Sorry, The Teleporter’s On The Fritz Again

| Right | March 11, 2008

(A customer phones in to make a payment on their financing account.)

Me: “How may I help you?”

Customer: “I’d like to make a payment on my account.”

(I get the customer’s information and tell them how much their due payment is…)

Me: “And did you want to pay with Visa or Mastercard?”

Customer: “Cash.”

Me: “You have to come into the store to pay cash, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, I do?”

Me: “…”

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Personally, I Like Scarlet Flaming Capsicum Powder

, , | Right | March 11, 2008

(I work at a music store attempting to help customers find music they want and restocking the shelves. It’s almost time for my shift to end, at about 8PM at night when Old Rowdy Guy comes in. He walks straight to me.)

Old Rowdy Guy: “Yes, do you have them whatchamacallit… Crimson Hot Chili Spices?”

Me: “Yes sir, do you mean the Red Hot Chili Peppers?”

Old Rowdy Guy: “No, no, it’s another band. It’s got a song that goes doo dooo dah dee dooo.”

Me: “I don’t recognize the song, sir.”

Old Rowdy Guy: “What? It’s on the radio all the time!”

(He continues the song for a couple more seconds and a bell rings inside my head.)

Me: “Oh, you must mean Ill Crimson?”

Old Rowdy Guy: “NO!”

(Old Rowdy Guy starts storming around looking around the aisles of CD’s. He starts getting angry and frustrated and yells, “I’ve been everywhere!”)

Me: “Calm down sir, do you know any of the lyrics?”

Old Rowdy Guy: “No! I want to speak with your manager!”

(I call the manager over, he’s heard our “conversation.”)

Manager: “Is there a problem?”

Old Rowdy Guy: “He won’t help me find this band!”

Manager: “Do you know any of the lyrics of a song or the band’s name?”

Old Rowdy Guy: “Crimson Hot Chili Spices.”

Manager: “Red Hot Chili Peppers?”

Old Rowdy Guy: “YES THAT’S THE ONE! How does this employee not know them?”

Manager: “He did mention the band, sir.”

Old Rowdy Guy: “No he didn’t! Managers don’t argue with customers!” *customer storms out*

(We laughed about him for a while before closing up.)

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Time To Fire The Marketing Department

| Right | March 10, 2008

(I work at a large electronics retail chain, the largest in the world, that has very large lighted signs on the outside of their buildings, an easily recognizable color scheme, and million-dollar highly polished TV commercials.)

(I was standing near computer software, towards the BACK of the store, when a customer walked straight down the center aisle, passing all the other departments and products, and right up to me. He opened his mouth, paused for a second, and asked me:)

Customer: “What store is this?”

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Hissy Fits As Profit Centers

| Right | March 10, 2008

(I was working the morning shift at a local sandwich shop and accidently gave the wrong order to the wrong patron. I ran outside to trade the first customer and came back in and approached the second…)

Me: “Sorry sir, I gave your order to the wrong man. Would you like me to remake this for you?”

Customer: “You put s**t in my sandwich! I don’t want it back!”

Me: “Oh, no sir. I’m sorry. See I gave this to the wrong man and ran out to trade him. Like I said, I can remake this for you it will just take a minute.”

Customer: “NO. You put s**t in my sandwich, I don’t want YOU to make me another.”

Me: “Well okay, sir. If you meet me at my register I will be more than happy to refund your money.”

Customer: “Listen here you little b***h, you put s**t in my f*****g sandwich! I can’t believe your manager doesn’t fire you!”

(This whole time my manager stand there laughing, doing nothing to help.)

Me: “What can I do to make this experience better for you? I can make a new sandwich or give you your money back.”

Customer: “F**K YOU!”

(He then storms away and leaves sandwich/money free. As he’s leaving I yell…)

Me: “Thanks for breakfast!”

 

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Fax Me A Pizza While You’re At It

, , | Right | March 10, 2008

(After customer made copies of several $100 dollar bills on a self-serve copier.)

Customer: “I need to send this money.”

Me: “Err–what did you need to do?”

Customer: “I need to send this money to my son. What’s it called? Fax it!”

Me: “…I’ll ring you up for these copies. There’s a Western Union next door.”

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