(It is 2004, and the movie ‘The Passion  Of The Christ’ has just come out.)

Customer #1: “Oooh, I’ve heard great things about The Passion of the Christ.”

Customer #2: “Yeah, it really reaffirms your faith in Christ.”

Me: “It’s been a big hit this week; Mel Gibson tried to make it as historically accurate as possible.” *cough* “Even all the dialog is in Aramaic.”

Customer #1: “Wait what?!”

Me: “It’s in Aramaic, the language which they spoke back then.”

Customer #1: “You mean it has subtitles?! It’s not in English?! Ugh, I’m not gonna watch that!”

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(It’s about closing time, and I’m doing the final stock of the tobacco stuff, while a police officer, there because of problems with theft of in-store merchandise, writes out his nightly report. In walks a very short person, obviously under 19, whiter than Casper, and dressed like a pimp.)

Short Pimp: “Packa Players!”

Me: “ID?”

SP: “What?”

Me: “I need to see your ID, or you can’t have ’em.”

SP: “You don’t need my ID! I’m 21!” *starts cussing*

Me: “Yes, but we have to ask if you look under 40, so hand it over.”

SP: “Well, you’re giving me the smokes anyway, and for free now because of the way you’re treating me.”

Me: “Uh-huh, and I’m Bill Gates.”

SP: “Fine! Here’s my f****** ID!” *hands over an obviously fake ID*

Me: “Okay, do you have a real ID?”

SP: “That is real, a**hole!”

Me: “Dude, no it isn’t. If you’re gonna use a fake ID, get someone who can at least spell Ontario.”

SP: “FINE! I’ll just shoot you and take what I want!

(Short Pimp sticks his hand in his pocket and pretends that there’s a gun in there.)

Me: “Right, because a cop totally isn’t standing right behind you with his very real gun at the back of your head.”

(Officer Cool Guy has gotten up and pulled his “very real gun” [read: just his nightstick, but held like a gun] on Short Pimp, but SP doesn’t know that.)

SP: “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”

Me: “Next time, try [Competing Gas Station], and don’t come back.”

(Once SP left, Officer Cool Guy and I tried very hard not to burst out laughing.)

Me: “Hey, my name is [My Name]; what can I do for you?”

Old Man: “My great-grandson was telling me about this really neat thing on his computer. I would like to buy it.”

Me: “So your nephew has this ‘thing’… what does it do?”

Old Man: “Well, he was showing me videos and we played a few puzzles. I was also able to check my lottery numbers.”

Me: “Oh, the Internet… You’re just looking to hook up the Internet in your house?”

Old Man: “Yes, I would like to buy the Internet.”

Me: “Um, well, you don’t purchase the actual Internet. It’s kinda like paying your phone bill. You pay them and they give you phone services.”

Old Man: “I know how a telephone works! Would you like to make some commission on this Internet sale or should I take my business elsewhere?”

Me: “Sir, I don’t think you understand. You need to call [list of providers], and they will come to hook up your Internet. It’s not a physical thing.”

Old Man: “I am writing to the Better Business Bureau and reporting this incident to your manager. I know what the internet is; Walmart has it! I’m going to take my purchase to them!”

Retail:
He Wants The Google
She Uses The Google

(It is about five minutes to closing on a Saturday night and we have maybe five or six employees working, all female. A new bar has just opened next door, and a drunk man wanders in.)

Drunk Man: “I need to buy some matches.”

Me: “I’m sorry sir. We don’t sell matches, only clothes.”

Drunk Man: “Well, then sell me a lighter. I need a cigarette.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t sell lighters or matches, just clothes.”

Drunk Man: “D*** it, just give me one.”

Me: “I don’t have one, sir, or trust me, I would.”

Drunk Man: “You lying b****! Give me a f****** match you b****!”

Me: “Sir, you need to leave, or I’m calling the police. We don’t have lighters or matches. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Drunk Man: “I’ll get it myself!”

(He storms off toward the men’s department. I call my coworker in that department, then call the manager to give them a heads up. A few minutes later, the man goes running out, empty-handed, and my coworker is racing after him. She grabs my phone and starts screaming over the intercom for our manager. I asked her what happened.)

Coworker: “He pissed all over the Levis!”

Customer: “I’m trying to add an FTP user, and I can’t figure out what to do.”

Me: “All right, sir. I see that this is on a server for which you declined a support contract. All I can do is direct you to the help center article that will instruct you how to do this; I can’t add it for you or walk you through it.”

Customer: “Look, all I’m trying to do is add an FTP user.”

Me: “Sir, when you purchased this server we offered a support contract, which you declined–”

Customer: “I just want to add an FTP user! You should be able to do that for me!”

Me: “–and when you declined the support contract, you had to click on a button to accept full responsibility for managing your server.”

Customer: “This isn’t a server management issue. I’m just trying to add an FTP user.”

Me: “Sir, true or false? You purchased this server from us.”

Customer: “True.”

Me: “You declined the support contract, true or false?”

Customer: “True.”

Me: “And you accepted full responsibility for managing the server, true or false?”

Customer: “True.”

Me: “…so, why are you asking me?”

Customer: “…” *click*