This is a story from a friend. She had moved from New York to Los Angeles, and although she had driven her car there, she had not been out of the LA Basin since. Consider her a California newbie.

Our hero was an Apple Mac influencer, before the term influencer was coined. She did talks, shows, consulting, etc. (Note, she was not a nasty entitled influencer, just trying to freelance a living.)

She gets a call offering a free ticket to MacWorld in San Jose, and an offer to couch surf while there. So, after throwing her stuff in a bag, she charges down to the parking garage, puts her bag in the car, and realizes that she has no idea whatsoever where she is going. She doesn’t even know how to get out of the LA Basin.

So she goes up to the security guard in the garage and totally innocently asks:

Friend: “Do you know the way to San Jose?”

I work as a receptionist at a chiropractic office, and part of my job is to show patients into empty rooms. I’ve just cleared out one room for a patient and am taking the next one in. The patient who just left used perhaps a bit too much perfume, but overall, not an unpleasant amount. The one coming in is drenched in stale cigarette smoke.

Patient: “WOW! Think she used a little too much perfume there?”

Me: *Trying not to gag on the lingering cigarette smoke.* “Well….it’s more pleasant than some of the smells we get in here…”

I used to work in a major hi-fi retailer in TV/stereo sales. I had an older customer come in with her daughter and buy a cheap TV/DVD player combo. She haggled as hard as she could, and just to get rid of her, I gave her a really sweet deal, probably made about $3 commission off the item. 

She then proceeded to harass other staff members and me for months:

Customer: “The DVD player is scratching my DVDs!”

Customer: “This thing you sold me is trash! Come and replace it!”

Customer: “I want a brand-new TV!”

We would always tell her the same thing:

Me: “Madam, you will need to bring in the TV yourself so that we can check it for any issues.”

She eventually brought in a few DVDs as “proof” and it was clear as day she had scratched them herself (really brutal scratches). After much deliberation:

Me: “Madam, we will replace the TV, but on one condition: I will go to your house and install it for you.”

This is a service we provided back then, but we didn’t do it too often.

She agreed, and I took a replacement TV to her house. It was like something out of a horror movie. She had the worst house on a nice street; it was filled with rubbish and stuffed animals. I felt like, this is it, she’s gonna murder me. I got it installed sooooo fast, but I did confirm that it wasn’t scratching any DVDs.

A month later, I transferred stores, and thankfully, a mate of mine took my place, so when she came back in looking for me, he told her I’d quit and didn’t work for the company anymore. She then demanded my phone number.

That was sooooo long ago, and I still get the ick thinking about it.

It is the late aughts, and I’m working in a convenience store in a college town. We sell a variety of cigarettes, rolling papers, and a couple of selections of cigars, namely Game cigars in green or blue flavors, and Dutch Masters cigars in honey or grape. I don’t smoke, but I’m used to people coming up and asking for the cigars either by brand and offering them a flavor to choose from, or asking by flavor and then the brand name.

A young woman comes up to the counter.

Customer: *In a stereotypical “valley girl” voice.* “Can I have a greengamehoneydutch?”

Me: “Uh… you want…”

Customer: “I want a greengamehoneydutch.”

Me: “We… there’s… I mean, we have the Game brand in the green flavor. And then we have honey flavor Dutch Masters brand…”

Customer: “Look, I just want a greengamehoneydutch.”

Me: *Picking up one of each brand/flavor in each hand.* “This is a green Game. This is a honey Dutch Masters. Which one did you want?”

Customer: “No, I just want one.”

Me: “Okay, so did you want… the green Game?”

Customer: *Sighing.* “Is there someone else who knows about cigars?”

Me: *Helplessly looking at all my coworkers frantically making sandwiches during the lunch rush.* “Not at the moment…”

She finally buys a honey Dutch Masters and leaves.

Coworker: “Next time, just grab whichever one and give it to them when it’s obvious they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Related:
Not Even Close And No Cigar, Part 2
Not Even Close And No Cigar

Caller: “I think my grandson has been making withdrawals from my account.”

Me: “I can see several cash withdrawals from ATMs over the last few days.”

Caller: “Yes, it’s him. The first one is legitimate; I gave him my card and asked him to withdraw some cash for me, but he hasn’t been back since then.”

Me: “Ma’am, for him to have done that, he would need to know your PIN. Did you tell him your PIN?”

Caller: “Of course I did! How else would he have been able to get the cash?”

Me: “Ma’am, we inform all of our customers that your PIN is not to be shared with anyone, even close family. That prevents this kind of thing from happening. Would you like us to raise a fraud report so that you can link it to the police report?”

Caller: “What police report?”

Me: “Well, I assume you’ll be calling the police since you admit your grandson is stealing from you.”

Caller: “Of course not! He’s my grandson!”

Me: “Well then, all we can do is cancel your card and send you a new PIN.”

Caller: “No, I don’t want a new PIN. I’ll forget it. I always just make it the year I was born.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can see your date of birth in your files. You’ve effectively now just informed me of your PIN.”

Caller: “Oh. Well, anyway, can I get my money back?”

Me: “We can’t make your grandson give back the money.”

Caller: “Don’t you have some kind of fraud protection insurance thing?!”

Me: “We do, but our fraud protection only works if you meet certain criteria. We cover it if it’s an error on our side, and sharing your PIN with everybody is… not one of those.”

Caller: “So what can you do?!”

Me: “I’ve already canceled your card and sent out a new one with a new PIN. Please don’t share it with anyone else.”

Caller: “I’ll just change it back to 1949 again since I can’t remember anything else. Well, you’ve been no help at all!” *Click.*

Related:
PIN-Headed, Part 33
PIN-Headed, Part 32
PIN-Headed, Part 31
PIN-Headed, Part 30
PIN-Headed, Part 29