(I work for a call centre affiliated with a car manufacturer. I’ve been speaking with a private dealer about an issue with a secondhand vehicle she bought.)
Me: “All right, let me just take some details down and we can process your claim.”
Dealer: “Sorry, can you hold for just a moment? One of our regulars has just come in; he’s a bit of a handful.”
Me: “Sure, no worries. A handful?”
Dealer: “Well, he thinks he’s Russell Crowe…”
Me: “Seriously?”
Dealer: “Yes, he’s utterly convinced of it. He cruises around in a black Mercedes with custom plates which read ‘CROWE.’ I’ll just be a minute, sorry.”
(The call ended while I was on hold. I can only hope Mr. Crowe didn’t try to do an impromptu rendition of “Gladiator” in the foyer or something.)
(I work in the call center of a credit card company.)
Caller: “I didn’t want to be signed up for four years!”
Me: “The representative wrote 48 months on the contract whilst you were present, correct?”
Caller: “Well… yes, but I thought 48 months was two years.”
Me: “So, you read the contract, signed it, and now you want to get out of it because you made a mistake.”
Caller: “No, I just signed. I don’t want to read.”
Me: “You do realize that our contract is a legally binding contract and hence should be read thoroughly.”
Caller: “And?”
Related:
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 89
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 88
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 87
(I work in a hotel.)
Guest: “Can I store some things in your freezer?”
Me: “We do have some space, not a lot, but we can fit a few things.”
(We don’t even have a real kitchen since we only do a continental breakfast.)
Guest: “Can you fit twenty pounds of seafood in there?”
Me: “Twenty pounds?! I’m sorry but we don’t have that much room.”
Guest: “Oh, oh, well. It’ll just have to stay in the cooler with the dry ice.”
(I still am not sure why he was traveling from Wisconsin to Washington State with twenty pounds of frozen seafood in his pickup but I really didn’t want to ask.)
(The order is three crunchy tacos, extra cheese. Admittedly, we are told to put the smallest amount of cheese possible on the taco at any time, and extra cheese basically just means double of almost nothing, but I’m a nice guy, so I put a good amount on there — more than my managers would like. I wrap up the tacos and put them in the bag, go up to the counter, and hand it out. The woman is standing right there at the front, staring at me.)
Customer: “Can I get some extra cheese?”
Me: “I put it on the tacos for you already.”
Customer: “No, you didn’t. I was watching you. There’s barely any cheese on them. I paid for extra.”
Me: *smile froze on my face* “I put the extra cheese on the tacos already. I’m sorry if you couldn’t see that from there.”
Customer: *sighs and says, like she’s doing me a favor* “Fine, can I just have some extra cheese on the side?”
Me: “Sure.” *smiled wider* “If you’ll just go over the registers, one side of extra cheese is thirty cents.”
(She swore at me and left.)
(This is an email conversation:)
Customer: “I keep getting all these emails from you about different pricing and rock-bottom pricing deals and how you want to give me stuff. Tell me more about this.”
Me: “I’m sorry, but I cannot find a [Customer] in our database, nor can I find an account attached to [email provided]. Under what name, email address, and physical address is your account listed?”
Customer: “I have no idea. Just answer my questions.”
Me: “If you have ‘no idea’ what name the account is under, or what email address or physical address, I cannot assist you, I’m sorry. Your first email could be referring to a number of things we’re offering. Please clarify the account information and I’d be glad to assist you.”
Customer: “Forget about the sale, then.”
(If you have no idea who you are, how I am I supposed to know who you are?)
