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    That Request Will Never Fly

    | USA | Uncategorized

    (We hit a bit of turbulence. The ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ light goes on, and the captain comes on the intercom to tell us all to stay seated and buckled in. Shortly after this, a woman hits her call light. I come on over.)

    Me: *bracing myself on the seat across the row* “Yes, ma’am?”

    Passenger: “Could I have a glass of water, please?”

    Me: “Ma’am, the captain has asked us to all stay seated for our safety.”

    Passenger: “But I wouldn’t be getting up!”

    Me: “Ma’am, the captain has asked us ALL to stay seated for our safety.”

    Passenger: “Oh! You too?”

    Trucker In Need Of Break Fluid

    | Philadelphia, PA, USA | Top

    (I’m working in a diner at the crack of dawn. A surly trucker sits down at the counter.)

    Me: “Good morning, can I start you with something to drink?”

    Customer: “Coffee. Now.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, we’re all out of ‘coffee now’. All we have left is ‘coffee please’.”

    Feeling Fuel-ish, Part 2

    | Marysville, WA, USA | Uncategorized

    (A girl of about 20 pulls up to the pump. After several minutes of her nervously looking around and doing nothing, I approach her.)

    Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”

    Customer: “I don’t know how to do this.”

    Me: “You don’t know how to fuel up your car?”

    Customer: “No! There’s so many buttons! Where does this hose thingy go?”

    Me: “Well, first you have to pay.”

    (Several minutes ensue of walking her through the procedure, in which I learn she has been driving for 4 years.)

    Customer: “Thank you so much for your help, I don’t know how anyone can do this!”

    Me: *notices license plate* “Oh! You’re from Oregon! People pump gas for you there, don’t they?”

    Customer: “Yes! I can’t believe they don’t do it here! Are the people at this gas station poor?”

    Related:
    Feeling Fuel-ish

    Do Not Pass Go

    | Haarlem, The Netherlands | Uncategorized

    (My company provides web-design and hosting. A new customer, who’s just been sent his e-mail settings and password to his private account, calls.)

    Customer: “I followed the instructions on setting up my e-mail, but my mail client keeps giving an error.”

    Me: “Okay, what’s the error?”

    Customer: “It says ‘error logging into remote server’.”

    Me: “Right. You’re sure you entered the correct credentials from the mail we sent you?”

    (The customer affirms that, so I logon to the mail server to examine the logs.)

    Me: “Okay, I’m looking at the logs right now. Can you try to login again, so I can see what the exact error message is the server is giving?”

    (Over the next ten minutes or so I try a few other things.)

    Me: “I’m sorry sir, I’m running out of options. Just to be sure, could you literally copy and paste your password into the password field? Every so often people mistake a zero for an ‘O’ or such.”

    Customer: “That’s not necessary. I always use the same password for all my email-accounts. I think I know it pretty well.” *chuckles confidently*

    Me: “Sir, how would we know your preferred password? You’ll need to enter the one in the account mail we sent you.”

    Customer: “Ah, I had been wondering what that funny word was.”

    A Couple Of Weighty Requests

    | Payson, AZ, USA | Uncategorized

    (Because I was tied up with other tables, my manager kindly seated and provided drinks for an older couple in my section.)

    Me: “Hello, sorry for the wait. I see you already have menus and drinks, is there anything else I can get you?”

    Husband: “Well, [manager] suggested we try this beer and it’s fabulous! It has a funny name though, I can’t remember it.”

    (I notice the orange slice on the glass and identify the beer as a Hefeweizen.)

    Me: “That is a hefeweizen, sir. They are very tasty.”

    Husband: “No, that’s not it. It was something else.”

    Me: “Hefeweizens are commonly served with citrus, I’m sure that is a hefeweizen.”

    Husband: “No, it wasn’t that. It was something German. Hoffenschneider?”

    Wife: “No, it was something like hoffenweizer.”

    Husband: “That might be it!”

    Me: “It is German, it’s called a hefeweizen.”

    Husband: “No, you’re wrong. Go get your manager, she knows.”

    (Several minutes later I overhear my manager attempting to explain to the couple how to pronounce “Hefeweizen.” She eventually gives up and says, “Just say ‘Hef’.” I return to the couple shortly after my manager leaves.)

    Me: “Did [manager] clear up the confusion for you?”

    Husband: “Oh yes! It certainly is a strange name. We’d like two more heifers, please!”

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