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    Always Right, Even When At The Wrong Store

    , | Yorkshire, UK |

    (I work in a motor factor (in America, an auto parts/accessories shop) which is on the same estate as a car workshop. Outside there is a huge sign for the workshop stating the things that they do e.g. brakes, exhausts, MOT testing etc.)

    Customer: “Hi, I’d like to book my car in for a five point service.”

    (Now, we do various easy-peasy checks e.g. oil, water, and we fit batteries, bulbs, radios etc, so often customers are often confused as to exactly what we do and do not do.)

    Me: “You mean the five point check? Just pull your car into the bay outside and I’ll be out in a minute.”

    Customer: “No, NO, I meant the service you have advertised outside! New brakes, oil change!”

    Me: “I think you’re confusing us with the garage next door. We’re just a motor factor.”

    Customer: “But you’ve got a sign outside!”

    Me: “Let’s have a look then…”

    (We look and the sign is for the garage next door, not our motor factor. I point out that our building has a completely different name outside it.)

    Customer: “That’s false advertising! Why can’t you do it?! I demand that I get a free service for the inconvenience you have caused me!”

    Me: “Sorry mate, we’re just a motor factor. I’d happily service my own car, but I’m not a mechanic, I’m a history student. If you’d like the five-point service, try the building with the same name as on the sign.”

    Customer: “This is ridiculous! I want YOU–” *stabs me in the chest with his finger* “–to service my car right now!”

    Me: “Okay, if you just follow me, and talk to that gentleman there–” *points at garage owner* “–I can service your car straight away.”

    Customer: *walks off swearing*

    Hopefully, She’s Not Also Topless

    | Louisville, KY, USA |

    (Working in tech support, I talk to some pretty dumb people every day. This was a particular highlight of the week.)

    Me: “Go ahead and check the icons in the bottom right hand corner of your screen for me.”

    Customer: “I have no bottom right.”

    Me: “Ma’am, everything has a bottom right.”

    Tonight At 11: Mom Coats Baby In Semigloss

    | Maryland, USA |

    (Two women walk up with their little babies, still young enough to be carried around wrapped in blankets.)

    Lady 1: “How much is face painting for the kids?”

    Me: “Three dollars, ma’am.”

    Lady #1: “Could you charge us less ‘cuz our kids are small?”

    Me: *looking for her kids, thinking she can’t possibly be referring to the babies* “How small are they?”

    Lady #1: “They’re babies!”

    Me: *eyes popping out* “Excuse me?”

    Lady #2: “We’re HOLDIN’ ‘EM! They’re babies!”

    Me: “Um, ma’am, I don’t think I can paint on your infants.”

    Lady# 2: “Well why NOT?”

    Me: “Because this is heavy professional paint. It says right on the label, ‘Not for use for children under three years.’ It’ll irritate their skin.”

    Lady #1: “So you won’t paint our babies?”

    Me: “No, ma’am. I can’t do that. It’s not safe.”

    Lady #1: “There ain’t no sign that says you won’t!”

    Me: “I should think that kinda goes without saying…”

    Lady #1: “So this means we waited in that line for NOTHING?”

    Lady #2: “Y’all should put up a sign or something that says you won’t face paint on babies, ‘cuz I thought that was y’alls job.”

    Me: “I’m sorry ma’am. I’ve been doing this for years and nobody’s ever tried to have an infant painted before so I never thought I’d have to mention it. It’s dangerous.”

    Lady #1: “Well that just ain’t fair! Damn, if I knew you wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t've waited in that line!”

    Lady #2: “Y’all need to put up a sign or something! I thought this was for the KIDS–aren’t babies kids?”

    Me: “I’ve already explained–it’s dangerous. I won’t do it, and neither will any of my coworkers.”

    Lady #2: *as they’re both walking away* “That just ain’t fair. They should have a sign.”

    Me: “Have a nice afternoon, ladies!”

    (I found out later that, after I left, the women came back twice to different painters trying to get someone to face-paint on their infants. Both times, they were told the same thing.)

    Time To Moooove To Another Cowllege

    | Missouri | Top

    (For three years, my job was to deal with angry parents. I was very good at it. Most of the time.)

    Parent: *angrily* “I need to speak to someone about my daughter’s roommates!”

    Me: “Okay, ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”

    Parent: “Her roommates are awful to her! ”

    Me: “Okay. Can you detail the problems for me? The more specific you can be, the better we can help your daughter and her roommates settle their problems.”

    Parent: “They curse, and they play loud music, and they’re, well, they’re just not *like* us.”

    Me: “In what way are they not *like* you, ma’am?”

    Parent: “Well, they’re…farm people.”

    (Twenty seconds of absolute silence as I am, for once, thrown off my game. I’ve heard racial B.S. and religious B.S., but never *farm* B.S.)

    Parent: “Not that there’s anything wrong with farm people. It’s just that we’re not farm people.”

    (I’m still in shock. She keeps going.)

    Parent: I mean, farms are useful, but we’re from the city. My daughter grew up going to the theater and to museums.”

    Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you, as a kid from a farm myself, I’ve been to the theater and to museums. What we probably have here is a personality clash.”

    (There’s about a 10 second pause that just drips with uncomfortable.)

    Parent: “Perhaps I should speak to someone else.”

    The Lost And Take Whatever I Want

    | Norway |

    Caller: “Hi, I lost my cellphone this weekend. I was wondering if you’d found it?”

    Me: “Well, maybe. What does it look like?”

    Caller: “It’s a black Nokia; orange on the sides.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, but your phone is not here.”

    Caller: “Oh. Well…can I come by and just, like, take another one?”

    Me: “Excuse me?”

    Caller: “Well, you know, since I’ve lost my phone and all, and it’s not like the phones you have is anyone’s property…”

    Me: “Ehm…well..how would you feel if I gave your phone away to someone else?”

    Caller: *silence* “Well that would be kinda rude.”

    Me: “Yes.”

    Caller: *more silence* *click*

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