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  • Ballooning Out Of Control

    | Greenwich, CT, USA | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids

    (I am doing some community service the other day, handing out balloons at an adopt-a-dog fair. I have been working for a few hours when a family of three approaches.)

    Me: “Hello, would you like a balloon?”

    Woman: *snatches her baby away* “How dare you offer a balloon to a child? Do you realize how dangerous those are? Are you trying to kill my baby? Call your manager right this instant!”

    Me: *taken aback* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t actually work here. I’m doing community service.”

    Woman: *huffs* “Don’t lie to me, missy! Do you think I’m stupid? You’re just lying to get out of trouble! Now, call your manager. Now!”

    Me: *starting to get really fed up* “I don’t work here! I’m just here to I hand out balloons, and clearly you don’t want one, so I would suggest moving on to some of our other attractions.”

    Woman: “Why, of all the disrespectful—”

    (She has started to get pretty loud, so one of the managers running the fair wanders over to see what’s going on.)

    Manager: “Is there a problem?”

    Woman: “Finally! This young lady tried to give my child a balloon! Those can strangle kids! I demand to have her fired immediately!”

    Manager: *bewildered* “Sorry, what?”

    Woman: “She tried to murder my child! I can press charges!”

    Manager: “Right… Well, why don’t you go off and do that now…”

    (The woman’s storms off, taking her child with her. Her husband, who has been silent throughout the entire conversation, stays behind.)

    Husband: “Well, I don’t know about her, but I’d like a balloon…”

    Plenty Of (Full) Room To Hone Your Skills

    | USA | Crazy Requests, Hotels & Lodging, Politics

    (I enter the lobby of a hotel I’m staying at to find the receptionist face to face with a very red-faced woman.)

    Woman: “Look, stop with the bull about being full! I KNOW you always have a few rooms that you keep open for emergencies!”

    Receptionist: “Ma’am, while I am sincerely sorry, we are located at the hub of a major metropolitan area that draws over three million tourists per year. Typically we get reservations non-stop from Memorial Day to Labor Day. If we were to examine this from a logical and an economic perspective, wouldn’t it make more sense to give every room we have to those who wish to reserve them, rather than keep one or two open and thus deny ourselves the profit from them?”

    (The lady gawks and sputters, turning redder by the second.)

    Woman: “Well… what if President Obama came in and asked for a room, huh? What if one of his family came in? Would you turn them away?”

    Receptionist: “Yes, we would.”

    Woman: “Exactly! So why can’t you… wait… what?”

    Receptionist: “With all due respect, Ma’am, the President would have the sense to plan ahead so neither he nor his family would need to ask for a room. What’s more he doesn’t stay at this hotel when he comes to the area; he stays at [other hotel].”

    Woman: “But…”

    Receptionist: “FURTHERMORE, I don’t think the President would want the bad publicity from asking us to throw someone out of their room so he could take it. Therefore, why should we do that for you?”

    (The woman sputters some more, then finally just screams, loud enough that I have to cover my ears, and runs out the door to her car.)

    Receptionist: “I apologize that you had to be witness to that, sir.”

    Me: “I… uh… no, I think the apologies should go to you, as well as the congratulations for the way you handled that. Never seen someone get driven away by the force of logic.”

    Receptionist: “Yeah, well, don’t be too impressed. I’m only able to do that because I’ve had plenty of customers just like her to hone my skills on.”

    Not A Regular Response

    | TX, USA | Health & Body, Movies & TV

    (I’m at the ticket booth ordering my ticket for the movie. I happen to be 57 years old.)

    Me: “One for [Movie], please.”

    Ticketer: “Senior or regular?”

    Me: “Uh, ummm… uh… regular.”

    Ticketer: “Seven dollars, please.”

    Me: “You know, when you ask a senior if he’s regular that has a different meaning. I may be a senior but I’m regular.”

