Uncouth Bluetooth

| | Right | September 4, 2009

(A cellphone customer walks up to my counter with a suspicious look on her face.)

Customer: “Listen…you’ve got to help me! It’s my neighbors, they’re spying on me!”

Me: “I’ll be glad to assist you in any way I can, ma’am. Is this related to your cell phone in some way…?”

Customer: “Yes! They’re spying on me in my shower, with… bluetooths! And the camera on my phone!”

(I glance at her phone, noting that it is neither bluetooth-capable or a camera phone.)

Me: “Well, your phone lacks both of those capabilities, so I don’t think you need to worry.”

Customer: “BUT THEY ARE! THEY STOLE THE PICTURES FROM MY PHONE AND PUT THEM ON THE INTERNET!”

Me: “Have you tried calling the police about this?”

Customer: “You’re in on it, too, aren’t you?!” *grabs her things and scurries off*

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*Sigh*, They Grow Up So Slow…

, , | | Right | September 3, 2009

(A customer slams open the door to our indoor paintball field and storms in, shouting.)

Customer: “Where’s the manager?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m the owner. What is the problem?”

Customer: “I saw on your web site that you require a parental consent for kids to play at your field. Well, I never signed one, and my son said he’d been playing paintball here. He has bumps and bruises all over him, and I NEVER signed a consent form!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. He must have forged your name or had another adult sign for him. What’s his name? I’ll find the consent form.”

Customer: “His name is [Son].”

(I find his form and show it to her.)

Me: “Is this your son’s form?”

Customer: “Yes! See, I never signed it!”

Me: “Ma’am, your son is 27 years old. Only children are required to have a parent’s signature to play.”

Customer: “But he is a child! He’s my child!”

Me: “I’m sorry, let me rephrase that. Only children under the age of 18 need to have a parent’s signature to play. Since your son is 27, he can sign for himself that he understands all of the risks involved.”

Customer: “This is insane! He could get his eye shot out, or be knocked out, or killed! This is illegal! I’m calling the police!”

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Identity Crisis

| | Right | September 3, 2009

Customer: “Hi, I want 20 Marlboros.”

Me: “Do you have any ID at all?”

(The customer lifts his right sleeve on his t-shirt to reveal a tattoo of a date.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t accept that.”

Customer: “Why not? That’s my f***ing date of birth! You think I’d just get some random date done on my arm?”

Me: “We need photo ID, sir, like a driver’s license or a passport.”

(The customer points at his face.)

Me: “Umm…”

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Home Improvement, P.I.

| | Right | September 3, 2009

Me: “Hello, can I help you with anything?”

Customer: “I need a garage door.”

Me: “Okay, our garage doors are back in the millwork department.”

Customer: “No! I don’t need a garage door.”

Me: “Alright…what is it that you need?”

Customer: “I need a garage door!”

Me: “All of our garage door stuff is back in millwork.”

Customer: “But I don’t want a garage door!”

Me: “Is this a door inside your garage?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, all of our doors are going to be back in millwork as well.”

Customer: “BUT I DON’T NEED A GARAGE DOOR!”

Me: “Well, then what is it that you are looking for?”

Customer: “I need a garage door.”

(Hearing the commotion, a coworker shows up.)

Coworker: “Ma’am, what does this item do that you are looking for?”

Customer: “It does this…” *makes a slow opening motion with hand*

Me: “So is it on the door inside your garage?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, what does it do?”

Customer: “It does this…” *makes same hand motion*

Coworker: “What exactly does this do?”

Customer: “It keeps the wind out.”

Me: “Okay…is it weather stripping?”

Customer: “No.”

Coworker: “Does it keep the door shut?”

Customer: “Yes. I think it’s a spring!”

(Mystery solved!)

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Cash For Baby Bumpers

| | Right | September 3, 2009

(I hear glass shattering from the back of the store, near the wine department. As I head to the source of the sound, I hear a second shatter and see a small child in a cart reaching for a third wine bottle to pull off the rack. There’s no sign of a parent around.)

Me: “Stop that!”

(I grab the cart and pull it away from the wine racks. Suddenly, the absent parent shows up.)

Customer: “How dare you touch that cart! My child is in that cart! How dare you touch my child without my permission!”

Me: “Ma’am, your child has broken 2 bottles of wine and was about to break a third bottle. I just saved you another $12.99.”

Customer: “Saved me? You’re the one trying to kidnap my child!”

Me: “Ma’am, you already owe me $26 for what happened when you were not watching your own child.”

Customer: “If you’re going to charge me money for bringing my child into the store, I should just let you take him!”

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