Ill-Timed Intervention

| | Right | April 30, 2009

Me: Hi, Ma’am. How can I help you on this fine Sunday afternoon?”

Lady: “I need to talk to the owner.”

Me: “She’s not in today, ma’am. If you’d like to–”

Lady: “I need to talk to her NOW! I have a message from GOD!”

Me: “…”

Lady: “…” *glares*

Me: “Well, she’s still not in. If you wanna leave a message…”

Lady: “You don’t understand! God Himself has sent me here with a message for her; it’s important and needs to be delivered today, right now!”

Me: “God sent you here?”

Lady: “Yes, to deliver an important message to the owner.”

Me: *leaning across the counter, eyebrows raised* “Um…wouldn’t God know that the owner never works on Sundays?”

(She freaks out and begins ranting incoherently about how God will strike us down. Then she throws some things and leaves, slamming the door.)

Me: “Have a good day!”

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