(I work at the photo counter of a major retailer. This happens almost everyday.)

Me: “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “I was wondering how big is an 8 x 10 photo?”

Me: *holding up fingers to approximate size* “About this big.”

Customer: “So, how big is that?”

Me: “It’s 8 inches by 10 inches.”

Customer: “So, will that fit in a 4 x 6 frame?”

Customer: “Hey, I want some Tylenol.”

Me: “For children or for adults?”

Customer: “For adults.”

Me: “At the moment, we only have the generic kind available. You know, paracetamol, also known as acetaminophen?”

Customer: “No! I don’t want any acetaminophen! Give me the other one!”

Me: “Ma’am, they are the same thing, just different names for the same ingredient.”

Customer: “Well, I just want the first one you named. Just don’t give me the other one.”

(A customer comes in and presents me with a package. I immediately note that he has the delivery address in the place of the return address, by standard postal conventions.)

Customer: “I sent this package from here last week, and it came back to me.”

Me: “Sir, you have your addresses in the wrong places.”

Customer: “Why does it matter? Can’t the post office hire people who can read?”

Me: “They can read just fine, sir. However, they do try to move quickly to get your mail out on time, so they look at the second address.”

Customer: “That just means they’re stupid and they need to learn how to read. No wonder the post office is going out of business!”

Me: “Sir, standard postal addressing conventions have the return address on top, and the delivery address on the bottom, and this is what postal employees expect to see. You have your ‘To’ and ‘From’ backwards.”

Customer: “Oh, so now this is all my fault? They deliver it wrong and you tell me it’s my fault? I hope you don’t expect to keep business that way. I won’t be coming back. I’m going to UPS.”

Me: “Have a good day, sir!”

Next customer: *having witnessed entire exchange* “UPS is going to send it back to his house too!”

Me: *nods*

(This happened a couple of summers ago. It had been a wet and warm summer, so the mosquitoes had been abnormally bad. So, when a young two-and-a-half-year-old boy come through my lane I tried to make conversation…)

Me: “Hi there, buddy!”

Boy: *big smile* “Hi!”

Me: “Looks like some mosquitoes bit ‘cha.”

Boy: “Yeah! Here…”

(He points to a bite on his arm.)

Boy: “Here…”

(He points to another bite on the same arm.)

Boy: “Here…”

(He points to yet another bite on the same arm.)

Boy: “And here!”

(The last bite is on his middle finger, which he shows me by flipping me off.)

Both the mother and me: *laughing hysterically*

(Our company is part of a global organization that holds weekend teaching conferences across North America.)

Caller: “Do you ever have programs in Canada, or just in the States?”

Me: “Our territory covers North America. We have programs in the US, Canada, and Bermuda.”

Caller: “Canada isn’t part of North America.”

Me: “Yes it is. Canada is part of North America.”

Caller: “Typical American attitude! Canada is its OWN country!”

(I’m a server at an Italian restaurant. I approach a table where my guest is pointing at a moderately-priced item on our wine list.)

Me: “Hi, there! Welcome to [restaurant]. Can I answer any questions about the wine menu?”

Customer: “Yeah, I was gonna ask if you had any wines from Venice, but then I realized there’s no dirt there!”

Related:
Getting To The Root Of The Problem

(At our take-out counter, we frequently have people order online and pay by credit card before they arrive. Once in a while, someone forgets they still have to sign the receipt when they get there.)

Caller: “Yes, hello, I’d like to speak to a manager. I have a take-out complaint.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I work at take-out; what seems to be the problem?”

Caller: “I just came and picked up my order, and it isn’t right at all!”

Me: “Oh, yes. You came in just a moment ago, grabbed the bag on the counter, and left?”

Caller: “Yes, and I already paid for it.”

Me: “True, but that bag wasn’t yours. Sir, that bag was full of our spare packets of soy sauce.”

Caller: “Oh. I was wondering why you gave me so much of the stuff.”

(I work at a movie rental store. One night, a strange man comes into my store and asks me a question.)

Customer: *without making eye contact* “Do you guys have batteries?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry but we don’t have batteries.”

Customer: “Are you sure? ‘Cause…uh…I was sure you guys had batteries.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m sure we don’t have batteries.”

Customer: “I could have sworn you guys carried batteries.”

Me: “No batteries, sorry.”

(For 5 minutes, he keeps asking me if I was sure that we didn’t carry batteries. He eventually leaves. A friend of mine who works at the store next to mine comes in about a half hour later.)

Friend: “I just had the strangest conversation. Some guy came into my store, and kept asking us if we sold–”

Me: “Batteries?”

Friend: “Yeah! How did you know?”