Should Have Vetted The Owners First

| Newport Beach, CA, USA | Right | December 27, 2013

(I’ve just graduated and I can’t find a job. My older brother is a veterinarian, and gets me a temp job at the animal clinic where he works. On my sixth day, when my brother has the day off, a client walks in with her dog. She cuts about eight people to the front.)

Client: “My dog is sick! I need to see the doctor!”

Me: “Okay. Do you have an appointment?”

Client: “H***, no! I thought walk-ins were welcomed.”

Me: “Yes. They are. Is this your first time here, or is your dog already in our system?”

Client: “Of course I’ve been here! You must be stupid because this is, like, my 100th time here. My name is [Client] and my dog is Puddles.”

Me: “And what seems to be the problem with Puddles?”

Client: “I just told you! Don’t you f****** listen? He is f****** sick!”

(By now everyone in the waiting room is looking at us. Feeling a bit embarrassed at being cussed at, I don’t ask her anymore questions. I hand her a form.)

Me: “All right. Just fill out this form and a doctor will be with you in about 20 to 30 minutes.”

Client: “What! Why can’t I see the doctor now?! My dog sick and he is going to die!”

(I look at the dog. He is wagging his tail and eating the free doggy treats we have out.)

Me: “I’m sorry. Since you don’t have an appointment, you’ll have to wait. We have about eight other walk-ins still waiting with their pets.”

Client: “Is Dr. [Brother] here? He’s the guy I always see. Just tell him I’m here.”

Me: “Uh, no. That particular doctor has the day off. You’ll have to wait for Dr. [Name]. She’s the only doctor in today.”

Client: “What?! I’m not going to wait in this f****** line! My dog is going to die and if he does I’m going to sue you for everything you got.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to wait like everyone else.”

Client: “Don’t you know who I am?”

Me: “Yes. You are [Client] and that is Puddles.”

Client: “You little b****! I am Dr. [Brother]’s girlfriend, which makes me like family. I get to see the doctor first, before any of these people.”

(I kind of giggle inside, because my brother is gay. He took the day off for his sixth year anniversary with his boyfriend.)

Me: “Oh. Are you a girl that is his friend or his romantic girlfriend?”

Client: “I’m his romantic girlfriend.”

Me: “Oh… But you’re still going to have to wait.”

Client: “Are you deaf or something? I told you I’m Dr. [Brother]’s girlfriend. You have to do what I say or I can have him fire you! You’re just jealous that I’m dating him and you’re too ugly for him to look at.”

Me: “Okay. First, Dr. [Brother] is my brother, so I don’t find him attractive in that sense at all. Second, my brother is GAY! He came out in college. So if you don’t have a wiener dog down there, I don’t think my brother would be very interested in you!”

Client: “You little c***! I’m his girlfriend and I’m going to tell him to fire you!”

Me: “If you’re his girlfriend, when is his birthday?”

Client: “I don’t have to tell you! You’re probably in love with him, you w****!”

(By now everyone is listening in on our conversation. There is a man in the walk-in line with a German Shepard. He comes up to the woman and tells her to back off and wait in line like everyone else.)

Client: “Who the h*** are you? You can’t tell me what to do? Who the f*** do you think you are?”

Man: “I am a sheriff’s deputy, ma’am. You’ve been harassing this woman for the past 10 minutes. She can file harassment charges on you and I will be her witness.”

Client: “F*** you all. I’m never coming back here ever again!”

(She came back the next day. My brother told her he will not be Puddles’ doctor anymore, and that, in fact, he is gay and not her boyfriend.)

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Trying To Put Her Stamp On Christmas

| England, UK | Right | December 26, 2013

(It is close to Christmas. We sell postage stamps, but as we are not a post office we only sell them in books.)

Customer: “Hi. I’ve got these Christmas cards to post. I need fourteen stamps, please.”

Me: “That’s fine. I have books of 6 first-class or 12 second-class.”

Customer: “14 second-class then, please.”

Me: “I’m sorry. We only sell second-class stamps in books of 12.”

Customer: “Yes. I need 14 stamps, please.”

Me: “Okay. So, 2 books of second-class stamps will be [amount].”

Customer: “What! That seems a lot of money for 14 stamps.”

Me: “No, madam. That is for 24 stamps. We only sell them in books of 12.”

Customer: “But I only want 14!”

Me: “We are not a post-office, madam. We only sell stamps in books of 6 first-class or 12 second-class. In order to get 14 stamps you will have to buy two books. Will you not be able to use the rest at a later date? If it’s a real problem there is a post office just around the corner which will be open in the morning.”

Customer: “No. I need 14 stamps”.

