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    Cold Hard Cash

    | Ontario, Canada |

    Customer: “Do you guys have an ATM machine here?”

    Me: “Er, no, sorry.”

    Customer: “I see one right there!”

    Me: “Um … that’s a telephone booth, sir.”

    Customer: *squinting and walking toward it* “No, it’s an ATM.”

    Me: “No. No it’s not. It’s definitely a telephone booth.”

    Customer: “Oh. Well…there’s one beside it!”

    Me: “That is a freezer, sir. We store ice in it to sell to campers for their coolers.”

    Customer: “Why does it say ‘ice’ on it? What kind of ATM says ‘ice’?” *opening the ice box* “It’s an ice box.”

    Me: ” …”

    Up and Running

    , | Chicago, IL, USA |

    (I work at an incoming call center for a well known adult website. Most of our calls deal with technical problems or issues with logging-in to the sites. Most of them, anyway….)

    Caller: “Good afternoon, sir. I’m having some issues here.”

    Me: “That’s what we’re here for! What can I do to help?”

    Caller: “Well, I’m sitting here looking at all these beautiful women and, well, I just can’t seem to get an erection.”

    Me: “Sir…that is NOT something that I can help you with!”

    The Orlando Hillbillies

    | Orlando, FL, USA |

    (I work as a security officer in an upscale hotel near the big theme parks in Orlando. We had gotten a call from one of the rooms complaining about a break-in and theft.)

    Me: “Sir, you called security about a break-in? When were you out?”

    Customer: “Yeah! We just got back from [theme park] and somebody broke in here and took all of our used towels and soaps and stuff! Looks like they went through everythin’!”

    Me: “Sir? They took your used towels?”

    Customer: “We had a buncha towels in the bathroom and a buncha shampoo and soaps are gone too! See?! These ain’t my towels, I know because we had used ours last night and draped `em over the shower curtain to dry! What kind of establishment are y’all runnin’ here?”

    (I look around the bathroom–it looked tidy and neat. Clean towels were hanging on the towel rack, new bottles of courtesy soaps and shampoos were put on the bathroom counter.)

    Me: “Sir, were these your towels from home? Was anything else taken?”

    Customer: “No! We gotta buncha towels with our room and now they’re gone! Ah know because they were wet! Somebody done been in here snoopin’ through our room!”

    Me: “Sir… I believe that was housekeeping. They come in, clean up the room, see if you need any fresh towels and give you new–”

    (The man begins shouting.)

    Customer: “DON’T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! SOMEBODY HAS BEEN IN MY ROOM!”

    Me: “Its called ‘Housekeeping.’ They come in and replace any toiletries you use during–”

    Customer: “Well I ain’t need no toilet treats! They coulda stole all my stuff!”

    Me: “… sir, it was our maids. They come in and clean for you. There is a complimentary safe in your closet. You can lock up anything you don’t want out when our staff–”

    Customer: “TELL THEM I DON’T WANT ANYONE IN MY ROOM AND GOIN’ THROUGH ALL MY STUFF! If they do it again, I’m calling the police and having all y’all arrested!”

    Me: “Alright, sir…”

    (The customer and his family stayed a whole week in the hotel. Evidently he used the same 4 towels the whole time and split a 1 oz bottle of shampoo for 4 people over 6 days.)

    A Bozo By Any Other Name

    | United Kingdom |

    Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

    (The client looks at name on desk; my name’s Hattie.)

    Client: “Your name is so stupid.”

    Me: “Sorry, sir. I can’t help that. It’s not so bad. ”

    Client: “Your parents must really hate you.”

    Me: “No, I’m sure they don’t. How can I help?”

    Client: “I want to check my registration. Name’s Horace Gumptin.”

    Me: *stifles giggle*

    Client: “Are you laughing at me? Your name rhymes with fattie!”

    One Annoyed Paranoid

    | Nebraska, USA |

    (I work at the photo department and am checking out a customer with a “Happy Birthday, Grand Son!” birthday card.)

    Customer: “Hello… I only have this one birthday card.”

    Me: “Okay, that’ll be $3.15. I just need your signature on the line, please.”

    (The customer begins to sign her receipt, then pauses. She looks closely at the slip, then looks up at me, angry.)

    Customer: “Now how does this know who I am?!”

    Me: “… excuse me?”

    Customer: “It has my name on it! Right here, below the line! I have never shopped here before. Where did you get my information?”

    Me: “Ma’am, the information comes from your credit card.”

    Customer: “Well!”

    (She signs the slip and gives it to me. I put the slip in the register drawer.)

    Customer: “And what are you doing with that? It has my information on it. You can’t just keep it!”

    Me: “Umm, we have to keep it. That’s how you pay for things…” *register prompts for a zip code* “… and may I get your zip code, please?”

    Customer: “Why do you need my address?!”

    Me: “Well, American Express needs it. It’s a security measure. And it doesn’t need your whole address, just the zip code.”

    Customer: “This is identity theft! Give me back my signature!”

    Me: “Um, I promise you, I am not. And I can’t open the drawer mid-transaction, but I can call a manager to cancel your transaction.”

    Customer: “You aren’t a cashier! How do I even know you work here?!”"

    Me: “Well, here’s my name tag. And my picture is on the wall.”

    Customer: “If you work in the photo department, that could be photoshopped! You do not work here! I want a manager!”

    Me: “Umm, okay…” *calls manager*

    Manager: “What can I help you with today?”

    Customer: “This thief is stealing my personal identity!”

    Manager: “Excuse me?”

    Customer: “I want my signature back! She is asking too many questions!”

    Manager: “Okay, I will take it from here. So what is your zip code?”

    (My manager takes care of the rest of the transaction. The receipt then prints out…)

    Manager: “Here you go! Tell your grandson to have a happy birthday!”

    Customer: “AND HOW DO YOU KNOW MY GRANDSON!? YOU PEOPLE STOP AT NOTHING! I AM REPORTING YOU! THIS IS ILLEGAL!” *continues yelling all the way out the door*

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