We ran into each other inside. Why am I getting denied service because I happened to run into him and happened to get in line with him at the same time.”

    Manager: “Well, if that’s the case why did he just hand you money and try to walk out towards the door?

    Customer #1: “I had asked to borrow some money! This is b******t!”

    Manager: “I’m sorry you feel that way, but that’s the law. For all we know, you’re about to purchase alcohol for a minor, and we could get fined for that.”

    Customer #2: “That’s racist! You’re refusing to sell to us because we’re [race]!”

    Manager: “No, sir, that’s not why. I just told you why I’m refusing service.”

    Customer #2: “Well, if that’s the case why didn’t you card that baby in the other dude’s line over there?”

    Manager: “Sir. Think about what you just said. Do you really think that baby is really going to drink anything in that cart?”

    Customer #2: “Whatever. I’m calling the cops. You’re going to be arrested for being racist. You racist son of a b****!”

    Manager: “Okay. I can wait. I’ll just tell them that your pal just tried to purchase alcohol for a minor.”

    (With that they walked out of the store, screaming and ranting, and wound up kicking over one of the basket returns by the exit, never to be seen since.)

    Very Closed Minded

    | Bastrop, TX, USA | Extra Stupid, Holidays

    (The store that this takes place in is open 24/7 and is only closed for Christmas Day. One night, around 9:30, a customer calls the store and I answer it.)

    Me: ”[Location] [Store] customer service. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

    Customer: “Yes, I was calling to ask when you close tonight.”

    Me: “Customer service or the store?”

    Customer: “The store.”

    Me: “The store stays open 24 hours, ma’am.”

    Customer: “No, no, no. When does the store close?”

    Me: “It doesn’t. It stays open 24/7.”

    Customer: *sounding annoyed* “NO! I’m not asking when it is open I want to know when it CLOSES!”

    Me: “Ma’am, the next time we’ll close, excluding things beyond our control, will be 8 pm on Christmas Eve.”

    (After hearing that, the customer starts to yell into the phone.)

    Customer: “I DON’T GIVE A F*** WHEN IT CLOSES CHRISTMAS EVE! I WANT TO KNOW WHEN IT CLOSES TONIGHT!”

    Me: *wincing and pulling the headset from my ear as a pair of customers approach the counter* “Ma’am, please don’t yell. I am attempting to tell you that the store does not close.”

    Customer: “NO, YOU ARE JUST F****** TELLING WHEN IT F******* CLOSES ON GODD*** CHRISTMAS EVE, WHEN IT’S JUST APPROACHING EASTER!”

    Me: “Listen, ma’am, the store DOES NOT CLOSE UNTIL THEN!”

    Customer: “BULL-F******-S***! YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME YOU CLOSE BECAUSE YOU WANT ME TO WASTE MY FUCKING GAS GETTING OVER THERE ONLY TO HAVE YOU SHOO ME AWAY!”

    Me: “Listen, if you cannot understand that WE DO NOT, I REPEAT, NOT CLOSE, then I don’t know what to tell you.” *click*

    (I turn to the two customers who’ve been waiting at the counter.)

    Me: “Sorry about that. How can I help you?”

    In-Store Customer: *chuckling* “So, when do you close?”

    No ID, No Idea, Part 15

    | Salem, NH, USA | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal

    (The store I work at sells chocolate liqueurs. Because they are alcoholic, I cannot sell them to anyone who doesn’t have an ID on them. A couple of young women come up, and seeing the liqueurs by the register, put a couple in with their purchase.)

    Me: “I’ll need to see some ID for those.”

    Customer: “Oh, I left my ID in the car.”

    Me: “I can hold onto your stuff while you go get it.”

    Customer: “I don’t want to go all the way to my car and back!”

    Me: *moving the liqueurs aside* “All right. I’ll just put those back, then.”

    Customer: “But, I want them.”

    Me: “I’ll need to see your ID.”

    Customer: “It’s in the car!”

    Me: “I can hold your stuff for you while you go get it.”

    Customer: “Look, I LOOK old enough to drink, don’t I?”

    Me: “Yes…”

    (Smiling, the woman nudges the liqueurs back into her pile of stuff. I promptly nudge them back out.)

    Me: “My underage sister LOOKS old enough, as well.”

    Customer: “But I want those!”

    Me: “I’ll need to see your ID.”

    Customer: “It’s in the CAR!”

    Related:
    No ID, No Idea, Part 14
    No ID, No Idea, Part 13
    No ID, No Idea, Part 12

    The High Point Of My Night

    , | Canada | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Food & Drink

    (I work as a cashier and am finally at the end of a long, frustrating split-shift. About 10 minutes to closing a group of guys in their early 20s come in and head straight for the confection aisle. They seem to be having a hard time deciding, and become panicked when my supervisor makes the closing announcement. They shove their candy, chips, and pop into the arms of one guy, and push him toward the cash. They leave the store, leaving their friend to pay. He places the items very slowly on the counter, blinking with confusion a number of times, swaying a little on his feet. I ring his items through.)

    Me: “That’s $14.59. How will you be paying?”

    Customer: “Uh… debit?”

    (He slowly pulls out his wallet and fumbles for his card. He finally places it in the debit machine, and then stares at it, unmoving. The machine times-out, so I reset it. He manages, with some difficulty to make it through the rest of the transaction. When I place his bag in front of him, he looks confused.)

    Customer: “Is this mine?”

    Me: “Yes, it is.”

    Customer: “These are the things I bought?”

    Me: “Uh… yes. Are you all right?”

    Customer: “Huh? Oh, yeah, don’t mind me, I’m just really fried.”

    (He pulls a 2 dollar coin out of his pocket and puts it on the counter.)

    Customer: “Don’t tell; my parents know the owner.”

    (He left, marveling at the automatic doors as he did. He has been back to the store a number of times, in the same state, and makes my day whenever he shows up.)

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