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    Crap, I Got Spawn Of Gorgoroth

    | Northern California, USA |

    (I work at an store that sells teaching materials. A very heavyset guy in a wheel chair comes in. Keep in mind I was the only person in the store at the time.)

    Me: “Hello! Can I help you find anything today?”

    Him: “Yes, I’d like to get an algebra book for my nephew.”

    Me: “Okay.

    (I show him the algebra books, and we make small talk about his nephew…)

    Him: “I can see the divine light in you.”

    Me: “…”

    Him: “I went up to the mountain and Jesus burned the sins out of me. I couldn’t see anything except fire. Now I can see the divine light in people. You have it. You are pure and innocent.”

    Me: *trying not to be completely freaked out* “Huh…heh…”

    Him: “I can see it…you are immortal!”

    Me: “Okay…”

    (Later, when my boss came back and I told her about this, she laughed and told me that according to this guy she was a Demon Slayer. I felt kind of gypped.)

    Sorry, The Teleporter’s On The Fritz Again

    | Vancouver, BC, Canada |

    (A customer phones in to make a payment on their financing account.)

    Me: “How may I help you?”

    Customer: “I’d like to make a payment on my account.”

    (I get the customer’s information and tell them how much their due payment is…)

    Me: “And did you want to pay with Visa or Mastercard?”

    Customer: “Cash.”

    Me: “You have to come into the store to pay cash, sir.”

    Customer: “Oh, I do?”

    Me: “…”

    Change Begins On The Home Front

    | California, USA |

    (I work at a Landscaping Supply company. Selling dirt, rock, compost, etc. I work in the office, answering phones and helping people work out how much material they need for their jobs. A lady came in and filled up a few small containers with cobble-rocks and wanted to know how much she owed, so I went outside to look at her
    product.)

    Me: “Hmm. Looks like three cubic feet. We’ll go inside and ring you up!” *starts walking back inside*

    Lady: *doesn’t move*

    Me: *stops by the door* “Is there something else I can help you with, ma’am?”

    Lady: “Well. I watched on the Discovery Channel that men are better with visual volume than women. So if you can get one of the -guys- to look at my materials, I’d appreciate it.”

    (At this point I’m absolutely floored. I am a victim of a lot of sexism with my line of work, but from ANOTHER WOMAN? Give me a break! Forget that I’ve been doing this for five years and approved by the county with a huge certificate on the back wall of the office, lady!)

    Me: “Sure. Give me one moment.” *steps inside, pulls one of the random boys aside* “Can you look at this lady’s load?”

    Male Co-Worker: “…didn’t you look at it?”

    Me: “Apparently because I have boobs I can’t tell visual volume, so can you just make her happy?”

    Male Co-Worker: “Sure, how much did you say?”

    Me: “Three cubic feet.”

    Male Co-Worker: “Thanks.”

    (Basically, he goes out there and tells her the same exact thing. She comes in, and doesn’t even apologize for causing the trouble, pays for the material and pikes out without another word).

    Related:
    The Joy of Sex(ism), Part 2
    The Joy of Sex(ism)

    Time To Fire The Marketing Department

    | Lansing, IL, USA |

    (I work at a large electronics retail chain, the largest in the world, that has very large lighted signs on the outside of their buildings, an easily recognizable color scheme, and million-dollar highly polished TV commercials.)

    (I was standing near computer software, towards the BACK of the store, when a customer walked straight down the center aisle, passing all the other departments and products, and right up to me. He opened his mouth, paused for a second, and asked me:)

    Customer: “What store is this?”

    Of All The Times To Dial A Wrong Number

    | Austin, TX, USA |

    (Okay, so I was answering the phone and this guy calls us instead of the number he means to…)

    Me: “Hello?”

    Him: “Hey baby.”

    Me: “What?”

    Him: “I’ve got the stuff for tonight, are you ready for it?”

    Me: “Um, WHAT?”

    Him: “You know what, babe…”

    Me: “I think you have the wrong number…”

    Him: “Oh good lord, I’m sorry! BYE!” *click*

    (Me and my mother laughed about that one for a good 5 minutes.)


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