(This goes on for some time. She eventually twigs, and buys one book of 12 stamps. We saw her talking to a colleague of ours outside. It turns out she was setting off to walk three miles to drop off the other two cards so she didn’t need the postage! This was about three weeks before Christmas. Goodness knows why she couldn’t wait for the post office to open.)

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Too Rich For Jesus’ Blood

| Gulf Shores, AL, USA | Right | December 26, 2013

(It is late November, after Thanksgiving. I am working at the register closest to the Christmas stuff. Nearly everyone comes through with something for the holidays. A customer comes to my counter with a can of bug spray.)

Me: “Hello. Is this everything?”

Customer: “Yeah. I couldn’t find any d*** patio furniture because you moved all the f****** Christmas crap in! It’s getting earlier every year!”

(I decide not to point out that it’s almost December and instead try a different approach.)

Me: “Well, ma’am, I think they try to do that so the regular, working person can have a good Christmas. I mean, it costs a lot of money to buy the tree, the lights, and presents all at once. But if we get the stuff out early, people can buy a bit each week and have a pretty good spread by Christmas.”

Customer: “Ugh! If they can’t afford everything at once, they just shouldn’t celebrate! Poor people don’t deserve Christmas!”

(I am stunned as the customer grabs her item off the counter and stomps away. The next customer behind her dumps an entire pile of wrapping paper and bows on the counter.)

Next Customer: *loudly* “Yeah! Didn’t you know Jesus, the Savior of mankind, was born in a five-star hotel?”

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The Weather Outside Is Frightful And The Customer Is Not Delightful

| Lincoln, England, UK | Right | December 26, 2013

(I work as a telephonist and talk to huge volumes of customers each day. This particular day there has been a power cut which has knocked out the computer booking system and most of the traffic lights in town. To make things worse, the Christmas market in town is causing total gridlock. I receive a call from an angry caller.)

Caller: “I want to know where my taxi is. It was supposed to be here five minutes ago. This is totally unacceptable.”

Me: “I’m very sorry about the delay, madam. As you may know, there has been a power cut. Our driver has been stuck at an intersection. The traffic lights are down and the main flow of traffic isn’t letting the cross-flow through. This has caused a delay.”

Caller: “Why the h*** didn’t you compensate for this and dispatch it earlier?”

Me: “Once again, Madam, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to predict a power cut. Your car will be there within five minutes.”

Caller: “Well, that doesn’t help me. I’ll ask again. Why did you not take this into consideration and dispatch the car earlier?”

Me: “With all due respect, madam, I could ask you why you didn’t book it earlier if you knew there was going to be a power outage?”

Caller: “How the h*** was I supposed to know there would be a power cut?”

Me: “So you agree that these situations are unforeseen?”

Caller: “I don’t want excuses. I want my taxi. You should have prepared for this and dispatched it earlier. I want your name so I can complain about your attitude.”

Me: “Absolutely, madam. My name is [Name].”

Caller: “And who is your manager?”

Me: “That would be me. I can take your complaint about me now, if you’d like.”

(The caller hangs up. The driver arrives three minutes later and waits outside of her house for five minutes. He calls her phone and even knocks on the door but the customer doesn’t answer. Ten minutes later the caller rings back.)

Caller: “Where the h*** is my god-d*** taxi?!”

Me: “The taxi called for you, madam. Did you not receive a phone call?”

Caller: “Yes. What the h*** has that got to do with anything?”

Me: “That was our driver, letting you know he was outside. Did you hear a knock at the door?”

Caller: “Yes, but I didn’t answer because I was getting ready. Where the h*** is my cab?”

Me: “He has been given another job now, madam. He waited outside for five minutes, called, and knocked. In addition, I told you personally that he would be there within five minutes. Yet you were still getting ready when it arrived.”

Caller: “Well, you’d better get another f****** taxi here right now!”

Me: “I’m sorry, madam. Due to the high volume of bookings, the power cut, and the Christmas market, our next available booking slot is in two hours.”

Caller: *deafening stream of abuse*

Me: “Have a nice evening and Merry Christmas, madam!” *click*

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Kiss-mas Time

| Sydney, NSW, Australia | Right | December 26, 2013

(My grandmother has taken me to work. She buys a shirt before leaving. Before she goes she gives me a kiss goodbye. I start ringing up another customer.)

Me: “Okay, that’s $20.”

(The customer hands me the money and leans over counter with his lips puckered.)

Me: “Uh, sir? What are you doing?”

Customer: “The other lady got a kiss. I want one too!”

Me: “That was my grandmother.”

Customer: “So what? I’m good looking! KISS ME!”

(My boss walks over after seeing the whole thing.)

Boss: “You need to go.”

Customer: “Oh come on. Not even for Christmas?”

Boss: “LEAVE!”

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