Category: Transportation

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Doesn’t Register How Stupid You’re Being

| Nottingham, England, UK | Crazy Requests, Transportation

(I work in a retail chain selling car parts and accessories. We are often asked by customers to look up parts for their vehicle. The most accurate way to search is using the car’s registration number. One day a customer marches up to me and, without first politely asking for my attention or assistance, he barks his order at me.)

Customer: “I want brake pads for my car.”

Me: *politely* “Sure, can I take your registration number, please?”

Customer: *getting instantly high rate* “Why should I tell you that? I’m not giving you my registration number.”

Me: “It’s the most accurate way of finding out what parts you need. If you’d rather not give me the registration that’s fine I can do a manual search. What car is it?”

Customer: “I’m not telling you what car I have!”

Me: “How am I supposed to tell you what parts you need without telling me what car you have?”

Customer: “You should just know.”

Me: “Sir, with the kindest of respects there are thousands of different vehicles on the road with literally hundreds of thousands of parts available. Even a fully qualified mechanic would first need to look up what parts are required for a particular vehicle and we’re not mechanics here; we just work in a shop. Besides it would be impossible for anybody to tell you what parts are required without first knowing what car it is!”

Customer: “Fine, it’s a Ford.”

Me: “And what model Ford is it?”

Customer: “A blue one.”

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His Hate Engine Is Running Fine, However

| Bristol, England, UK | Bad Behavior, Technology, Transportation

(I work for a small software company that had previously been owned by a well-known breakdown cover provider.)

Me: “Good morning, [Company]. How can I help?”

Customer: “I’ve broken down; I need you to come and get me.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but this isn’t [Breakdown Cover Provider]; you have the wrong number.”

Customer: “WHAT?! I looked up the number on the Internet for the Bristol branch and it gave me this number. Don’t lie to me.”

Me: “This is a software company. We were previously owned by [Breakdown Cover Provider] but we haven’t been part of that company for a while.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t have time for this; you have to sort it out. I’m stuck on the side of the road and I can’t look up the number from here.”

Me: “I thought you’d already looked up the number on your phone which is how you got this number.”

Customer: “DON’T GET SMART WITH ME! Give me the god-d*** number now!”

(I realise there is no point in arguing so I look up the number on my computer whilst he is screaming at me.)

Me: “Okay, sir, the number is [number]. I hope you get everything sorted. Have a nice day.”

Customer: “Why couldn’t you just do that straight away instead of arguing with me? F*** YOU!” *hangs up*

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You Can Scream Your Lungs Out But They Still Won’t Listen

| Round Rock, TX, USA | Bad Behavior, Family & Kids, Popular, Transportation

(It’s nine pm. I am outside working “curb side” service, which allows customers to drive up near the store and have us load their bags. A lady comes up in an SUV loaded with her kids. I’m momentarily confused because we don’t have any carts with her groceries, but then she comes around to explain.)

Mom: “Hi, my son was in a car accident. We just got out of the hospital and I just need to grab a few items and it’ll take five minutes. Can I leave my car here?”

Me: “Well, no, we might have other customers come and we need this area clear for carry out.”

Mom: “Well, my son has broken ribs and a punctured lung and I don’t want to leave him.”

Me: “Well, if it’s only going to take a minute, I guess it’d be okay if you park a little ways down.”

(It was a fire lane area, but I’d seen people park there before for brief periods of time, so I figured it’d be okay.)

Mom: “Yeah, thank you!”

(She parks and goes inside. Since I don’t have any curb side orders to pack, I go over to talk to the kid, just some casual chit-chat. He’s 18 or 19 and the mom wasn’t lying; he’s clearly under pain killers and pretty out of it. Unfortunately, the other kids in the car are the most unruly children I’ve ever seen. At one point, one of them, about 10 years old, gets out of the car holding a one-year-old and just starts running around the car.)

Son: “Get the f*** back in the car!”

Kid: “You can’t tell me what to do!”

(The son has to get out of the car for the kid to obey. I have to go back and work, and after being busy for a while, I’m surprised to see the car is still there. It’s been nearly an hour and our security lead comes out. I explain the mom said she said she was only going to take minutes, and he goes over to ask them to move since it’s on a fire lane and has been parked there for almost an hour.)

Son: “You guys f****** said we could part here. This is bulls***!”

Security Guy: “You’ve been parked here for almost an hour and it’s a fire lane. You have to move.”

(The son isn’t pleased but he limps around to the driver’s seat and parks in a spot only about 20 feet further from where they were parked. Finally, the mom comes out of the store. It’s been about an hour and a half and the bags are literally stacked over the top of the cart. She finds her car, and then comes back up to me at the curb side. A coworker happens to be taking a break with me, and he had also seen this whole thing play out.)

Mom: “Are you f****** kidding me?! My son was just in the hospital and has a punctured lung.”

Me: “Ma’am, you said you were only going to take a few minutes and you were parked on a fire lane.”

Mom: *absolutely steaming at this point* “What are your names?!”

Coworker: “It’s [Coworker]. Let me spell it out for you.” *spells his last name*

Me: “Yeah, mine is [My Name]. Feel free.”

(She storms off back to the car and for a second I think it might be over, but no. She gets the son and they both walk back up to the store. I’ve already grabbed the manager and security lead and we meet right inside the store. The mom is screaming and cussing him out.)

Mom: “YOU SAID WE COULD PARK THERE! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE MY SON MOVE! HE WAS JUST IN THE HOSPITAL!”

Security: “Like I said, it’s a fire lane and you were parked there for more than an hour.”

Me: “You clearly said it was only four or five items.”

Mom: “F*** you! My son was in the hospital. See? Show them, honey.”

(Walking up to the store, I had seen the kid stop and cough pretty violently, probably, you know, because he shouldn’t have been walking around with a punctured lung. Now, he spits at the feet of the manager, and some of it is clearly blood. My manager has finally had enough.)

Manager: “I need you to get the h*** out of my store, and don’t bother coming back.”

(The mom finally left with her son. That was probably the fastest a night at work ever went by.)