    Ticketer: *smiles*

    Not Very Closed Minded, Part 5

    | England, UK | Crazy Requests, Extra Stupid

    (I work on Sundays; in the UK, the law states our shop can only be open for six hours. We close at half past four, but the staff stay until 5 pm. It’s quarter to 5, and I notice a woman in our car park, looking at the items we have outside. She looks at the door, and I think she’s seen the sign that says our opening times, so don’t shoo her away until I notice her picking some items up, and moves towards the door, only to find it locked. She rattles the door.)

    Me: “We’re closed, sorry!”

    Customer: “What?”

    Me: “We close at half past four!”

    Customer: “What?”

    Me & Manager: “We’re closed!”

    Customer: *shouting to her little boy* “[Name]! Get here. They’re closed!”

    (Thinking that’s the end of it, we go back to what we were doing. Suddenly she bangs on the door.)

    Customer: “…does this mean I can’t buy anything?”

    Related:
    Not Very Closed Minded, Part 4
    Not Very Closed Minded, Part 3

    Don’t Hate All Men, Just You

    | USA | Bad Behavior, Bigotry

    (I answer the phone and the most misogynistic guy I’ve ever talked to states he is on hold for a supervisor. I apologize and say he was misinformed he was holding for one, ask for his account number, and offer to help him.)

    Me: *after a few seconds of silence and no response* “Sir?”

    Caller: “Yes, I’m holding for a supervisor. Are you one?”

    Me: “No… This is the same operator you were speaking to. As I explained, I can’t transfer you to a supervisor. If you’d like to speak to one, I’ll need your account number so I can—”

    Caller: “—I’m not giving you my account number. That’s private information. Now, put an adult on the phone.”

    Me: *thinking its going to be one of THOSE calls* “I am an adult, sir. I’m 38.”

    Caller: “Sure you are.” *talking to someone in the background* “I’ve got some man-hating idiot lesbian on the phone who won’t help me. She talks like an ignorant d***.”

    Me: *mouth open in shock* “Sir, if you can’t be professional—”

    Caller: “—Look, I want to speak to a supervisor. I know you must hate men, and I don’t need to take your abuse. If you want to abuse someone go home and abuse your girlfriend.”

    Me: “Sir, there is no need for how you are talking to me. I am trying to assist you. May I please have your account number?” *dead air for about 10 seconds on the line* “Sir?”

    Caller: “Yes, I am holding for a supervisor. May I please speak to one?”

    Me: *wishing I could reach through the phone to slap him* “I heard you the first few times you said that, sir, and I still can’t transfer you to—”

    Caller: “—Look, I know you are an ignorant d*** who isn’t capable of doing this job. Be a good girl and transfer me to someone who is an adult and know what they are doing so you can go home, abuse your girlfriend, and look for a job at McDonald’s where you might actually be qualified to work.”

    Me: *struggling hard to remain professional myself* “Sir, if you can’t be professional I will have to end the call. I am trying to assist you. If you want to speak to a supervisor, I need to have your account number so I can issue a call back.” *silence on the line again* “Sir?”

    Caller: “Yes, I’m holding for a supervisor. Did that d*** finally transfer me to one?”

    Me: *finally had it* “Sir, it’s still me and I heard you the first few times you said that. I am not transferring you to a supervisor. If you won’t give me your account number and speak to me politely, I will have to end this call.”

    Caller: “Don’t you talk to me like that, you d*** b****. I’m not giving you my account number so you can steal my info! Put a f****** adult on the phone like a good little lesbian. Don’t know why they hired a r***** like you. You probably are too dumb to work at McDonald’s, too. I want a supervisor. NOW.”

    Me: “I’ve warned you multiple times about how you’re talking to me. You are refusing any assistance I can give you and you are being vulgar. Thank you for calling. Have a nice day. I am disconnecting the call.”

    Caller: “Don’t you dare—”

    Me: *doesn’t let him finish and hits the release button*

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