Canned Response

(I’m working at the customer service desk with my coworker.  For some reason, the customers keep making the same request…)

Customer #1:  “Brains!”

Me: *as we only carry canned pork brains* “Aisle four, bottom shelf next to the Spam.”

(Customer #1 wanders off.  The phone rings and I answer it.)

Customer #2: *to my coworker* “BRAAINS!”

Coworker:  “Aisle four, on the bottom shelf next to the Spam.”

(Customer #2 says nothing and walks away.  My phone call ends just as the boss comes behind the customer service desk.)

Boss: “[My Name], would you go back and check on the stock room? I called back there a half hour ago for them to do a restock on aisle four.  What is with this run of canned meat today?”

(I go back into the stock room, which is practically destroyed.  Boxes are torn open, and cartons and cans are thrown everywhere.  None of the people scheduled to work stock are there, and the back door is wide open.  I call the customer service desk and ask for the boss.)

Me: “Boss, I don’t know what happened, but it’s a disaster back here!  Nobody’s here and all the boxes have been ripped open.”

Boss: “OK, I’ll head back to help you.”

(He arrives a couple of minutes later.)

Boss:  *looking around*  “Holy s***, what a mess!   Hey, see if you can find the boxes of brains, okay?”

Me: “Brains?!”

Voice: “BRAAAINS?”

(Boss and I look up to see someone or something shambling at us, looking half dead and drooling.  We get the heck out of there, and barricade and lock the door behind us.)

Me: “Ok. Now what?”

Boss: “Now we call corporate.  I’m not paid enough to deal with a trashed stockroom AND a zombie invasion. Let them figure out what to do!”

(Corporate told him another shipment of brains was on its way. We’re still not sure just how they meant that.)