Sue Happy

, , | Right | January 10, 2008

Customer: “Yes, I’m calling to complain. Your store has false advertising. You say you have the cheapest [item] prices in town, and I just came from a store that is selling them cheaper.”

Me: “Really? Well let me call, and you can call back in five minutes, okay?”

(I call the store and soon she calls back.)

Customer: “Well?”

Me: “You are correct, We sell for $5.00 and they’re selling for $4.81.”

Customer: “Like I said, false advertisement. I could sue.”

Me: “It’s a $0.19 difference.”

Customer: “With four of those, that would be a dollar!”

Me: “Correction, that would be $0.76. Would you like to sue me for that complete bill or should be round it up to a whole dollar?”

Customer: “I will never shop with you again!”

Me: “There will never be a need.”

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Oh, Bite Me

, , | Right | August 19, 2008

Me: “Welcome to [Bank]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I need to check my balance on my account.”

Me: “Okay, sir. Can I get your customer number?”

Customer: *gives number*

Me: “Okay, sir. You have a balance of $513.26, and we need to get $360.00 of this paid off immediately to avoid referral to debt collection.”

Customer: “Screw you. I’m no over-stayer. Unlock my d*** account!”

Me: “Sir, we can’t unlock the account until we’ve received some form of payment.”

Customer: “F*** you, man. I’m going to call your head office and have you deported.”

Me: “Um, I was born in this country, so I can’t really be deported to another country. This still won’t get your account unlocked. If you can pay–”

Customer: “Get the f***ing account turned on or I’m coming around there, and I’m going to eat you!”

Me: “Eat… me?”

Customer: “D*** right! I’m going to have you eaten and deported. We’re going to claim back our land and eat all you b**tards, then have you kicked out of the country!”

Me: “Please pay your bill. I’m terminating this call.” *click*

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Way South Of Average Intelligence

| Right | February 10, 2014

(I am a light-skinned South African living in the United States. I occasionally get to perform my own music in a local hip-hop-oriented bar. I try to keep my lyrics clean of profanities, which is unusual for this audience.)

Bar Patron #1: “It’s nice to hear some clean hip-hop here for a change.”

Me: “Thanks. I just don’t see the need for me to swear, since most of my songs are about partying and that sort of light stuff.”

Bar Patron #2: “Usually with the people who perform here, it’s ‘n-word this’, and ‘n-word that’.”

Me: *laughing* “Can you imagine, a white South African using that word a whole bunch of times?”

Bar Patron #2: “I know you could do that if you wanted to since your country is run by African-Americans and all, but it’s nice that you don’t.”

Me: “… Oh boy.”


This story is part of our Juneteenth roundup!

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Barry Burnin’ White

, , | Right | April 28, 2009

Caller: “Hello. I work offshore. I got home from a three-week assignment yesterday, and the wife and I were doing the… you know… We were being… uhh…”

Me: “…intimate?”

Caller: “Nah. It was pretty rough. But anyhow, we were doing our thing.”

(At this point, I’m pretty sure the caller is actually a buddy of mine, pranking me. I am wrong.)

Me: “Sir, this is a stereo repair shop. Are you aware–”

Caller: “Yeah, yeah, sorry. That’s not the point. When we got done, I noticed the music had stopped. I looked over there, and there were fumes coming off the receiver. So, I called your customer service number and they told me I need to write a description of the problem. I don’t know what happened, so I figured I’d call a tech guy to help me with the description. You got any idea what I should write?”

Me: “Well, uhh… how about ‘smokes after sex’?”

Caller: *laughing* “DONE! I like yer style, my friend!”

(That call totally made my day. I almost got fired over it, but it was worth it!)

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Mother Mellows Best

| Right | August 6, 2012

(My coworker and I are the only ones on duty at a gas station. We work at a full service gas station, and as it’s July, we’re very busy. I’m outside filling vehicles, while my coworker is inside ringing customers up. Note that I’m kind of timid, while my coworker is kind of hot headed, and we’re both female. A man in his late forties pulls up in his big pickup truck.)

Me: “Sir? Can I get you to pull ahead a bit and park a little closer to the pump? There are some customers who can’t reach the pump behind you, and you’re too close to the store. They can’t go around you.”

(The customer doesn’t even look at me and stalks off towards the store.)

Male Customer: “Fill it. Make d*** sure that you wash the windshield, too!”

(I begin to do my job. A line is forming behind the truck, and customers are asking me what’s the hold up. I have to explain to them about the customer, and I apologize profusely. Finally, the truck is filled, and I go in to tell my coworker the price.)

Me: “That’ll be [price].”

(The man has been standing in line for some time, refusing to let others in front of him while he waits for the price. The store is packed and hot, and the other customers look uncomfortable.)

Male Customer: “I’d like to pay with my [chain] points card, but I don’t know how many points are on it. Check it.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, but we have no way of telling you how many points are on your card. The best I can do for you is to run the card and if it comes up short, charge you that extra.”

Male Customer: “What?! I make sure I stop at every [chain] station that I can to collect these d*** points! I will not pay for the gas with my own money! Just run the card through one of your machines and tell me how many d*** points I have!”

Coworker: “Sir, like I told you before, we don’t have any machines that can check your points. If you want to use your card, you can, but if it comes up short I’ll have to charge you the extra.”

(This goes on for a little while, and my coworker begins to get irate, though she keeps her cool. More customers come in and I try and help others at the second till, but then the man starts yelling at me. I ignore him and try to swipe a customer’s credit card, but the man grabs the card reader from my hand and jams his points card in. The look of shock and hurt on my face must have been apparent, because another customer, a woman maybe a bit older than the man, steps in.)

Female Customer: *to the male customer* “WHAT THE F*** DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? You’ve got a room full of people AND a bunch of cars outside waiting for you to get your a** out of the way and get out of here! You’ve been rude to these girls who have been nothing but polite to you, and now you’re starting to piss me off! And I’m sure I’m not the only one!”

(The other customers nod and murmur their agreement.)

Male Customer: “B****, I didn’t ask for your thoughts. Get back to your kitchen and your whining grandchildren!”

Female Customer: “Is that how you would speak to your mother? Really, didn’t your mother teach you better?”

(Suddenly, the troublesome customer doesn’t seem to be so angry. He actually looks a little bit scared at the mention of his mother. He begins stuttering and cussing her out, but the fire in him is gone. The lady fixes him the coldest stare I’ve ever seen, and then the customer flings two fifties at my coworker and begins elbowing his way through the sea of people and out of the store. The customers begin applauding and insist the heroine go to the front of the line. She’s only getting two Vitamin Waters and a bag of chips, and since the troublesome customer has given us much more than he needed, my coworker and I pay for her with the change.)

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