(I work in a climbing hall which contains a large boulder area where are three levels of difficulty marked with the letters S, M, L. This means ‘Schwer’, the highest difficulty, ‘Mittel’ which is a medium route to climb and ‘Leicht’ for the easiest options. There is a sign next to the entrance explaining the rating system and the whole word the letters stand for is written in small text under the difficulty-signs. A female customer approaches me.)

Customer: “Hi there, I have a question about the boulder difficulties written on the signs.”

Me: “Sure, go ahead.”

Customer: “First, why are the boulders rated with clothing sizes? And why are the ‘S’ routes so insane difficult? I didn’t even manage to do one of them?”

Me: “Miss, you realize the letters do not stand for small, medium, and large? In fact, there’s a sign two meters from you explaining the difficulties and it’s also written beneath every sign here. ‘S’ therefore is the most difficult thing you can do here.”

Customer: “I don’t care about your god-d*** f****** signs explaining s***! S,M,L are definite clothing sizes as they have always been! Now move you lazy a** and reassign those f****** signs so I can climb my ‘S’ routes as I want!”

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, that the standard system of rating boulders does not fit your expectations. Nevertheless, I cannot and will not change the standardised system as it would confuse every other customer. Also I have to ask you to watch your language as there are children close by.”

(By saying that I can see the customer is not going to accept the answer and indeed she goes off, shouting me names and threatening to push the stones into my butt if I won’t serve her the way she wants.)

Me: “Madam, please try to calm down and please stop swearing; it disturbs our other customers, especially the children!”

(The customer by now ignores me and is shouting in full voice about the system. The manager comes over and gets the customer escorted out by two coworkers.)

Manager: “So, let me guess. That lady could not get over the shock of hearing that S,M,L are not always clothing sizes, too?”

Me: “‘too’? You mean this was not the first time that happened?”

Manager: “Well, let’s say some women are a bit special about stuff concerning their clothes…”

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(I’m the customer in this story. I’ve recently moved to a new state and applied to transfer my driver’s license. As such I’m having to use a temporary paper license until my new one is mailed to me.)

Cashier: *seeing I have a bottle of wine among my purchases* “Sir, can I see your ID for the alcohol?”

Me: “Sure.” *shows him the temporary license I have*

Cashier: “Umm, sir, that’s no good on its own. I need to see your old license, too, if you have it.”

Me: “Really? Umm… can I quickly dash out to my car and grab it? I’ll only be a moment.”

Cashier: *eyes me suspiciously* “You actually have it in your car? Not playing me here?”

Me: “Nope, swear to God. I have my old license right out in my car. If you can put my stuff aside I promise I’ll be right back.”

Cashier: *still suspicious* “Okay.”

(I run out, grab my old driver’s license, and run back inside. I join the back of the line at the cashier’s register, but upon seeing me he does a double take and gestures for me to come to the bagging area.)

Cashier: “Wow, you actually came back?”

Me: “Yep, here’s my old license. Really sorry if I held you up there. I’ve never had to transfer my license before so I didn’t know how it works if you only have a temporary one.”

(The cashier checks my ID, then looks at me with an odd expression. He looks to the wine, then just picks it up and puts it with my other stuff without ringing it up.)

Cashier: “Here, have a drink on me for being the one customer who actually acted sensibly when told there was a problem with his ID.”

Me: *amazed* “Uh… wow, really? You don’t have to do that.”

Cashier: “Sir, I wasn’t exaggerating there when I said you are the only one who didn’t throw a fit, or complain. Consider it a ‘gentleman’s discount.'”

(I made sure to enjoy that wine to the utmost. To that cashier, your gentlemanly customer empathizes with your plight and was glad to prove an exception to the rule.)

(I am helping a customer with her two children carry shopping bags out to her car.)

Customer: *to child* “Be careful on the road, sweety! Oh, here’s my car.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. Have a lovely day!”

Customer: *in a babying tone* “Thank you, sweety. Be careful walking back.” *pats me on the head*

Me: “…”

Mother: “I’ve been spending way too much time with my kids.”

Caller: “I would like to get a better auto insurance rate.”

Me: “I’ll be glad to go over your policy for possible discounts.”

Caller: “No need. The discount that I want added is one that most people will not qualify for. I belong to an elite group of drivers that do not ever have accidents.”

Me: “Unfortunately, sir, we do not offer that discount.”

(Probably because that caller was the only one in that ‘elite’ group.)

Related:
Pre(Car)ious Insurance, Part 5

(I am having a conversation via Skype with a friend in Japan. I am very bad at speaking Japanese and she is almost as bad at speaking English. We’re hoping to exchange languages. I have asked her whether Japanese people think that American people are emotional.)

Friend: “Yes. Japanese people think that American people are…”

(She keeps repeating a Japanese word that I do not know. She cannot think of the English word for it. I see her start to type, obviously looking for a translation online.)

Friend: “Americans are…” *muffled English word*

Me: “What?”

Friend: “Americans are bigger!”

(I burst out laughing but hold my tongue, hoping that she does not mean it that way. She finds another translation):

Friend: “High-energy.”