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    The Prince Of Darkness Gets A Bad Rap

    , | Chicago, IL, USA |

    Me: “Hello. How can I help you?”

    Caller: “Yes, hello. I was just wondering if any of you there are Black Sabbath fans?”

    (I ask my other coworkers.)

    Me: “I’m sorry, sir. No one here seems to be huge fans or anything. Is there something I can help you with?”

    Caller: “Yeah! I need to know the name of this Black Sabbath song! It’s got a real sick beat, but I don’t know what it’s called!”

    Me: “Oh, well, if you know the lyrics I can look them up online for you to find out the title. If you’d like, I can find out if we have that CD right now.”

    Caller: “That’s the thing! I don’t know the lyrics! It just goes, ‘dunnnn, dunnn dunnnn’.”

    (He proceeds to attempt to hum the song for a few more minutes.)

    Me: “I’m really sorry, sir. But I really don’t know the name of that song.”

    Caller: “Isn’t anyone older there? Or someone that likes older music?”

    Me: “No, sorry. We’re all just a bunch of ‘young’ins’ here.”

    Caller: “Ah, I see. You are all too busy listening to rap music to know what Black Sabbath is. Thanks anyway!”

    Her Thoughts Are In Utero

    | NY, USA |

    Customer: “Do you have any Japanese music?”

    Me: “Yes, we have quite a large selection.”

    Customer: “That’s great. My daughter wanted something by, um, ah…”

    (I patiently wait.)

    Customer: “Oh, I can’t remember the name.”

    Me: “Don’t worry. Take your time. Maybe you could ask your daughter again?”

    Customer: “No, I got it. Something like… uterus?”

    Me: *pause* “Uterus?”

    Customer: “Hang on. I think I’ll call my daughter.”

    (The customer walks away, pulling out a cell. She comes back a minute later.)

    Customer: “Okay, I got it now. It’s Utada. Hikaru Utada.”

    The Day The Music Died, Part 3

    | Calgary, AB, Canada |

    Customer: “Hi, do you guys have any really small guitar cases?”

    Me: “Not really. We have mandolin cases…maybe a violin case. What kind of guitar is this for?”

    Customer: “Oh, it’s not for a guitar. It’s for the recently cremated remains of my father.”

    (I try to stop the conversation from going too dark.)

    Me: “No, not really. I could phone around. See if another store has something.”

    Customer: “That’s great, just as long as it’s cheap.”

    Related:
    The Day The Music Died

    Let It Rip

    | Portsmouth, NH, USA |

    (I work at a music store, which also sells tickets to local concerts. I have just finished selling tickets to this customer.)

    Customer: “What happens if these get ripped?”

    Me: “Most of the venues will still take the ticket as long as you have all of the pieces and the concert information is legible. If the tickets do get ripped, though, be sure to call the venue ahead of time. Just to be sure they’ll still honor them.”

    Customer: “I went to [well-known amusement park] and they wouldn’t let me in because my ticket was ripped.”

    Me: “Oh, that’s too bad.”

    Customer: “I saw them ripping the tickets as people went in. I ripped mine while waiting in line, to save time. Do you know how this place will rip the tickets? I’d like to do it before I get there.”

    Me: “I thought you were talking about accidentally ripping the tickets. Yeah, I have no idea how this place will rip the tickets. You really shouldn’t rip any tickets on purpose.”

    Customer: “Why not?”

    Me: “You never know if the ripped ticket will still be honored. You might end up not getting in and wasting your money.”

    Customer: “But it saves time!”

    Hannibal On Line Two

    , | Falls Church, VA, USA |

    Me: “Thank you for calling [name of dealership].”

    Caller: “Can I speak to the body parts department?”

    Me: “Do you mean the body shop?”

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