A Maximus Clone-icus

(I work for a call centre affiliated with a car manufacturer. I’ve been speaking with a private dealer about an issue with a secondhand vehicle she bought.)

Me: “All right, let me just take some details down and we can process your claim.”

Dealer: “Sorry, can you hold for just a moment? One of our regulars has just come in; he’s a bit of a handful.”

Me: “Sure, no worries. A handful?”

Dealer: “Well, he thinks he’s Russell Crowe…”

Me: “Seriously?”

Dealer: “Yes, he’s utterly convinced of it. He cruises around in a black Mercedes with custom plates which read ‘CROWE.’ I’ll just be a minute, sorry.”

(The call ended while I was on hold. I can only hope Mr. Crowe didn’t try to do an impromptu rendition of “Gladiator” in the foyer or something.)