Archive for 2012

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Up And Down Is Not Right

| Thornton, CO, USA | Right | October 19, 2012

(I do tech support for a satellite TV company. Often, troubleshooting requires that we walk customers through various menus to reset or fix certain settings. All of these are navigated by the remote, and the agents would walk the customer through each and every screen with detailed directions. I have been on the phone with a caller for an hour and a half.)

Me: “…and so, sir, I need you to push the left arrow on your remote until the dial all the way on the left of your screen is highlighted.”

Caller: “It’s not working.”

Me: “Well, that’s strange. Let’s back out one step and try it again. Go ahead and select the third option on the list. Now, once you’re in this next screen, press the left arrow button four times.”

(This continues for some time, with the customer telling me various and strange results that he should not have gotten following the directions.)

Me: “Okay, sir. Now, select the third option. Push the left arrow button once. What do you see highlighted in yellow?”

Caller: “It says ‘satellite feed’.”

Me: “That’s the button above the default. Sir, which button are you pushing? We need to go to the left of the screen.”

Caller: “Wait, did you mean left as in ‘left and right’, or left as in ‘up and down’?”

Me: *pause* “Left as in ‘left and right’, sir.”

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Ignorant About Immigrants

| St. Louis, MO, USA | Right | October 19, 2012

(All of the signs in our store are both in English and Spanish.)

Me: “Welcome to [store name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I wanna know why the h*** you people cater to them Mexicans!”

Me: “I’m sorry your feel that way, sir. But it is company policy that we post in multiple languages; we even have a phone line that can translate for our customers. We consider it good customer service.” 

Customer: “That is bull! We are in America and people should speak American!”

Me: *getting ornery* “Well, sir, even I don’t speak American. I speak English.”

Customer: “You are one of those Brits! Probably came here to take a good American job just like the rest of them!”

Me: “No sir, I’m not British. I was born and raised right here in Missouri.” 

Customer: “Then why don’t you speak American?”

(At this point my coworker, having overheard everything, steps in.)

Coworker: “Because ‘American’ isn’t a language.”

Customer: “Yes it is! You d*** foreign people are taking over! I’m never shopping here again!” *leaves*

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How To Deal With A Customer’s Crap

| Property Management|TX, USA | Right | October 19, 2012

(I am a property manager for a homeowner’s association. I get a call from a homeowner.)

Homeowner: “Yes, I’m calling to tell you that you need to pick up the dirty diaper in my front lawn.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, that’s not what I do.”

Homeowner: “Well, somebody needs to pick it up! Who do you think will pick it up if you don’t?!”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s your house. You’re responsible for maintaining your home. I’m not obligated to clean your lawn.”

Homeowner: “Well, then you can rot in H*** along with that diaper!”

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Being The Bigger Man

| Edinburgh, Scotland, UK | Right | October 19, 2012

(I am standing in a line for a checkout at a supermarket, when I look over and see a family with two kids in another line. The kids are throwing stuff everywhere, tins, bottles, and jars. The cashier, a young girl, is frantically trying to calm them down. Note: I’m pretty big, about 6’3″ and broad, plus I have a black eye, cut nose and a cut across my lip from a sports match the day before.)

Cashier: *to kids* “Please stop throwing things. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

Father: “How dare you! You people just get off on telling other people what to do! You’re all just fascists, that’s what!”

Cashier: “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but your kids are going to end up hurting someone, and then it’ll be a big problem for all of us.”

Mother: “Are you threatening us?”

Cashier: *looking shocked and confused* “No! Not at all. I’m just saying that it would be best if you asked your children to stop before someone gets hurt.”

Father: “You’re still making threats! Either you stop with that right now or I swear to God I will give you a big problem! I’m going to make you sorry you were born, unless you shut the f*** up right now!”

(I catch the cashier’s eye, and she looks hopeless. I bend down, pick up a tin thrown by one of the kids and quietly move to just behind the parents.)

Me: “Excuse me.”

(They spin round. The father is not that tall, about 5’10”, so he’s pretty much looking me in the neck. I point at my black eye and battered face.)

Me: “One of your kids just hit me in the face. Is this a problem I should take up with you personally, or should I just call the police?”

(I’m looming over him now, very much invading his personal space.)

Father: “Oh, God, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Me: “I would recommend you apologise to the nice lady who’s been putting up with you for the last 10 minutes without calling the police. It seems she’s had far more to deal with than me!”

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“Chill Out”

| Right | October 19, 2012

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