Archive for 2008

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Who Needs Enemies When You Have Customers

| Bellingham, WA, USA | Uncategorized

(A customer comes storming in a few days after a sale.)

Customer: “I want to speak to the person who sold me this!”

Me: “Actually, I believe that was me. I remember you.”

Customer: “No, it couldn’t have been you! The girl I spoke with had long hair!”

(I wordlessly take my hair out of the ponytail.)

Customer: “No, she was prettier than you are. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

And Just Think, You’ll Meet Them In Multiplayer

, | Long Island, New York, NY, USA | Uncategorized

(So, GTA4 came out recently… it never occurred to me how many people didn’t know roman-bloody-numerals.)

Customer: “I’d like to pre-order Grand Theft Auto Five.”

Me: “Four.”

Customer: “Four? No. I wanted Five. Four is old.”

Me: “Four is the one coming out in a week or so.”

Customer: “No it isn’t! It’s GTA Five you…” *mumbles*

Me: “Sir. That’s GTAIV. IV is Four. V is Five.”

Customer: “Well if you’re going to lie to me, I’m going to another store!” (…and he did.)

(Another occasion…)

Customer: “What is that… Grand Theft Auto Eye Vee…”

Me: “Four.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Grand Theft Auto Four.”

Customer: “I don’t understand.”

Me: “It’s like the Rocky Movies.”

Customer: “OH. Oh. I see now. Heh. Four.”

(And finally, the big day: GTA IV was due to be released at midnight. I lost all hope for humanity when a customer came in and paid off the game, then asked…)

Customer: “Excuse me, what’s midnight?”

Nothin’ Like A Good Old Existential Meltdown

| St. Andrews, Scotland, UK | Uncategorized

(I’m confronted by a customer with an extremely high pitched voice and impenetrable Highland accent. This is one of those tiny old Scottish women with a headscarf nailed on and muscles like steel wires. They are a common sight in the East of Scotland, and are almost immortal. Only the slow action of the wind off the north sea will gradually erode them.)

Me: “That will be £***, please.”

Old Lady: “Areyenamerican?”

Me: “I beg your pardon?”

Old Lady: “Ah sid, are ye Namerican?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I missed that.”

Old Lady: “Are… ye… an… American?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I misheard you. No, I’m English.”

Old Lady: “Oh… why?”

(I have spent much of the last three years trying to come up with a satisfactory answer. As yet I have made no progress.)