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Category: Extra Stupid

This site is full of Customers; their stupid and moronic exploits that make us laugh. But these gems contained within are for those special cases, the extra stupid, the ones that make you wonder how they have survived this long!

This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 41

| USA | At The Checkout, Extra Stupid, Money

(I’m a cashier at a grocery store. I’ve just run up this customer’s items and she slides a card through the EFTPOS. I get a ‘do not honor’ error on my screen. For whatever reason, sometimes our machines give us this error if someone enters the wrong PIN.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Could you try that again, please?”

(She slides it through again and I see she’s selecting credit, not debit, so it can’t be the incorrect PIN. I get the error message again.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but it’s not going through. Do you have another form of payment?”

Customer: “Oh, sure!”

(She turns to her husband, who dutifully spreads out like a deck of cards at least 15 credit and debit cards. I stare, mouth agape, as she carefully chooses one and slides it through.)

Me: “Uh… well, that one worked.”

Customer: *laughs* “Of course it did! When you run out of money on one, you just move on to the next card in line!”

(Her husband nods and they gather up their groceries. The next customer comes up and shakes her head.)

Customer #2: “I feel sorry for the poor card rep who’ll have to explain to those idiots that money isn’t free when they’re $300,000 in debt.”

Me: “Amen, sister.”

Related:
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 40
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 39
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 38

35 Cents Too Rich For That Wallet

| TX, USA | Extra Stupid, Technology, Transportation

(I work at the student mail center on a university campus, and we constantly have 18-year-old freshmen come in who have never mailed a letter in their lives, and have no idea how it works.)

Customer: “Hi! So, I’ve never done this before, but I have to mail a thing.”

Me: “Okay. What is it you have to mail?”

Customer: “Just a thing. How much is it?”

Me: “Well, I have to see what you’re mailing. Do you have it with you?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Go ahead and take it out for me.”

Customer: *takes a wallet out of her backpack* “Just this.” *puts it back in her backpack*

Me: “Okay, well I need you to take it back out so I can weigh it. Does this have to get anywhere fast?”

Customer: *has not taken the wallet back out yet* “I don’t know. How long does it take?”

Me: “Depends on where it’s going.”

Customer: “I’m sending it to my brother.”

Me: “Okay, where?”

Customer: “To my brother’s house, duh.”

Me: “Yes, but where is your brother’s house?”

Customer: “Oh, in [Town about an hour from here].”

Me: “Okay, then in that case, if you put it in this envelope, it’ll get there in about three days. Is that okay?”

Customer: “Sure, whatever.”

Me: “So just write your address here, and your brother’s address in the middle, and when you’re done, it’ll be about $3 all together.”

Customer: “…Why?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “My friend said it would only cost like thirty-five cents to mail something.”

Me: “Um, that’s not really how it works. It’s based on weight and—”

Customer: “But my friend said it would only be like thirty-five cents!”

Me: “Look, even if all you were mailing was a postcard, that would be thirty-seven cents. If you were mailing a single sheet of paper, it would be forty-nine cents. But you’re mailing a wallet. Even at the cheapest shipping, you’d be looking at about two and a half dollars for postage, and fifty cents for the envelope.”

Customer: *rolls her eyes* “Whatever. I have to ask my mom if I’m allowed to spend more than thirty-five cents on this.”

(Then she walked off and we never saw her again.)

Genderalising The Problem

| Denver, CO, USA | Crazy Requests, Extra Stupid, Home Improvement

(I work in a plumbing and heating store. I am one of three females on the staff. For clarity, the toilet roughs are the lines that run from the base of toilet to the wall.)

Customer: “I need a new toilet rough for [really popular toilet that we sell].”

Me: “Okay, do you know what size?”

Customer: “11 Inches.”

Me: “Do you mean 12 inches? Those toilet roughs only come in 10, 12, and 14 inches.”

Customer: “No, I mean 11 inches. I asked my plumber and he said that is what it uses.”

Me: “Well, the end of the valve will be in the wall, so it could appear to be only 11 inches. The entire thing, however, would be 12 inches. We have lots of those in stock.”

Customer: “No, it’s eleven inches! God, why do they hire girls to do these jobs?”

Me: “Did your plumber measure the area for the toilet?”

Customer: “No, he just knows what toilet it is, unlike you!”

Me: “Sir, what you want is not made. The rough you want comes in 10, 12, and 14 inches. It won’t be the 10 or 14 inch rough that you need, since you bought the 12 inch. You have the industry standard of 12 inches, like most people. Now, your price for that would be $68.25.”

Customer: “Can I get someone who knows what they are doing now? I don’t want to give you money. I cannot believe a place like this bothered to hire women.”

Me: “Sir, you can go to any plumbing house in this city and they will all tell you that what you want does not exist. I sell this toilet every week. It’s a 12 inch rough.”

Customer: “Give. ME. Someone. Who. Knows. What. They. Are. Talking. About!”

(I call the boss.)

Boss: “What is the problem here?”

Customer: “She doesn’t know her job! I bought this toilet from you and she won’t give me the right rough!”

Boss: “What size rough do you need?”

Customer: “11!”

Boss: “This brand does not make an eleven. It comes in 10, 12, or 14. The one you bought requires a 12 inch rough.”

Customer: *to me* “Why didn’t you tell me that!”

Male Coworker: “She did. Many times. You refused to listen and were too busy being focused on her gender.”

Customer: “I did not! Give me the right valve!”

Boss: “No. Go somewhere else.”

Customer: “But I bought the toilet here!”

Boss: ‘Then what happened to the rough it came with?”

Customer: “I lost it.”

Boss: “Not my problem.”