(It is 6:00 AM on Black Friday. There is a queue waiting to come into the store as soon as I lift the gate. Once the gate goes up, the crowd surges into the store. Immediately, a customer pushes his way through the crowd and begins shouting to me.)

Customer: *shouting* “Where are your ‘Touch Me, Big Guy’ toys?!”

(Overhearing this, everyone in earshot goes silent.)

Me: “Um, I don’t think we carry that toy.”

Customer: “Of course you do! It is really popular this year! You rub and squeeze the toy’s stomach and it giggles in happiness! You know ‘Touch me, Big Guy’!”

Me: “You don’t mean ‘Tickle Me Elmo’, do you?”

Customer: “Is that what it is called?”

(The crowd begins making noise again.)

Customer: “I suppose you might be wondering what Christmas is like at my house.”

Me: “No, sir, not in the slightest.”

(A customer is about to buy an M-rated game, which can only be purchased by people over the age of 17. My store is really strict about checking ID.)

Me: “And may I see some ID, please?”

Customer: “Why? What for?”

Me: “Because this is an M-rated game, and I am required to ask for ID.”

Customer: “Buddy, I’m 31, and it shows. You don’t need to see my ID.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I do need to see your ID. Otherwise, I risk my job and the store risks a fine.”

Customer: “Are you kidding me? Normally, when people ask me for ID, it’s a compliment, but coming from you, you just sound like a bureaucratic snot! Don’t waste my time, and just sell me the d*** game!”

(Another customer standing behind him taps him on the shoulder.)

Customer #2:“Hey, you said you’re 31, right?”

Customer: “Yeah! And this little punk is giving me a hard time about it!”

Customer #2:“How old is your kid? You may be 31, but you seem a little too young to be the father of a 17-year old, which this game is intended for.”

Customer: “What are you talking about? I don’t have any kids. This game is for me!”

Customer #2: *incredulously* “You’re 31 and still play video games?!”

(The 31-year old customer turns red and leaves the store in a huff. Since he’s gone, I go on to serve the next customer.)

Customer #2: “I’m actually older than he is and I play games, too. Since he was adamant about not showing his ID, I figured he had insecurities. I thought it would be fun to mess with him a little, and boy was I right!”

(I work in a mobile phone store. An elderly customer comes in with a slider handset and holds it up so I can see the screen.)

Customer: “What’s that little red arrow mean on my phone?”

Me: “It means you missed a call, sir. If you hold down the green button for a moment, it’ll show you who called you so you can try and call them back.”

Customer: “Oh, and the yellow box?”

Me: “That means someone sent you a message, sir.”

Customer: “Get rid of it please. I don’t do messages. I only call people.”

(I oblige, clearing the message and missed call notification from his phone.)

Customer: “I think my voicemail’s broken, too. People keep saying they’ve tried to call me but I don’t get a message.”

Me: “Let’s see if I can find out why.”

(I call voicemail from his handset and the automatic lady runs through three or four blank voice messages. They’re the kind one gets if the called reaches the voice mail system and then hangs up before leaving a message.)

Me: “All right, sir, it seems people are getting to the voicemail and then just not leaving you a message.”

Customer: “That’s bollocks. My friend says he always leaves a message for me.”

Me: “Well, let me check, just in case.”

(I call his phone from my own, let it go to voicemail, then record a quick test message and hang up. Sure enough, when I check the voicemail on his phone, I’m there clear as day, with the full message I left.)

Me: “Sounds like it’s working fine, sir. Perhaps he just hung up too soon?”

Customer: “No, I know him. He’s not that thick. I know it’s got to be your service!”

(After about a half hour of testing the service with coworker’s phones calling his, some on other networks, the problem fails to come up again. We all manage to leave messages without fault.)

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I think your friend’s phone or service has to be the issue here, because your voicemail is working fine.”

Customer: “Are you calling him stupid? I’ll bring him down here. You’ll regret it then! He’s ex-navy!”

Me: “I’m just trying to help sir, there’s no need for threats. As far as I can tell your, voicemail is absolutely fine.”

Customer: “Well, how do I turn it off? I never check it anyway!”

(I am a student working in the on campus bookstore. A customer comes in and approaches me.)

Me: “Hi, can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I need a map of Washington.”

Me: “Washington state or Washington, D.C.?”

Customer: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Do you need a map for Washington state or Washington, D.C.?”

Customer: *confused* “What’s the difference, and what do you mean by D.C.?”

Me: “Well, one is a state above Oregon on the West coast, and the other—Washington, D.C.—is an area on the east coast. ‘D.C.’ stands for District of Columbia.”

Customer: “No, not in Colombia! In America!”

Me: “Ma’am, Washington, D.C. is in America. That is what it is called.”

Customer: “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. I just need a map of Washington for my political science class.”

Me: “Ah, then I’ll get you a map of Washington, D.C.”

Customer: “I think you’re wrong. I am going to tell my professor you guys are giving out maps of Colombia!” *walks away looking very annoyed*

Related:
Make Benefit Glorious Guestlogisticstan
The Great State Of Confusion, Part 2
The Great State Of Confusion
The Great State Of Ignorance

(This customer has a problem with his remote control. I help him reprogram it and everything is working just fine now.)

Me: “Well, sir, it looks like we got everything working. If you do ever have a problem with your remote control, we do have instructions on how to program them on our website.”

Customer: “Thank you. I am a little worried about breaking this thing though.”

Me: “Don’t worry, through normal use, you shouldn’t have a problem.”

Customer: “Are you sure?”

Me: *jokingly* “Just don’t hit the self destruct button and you’ll be fine.”

(There is a long moment of silence.)

Customer: “Um, I can’t find the self destruct button.”

Customer: “Do you have butane?”

Me: “Butane?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Butane, like the gas?”

Customer: “Yes, it’s for your skin and hair.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I doubt that’s safe. Butane is a type of lighter fluid. I am almost positive it is not beneficial for your hair or skin.”

Customer: “I use it all the time. I swallow it and it works. Butane.”

(Puzzled, I look at the woman for a few…and then it hits me.)

Me: “Do you mean biotin?”

Customer: “Yes, butane!”

(I work for a call center for a popular marine life theme park in Florida.)

Caller: “I need to cancel the pass for one of my members. He’s deceased.”

(I look into the account and realize that a few months prior, she had another pass for the same guy cancelled as well, due to him also being deceased. Since the first cancelled pass, this individual had been to the park four separate times.)

Me: “Ma’am, I apologize, but I am unable to cancel this pass. For verification purposes, you would need to fax the appropriate paperwork or go to guest relations at the park.”

Caller: *defeated* “Fine, how about I just pay it off in full?”

(A middle-aged man approaches my register with a carton of beer, which he struggles to lift onto the counter.)

Customer: “I must be getting old. I can’t even get it up anymore!”

(There’s a long awkward silence as he realizes what he said.)

Customer: “Oh…I’m so sorry!”