(A customer comes in asking about a monitor. She needs convincing that it is brand new, and that we do not sell second hand.)

Customer: “Where do I adjust the brightness and contrast ?”

Me: “From the menu, like in a TV.”

(I bring up the menu on the screen to show her.)

Customer: “So, is that included in the price?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “The menu.”

Me: “Yes. The menu comes with the price.”

Related:
Not Remotely Intelligent, Part 5
Not Remotely Intelligent, Part 4
Not Remotely Intelligent, Part 3
Not Remotely Intelligent, Part 2
Not Remotely Intelligent

(A family group was checking in – one lady in the group started telling me about her husband’s recent death from cancer.)

Customer: “…and he was all eaten up with colon cancer, and he just died.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that is really not any of my business. It seems like a very private matter….”

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “I’m not comfortable hearing–”

Customer: “Are you a Christian?”

Me: “No, ma’am.”

Customer: “I knew it! You are evil and will burn in Hell. I’ll speak to your manager in the morning!”

Me: “Okay. That’s fine.”

Customer: “I hope you liked your former job.”

Me: “…”

(The group went to their rooms. A few minutes later, one of the adult daughters came to the desk.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer’s Daughter: “I just came down because I wanted to see what pure evil looks like.”

Me: “…”

(I’m a transporter pushing patients to surgery. I pick up a 17-year-old boy with his family. They’re all nervous, but the boy deals with his anxiety by being rude to his parents. He starts in on the vertical creases between his dad’s eyebrows.)

Boy: “Ha! That looks like a [crude term for female genitalia]. You’ve got a [kitty cat] on your forehead!”

(He goes on like this for several minutes as his profanity gets worse and worse.)

Mom: *finally* “Stop it! You’re embarrassing me and the transporter!”

Boy: *belligerent* “Why? She’s got one!”

(I’ve finally had enough. I lean down and tell him, loud enough for his parents to hear:)

Me: “You keep using language like that and that’s as close to a real one as you’ll ever get.”

(There was stunned silence from the entire family. Then the parents started cracking up.)

(We keep getting calls from the same telemarketers. We asked them to stop, but they keep calling.)

Dad: “Hello?”

Voice Message: “Please hold for an important message!”

(There is hold music, and then the telemarketer picks up.)

Dad: “Please hold for an important message!”

(He then started singing the entire ‘Jeopardy’ theme song.)

Telemarketer: *click*

I pull into a parking space at my local hardware store. When I get out of my truck, I notice that the car next to mine has the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked. I go straight to the service desk to let them know. They make an announcement:

Announcement: “Will the owner of a [vehicle] with [license plate] please return to your vehicle?”

Okay, good deed done. Time to get on with my day, right? Yeah, not so much. I get about three feet or so away when I see a woman run up to the counter, and the SCREECHING starts. Literally no warning or questioning, just straight into:

Customer: “What the f*** is your problem?! I can park anywhere I f****** want! Where is your manager, you b****?!”

It continues for a while, and I decide that if I can’t do a good deed for the day, I can at least have fun being a jerk.

I walk back out to the parking lot, and since I have a notepad with my shopping list and a pen to mark things off, I write this note.

Note: “I saw your keys in the ignition, and I was the one who had you paged so that your car wouldn’t be stolen. What I didn’t know was how horrible you are. The employees here do not deserve anything like what you did to them. Your keys are under your seat.”

I put the note under the windshield wiper, pulled her keys out of the ignition, and threw them under the seat, and just before I closed the door, I locked it. I moved my truck a few spots over, went back into the store, and finished my shopping. There was a locksmith vehicle on its way into the lot as I was leaving… for some reason.

Whether my response was appropriate or not, I’m not losing any sleep over it.

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