Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “I’d like to return a set of CDs. They don’t work.”

Me: “Well, I can only offer you an exchange on a defective CD. Tell you what, let me take a look at it and we’ll figure out what’s wrong.”

(The customer puts a box set of a very popular audiobook on the counter. I have a hard time believing every single CD in the set is defective.)

Me: “So tell me; what happened when you tried to play the CDs?”

Customer: “I bought the CDs so I could listen to them on my portable CD player while I jog, but every time I put a CD in and hit play, nothing happens. The CDs are obviously broken.”

Me: “I don’t suppose you’d happen to have your CD player with you, do you?”

(The customer pulls out the oldest-looking CD player I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s gigantic, has big chunky buttons, and practically screams ‘late 1990’s.’)

Me: “Oh, that explains a lot. I think I see the problem. See here on the CD cases? It reads, “Mp3 on CD.” That means that the tracks on this CD are in .mp3 format, like what you’d play on an iPod. Your CD player was probably made before mp3s were around. That’s why you can’t play the CDs on this player.”

(The customer looks terrified.)

Customer: “I don’t understand you!”

Me: “Well, it just means that your CD player is too old to recognize the format that the data on those CDs is in.”

Customer: “I don’t understand what you’re saying! I’m no good with technical stuff!”

Me: “Um… it’s just the form that the information on the CDs is in. It’s called an mp3. Your CD player came out before mp3s did, so it doesn’t know how to read the information.”

Customer: “That’s not what it says on the box, though!”

Me: “Yes it is. It says so right there in big letters: ‘Mp3 on CD.'”

Customer: “It says ‘Mp3 OR CD!'”

Me: That’s an ‘N.’ It says ‘on.’ It means that the information on those CDs is in mp3 format.”

Customer: *squinting at the box* “Oh, really? Well, then, I’d like a refund, since I can’t play these CDs.”

Me: “I’m sorry. It’s illegal to return opened CDs in this state. The only thing I can do is exchange it for the exact same item if it’s defective, which it isn’t.”

Customer: “But how am I supposed to play these CDs?!”

Me: “Do you have a computer?”

Customer: “Yeah, but I don’t know how it works! I’m no good with technical stuff!”

Me: “You could try ripping those CDs to your computer and playing them through iTunes or Windows Media Player.”

(The customer stares at me as though I’d suddenly started speaking in tongues.)

Me: “Sorry. I meant, you could put the CD into the disc drive of the computer and listen to it that way.”

Customer: “I. DON’T. KNOW. WHAT. YOU’RE. SAYING.”

Me: “Do you have anyone else at home who could help you use the computer?”

Customer: “I DON’T KNOW HOW TO USE THE COMPUTER! I’M NO GOOD WITH TECHNICAL STUFF!”

Me: “I just meant that maybe someone else could help you get the information off the CDs so you could listen to them. It’s the best solution, since you can’t return them.”

Customer: “No, no, no, no! I’m no good with technical stuff! I don’t understand you at all! This is so confusing!”

Me: “There’s really nothing else I can do for you, then. I’m sorry.”

Customer: *sighs, scoops up her CDs, and walks to the door muttering* “I don’t understand computers at all. This is so confusing. I don’t understand!”

(I answer the phone.)

Customer: “I just bought Grand theft Auto V on Playstation 3. Does anyone there play it?”

Me: “I think a few of the guys have—”

Customer: “I need to speak to them, NOW!”

Me: “Unfortunately they’re all with customers at the moment. Could I possibly help?”

Customer: “Yeah, how the f*** do you beat the first mission?!”

Me: “Sir, I think that sort of question would be better suited to some sort of online gaming forum?”

Customer: “F*** YOU! I’M CALLING CONSUMER AFFAIRS!”

(I work in a very well known college’s credit union. I am working the front desk with one of my coworkers when a younger looking man walks in.)

Me: “Hello, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I was wondering what this place is?”

Me: *confused* “This is the [College] credit union.”

Customer: “Oh, that explains why everyone coming out of here looks so depressed.”

(The customer left without another word leaving me and my coworker laughing and wondering what just happened.)

(I work in a store with four departments, each with their own checkout counter. A woman approaches my counter and asks to make a payment on a layby. I ask if there is anything else she needs. I have a funny feeling about her.)

Customer: “No, just this. I’ll be leaving now.”

(I watch her leave, then get to a point and turn into a tight aisle of fabric which is better accessed from the other side. I walk up to her.)

Me: “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Customer: *eyes wide with shock* “I, umm, oh, I don’t know what it is… I haven’t touched it.” *quickly leaves*

(I look down to find a ladies wallet in the rolls of fabric. I take it to my counter and page for the owner a couple of times. I then get stuck serving customers for 10 minutes before I take it over to the office. I pass by the fabric counter as I do.)

Me: *to a coworker* “Is there anyone in the office? I have found a wallet.”

Coworker: “Where did you find that? We’ve been looking for it. I was serving a customer who put it on the counter, went to pay, and it was gone.”

Me: “Really?”

Coworker: “Yes, and the woman who was behind her in the line left suddenly as we noticed. We both asked where she was going and I stopped her to ask if she had seen the wallet. She told me no. Then I watched as she went around the back of your department and you served her. I just figured she had forgotten something.”

Me: “I had a funny feeling so followed her. She pretty much led me to where the wallet was hidden. *takes coworker to the spot*

Coworker: “This is right where I stopped her. She must have thrown it into the fabric, the b****!”

(We had no real proof but the woman was lucky that we didn’t report it as her layby contained her name and address. The other customer was so happy to have the wallet returned intact!)

(I am ringing up a couple customers. The first is visibly drunk, but has been pleasant throughout the transaction.)

Me: “That will be [total], sir.”

Customer: “What’s that mean?”

(He is pointing at our tip jar, which has a sign reading ‘Tipping: Bad for Cows, Good for Staff.’)

Me: “You mean cow tipping?”

(He stares at me, clearly very confused.)

Me: “It’s a stereotypical redneck activity where you go out into a field and push a cow over while she’s sleeping.”

Customer: “You… what? Why do you push the cows?”

Me: “… because it’s funny?”

(I spend another five minutes trying to explain the concept. He really tries to wrap his head around it but he’s just too inebriated to manage it. Finally, he gives up and walks off with his food. The second customer, who has witnessed all of this, steps up to the register. He’s laughing and gesturing to his flannel shirt and jeans.)

Customer #2: “Don’t worry, honey. I’m a farm boy and I know what cow tipping is.”

Me: “Oh, thank goodness.”