(I walk in the doors to clock in for my shift.)

Coworker: “So glad you’re here now. A customer asked me a question about a computer that I couldn’t answer, and I told him you’d be in shortly.”

(I clock in and find the customer, a middle-aged male.)

Me: “Hi there. I was told you had a question.”

Customer: “Yeah, this [Brand] Satellite laptop — does this mean it can connect with the satellite for Internet access?”

Me: “At this price—” *something like $299* “—definitely not. Just the hardware it would need to do that would make the laptop much more than that price.”

Customer: “Then why would it have ‘Satellite’ on it?”

Me: “It’s just a brand model name; I couldn’t tell you why [Brand] decided on that model name, just like I couldn’t tell you how Chevy, Ford, and Toyota come up with the model names for their vehicles.”

(The customer gives me a deer-in-headlights look, then thanks me and walks away.)

Me: *to coworker* “You seriously needed me to answer that question?”

(I work at an athletic ticket office. We close at 5:00 pm. It’s 4:55 pm now.)

Customer: *on phone* “Hi. Are you open?”

Me: “Yes… but we close at five.”

Customer: “Oh, good. Well, I was wondering what tickets you have [for every event]…”

(After fifteen minutes.)

Customer: “Okay… Well, I’ll have to check with some people to see if they want to come, and I’ll give you a call back.”

(I work at fast food restaurant which is known to not only make food only when you order it, but also has tacos that people absolutely love, served among the burgers and other items. It’s Black Friday, and the location I’m at is directly across from a popular national box store, so we’ve been pretty swamped. To make matters worse, we’ve run out of those precious tacos until our delivery arrives. People have not been kind about the lack of tacos, at all. We have a monster-sized taco, about the size of two and a quarter or so of the regular tacos, but it is more expensive. The lunch rush has just started to die down when a couple comes in and makes their order. Of course the husband wants tacos, and I’m dreading telling him.)

Me: “I’m sorry to let you know… we’re out of the tacos until the truck arrives in about two hours. We don’t have any until then.”

(I’m bracing for the tirade I’ve heard for the previous two hours straight.)

Customer: “Oh, well… D***. Do, uh… do you happen to have those big tacos?”

Me: “Uh… ye… yeah! We still have those!”

Customer: “OKAY! I’ll do one of those.” *turns to his wife* “Cutie, serious, they’re like… this big. The size of your freaking face. They’re pretty much two tacos in one freaking taco!”

(His wife chuckles and rolls her eyes.)

Customer: “What can you do? It’s Black Friday and those tacos are disgustingly addictive. At least you have the big ones.”

(This has actually put me in a much better mood, so I stutter a thank-you and adjust the price down to what two tacos would normally be.)

Customer’s Wife: “Oh, you didn’t need to do that. It’s fine if it’s a bit more.”

Me: “No, it’s okay. Like he said, it’s basically two tacos in one, anyway. You have a great day!”

Both: “Thank you so much; Merry Christmas!”

Customer: “…even though it’s still a bit early to say it!”

(Thank you. Both of you. Thank you for being understanding and giving me a boost when I needed it the most! The truck even arrived a little early, and I suggested the big tacos to everyone right away when people asked for the two regular tacos… and they were all very understanding, too. Thank you for giving me that idea through your act of understanding, as well.)

Me:  “Hi. Thank you for calling [Bookstore]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi. There was a book in the New York Times that I’d like to get.”

Me: “Okay. Do you know the title, or what it’s about?”

Customer: “No, but it was a full-page ad in the newspaper.”

Me: “Okay, give me one second.”

(I go and scan through the “Times” to find anything to go off of.)

Me: “Okay, I didn’t see anything. Are you sure it was the Times? I checked today’s paper and there weren’t any full-page ads like that.”

Customer: “Today’s paper? No, this was weeks ago. Do you know the book?”

Me: *pause* “We don’t have it.”

(I work as a manager at a local branch of a common fast food restaurant. All locations in the US have the same items, prepared the same way. We have never accepted and are not equipped for delivery or over-the-phone orders. I’m in the office, counting down a register, when the phone rings.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant]. [My Name] speaking. How can I help you?”

Caller: *with a noticeable Indian accent* “Hello. I’d like to place an order for pickup.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t accept orders for pickup. You have to be in our store to order.”

Caller: “Oh, then, can I ask questions about your food?”

Me: “Of course. Go right ahead.”

Caller: “Do you sell burgers?”

(I am silent for a second, as our restaurant has the word “burger” in the name.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am, we do.”

Caller: “How big are your burgers?”

(This is a fairly common question, but since most customers are in the store when they ask, I usually give them an estimate with my hands.)

Me: “I don’t know the dimensions off the top of my head, but I can look them up for you.”

Caller: “Are they as big as the ones in India?”

Me: “I’ve never been to India, ma’am. I don’t know. If you give me a second, I can look it up for you.”

Caller: “Are your burgers made from cow?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Most of them.”

Caller: “That’s horrible! How dare you use cow in your burgers?! Those poor cows! In India all our burgers are made with vegetables!”

Me: *taken aback* “We do have a veggie burger, ma’am. And a chicken burger.”

Caller: “You have a veggie burger and a chicken burger? What about goat?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Caller: “Do you have a goat burger?”

Me: “No, ma’am. We don’t have a goat burger.”

Caller: “You don’t have a goat burger?! How could you not have a goat burger?! I’m going to take my business somewhere else!” *hangs up*