(A customer comes in asking for dictation software. I showed him a very popular dictation package.)
Customer: “Does that use voice recognition?”
Me: “Yes, it does.”
Customer: “Oh, I don’t want that! Voice recognition doesn’t work. Do you have any dictation software that doesn’t use voice recognition?”
Me: “No, we do not.”
Customer: *looks annoyed and leaves*
(I work in a gas station and am the only female employee that works the second shift on a regular basis. I have very short hair and am often mistaken for male if customers aren’t paying attention. Sometimes, it is a great source of amusement for me because it seems to bother them more than it bothers me. One early evening, a customer comes in with her little girl who is probably about four years old.)
Me: “Did you find everything all right?”
Customer: “Yeah, just this and…” *to her daughter* “Did you find the candy you want, sweetie?”
(I notice now that the little girl is giving me a horrified look as if I have just told her there is no Santa.)
Customer’s Daughter: *starts pulling on her mother’s shirt* “Mommy! Mommy! Is that a boy or a girl?”
(The mother ignores her, but the little girl continues to ask and gets progressively louder each time. I am finishing running her credit card and hand her the receipt. At the top of every receipt is the name of the cashier. The woman picks up her daughter who is now glaring at me and finally answers her after reading my obviously female name.)
Customer’s Daughter: *now yelling so loud everyone in the store can hear* “MOMMY! IS IT A BOY OR A GIRL?!”
Customer: “Shh! She’s a girl, sweetie. Now hush.”
(I’m trying very hard not to laugh, as everyone in the store is now staring.)
Me: “Mystery solved! Have a good—”
Customer’s Daughter: *shrieking* “WHY DOES SHE HAVE SUCH SHORT HAIR?!”
Customer: *turning six shades of red* “Because some women just like their hair to be short.”
(The customer’s daughter turns to me and points accusingly.)
Customer’s Daughter: “YOU! You shouldn’t have such short hair! Girls have long hair! DUH!”
(After the woman has left with her boisterous, opinionated child in tow, a regular customer comes to my register.)
Regular: *jokingly* “Well, hello again, young man! Having a good evening?”
Customer: “I’d like a latrine!”
Me: “Oh, okay, the bathroom is just—”
Customer: “No! How much is a latrine?”
Me: “Well, ma’am, there’s no charge for using the—”
Customer: “No! Of soup! How much?”
Me: “OH! A tureen!”
Customer: “Yes, how much is a latrine of soup?”
(I am a customer heading for the bathroom at a store. A woman storms out of the lady’s room. It looks like she’s trying hard to keep her hands in the air and not touch anything as she marches up to an employee.)
Customer: “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting in there!? Why hasn’t anyone come in?”
Employee: “I’m sorry?”
Customer: “The sign in there says ‘Employees must wash hands’! I’ve been waiting in there for fifteen minutes for someone to wash my hands!”
(I’m a little hyperactive and ditzy, but mostly it comes off as being friendly, or so I think until this customer comes up to me.)
Customer: “Miss, exactly what kind of drugs are you on?”
Me: “None at all, I assure you.”
Customer: “Bulls***! You can’t just be that happy!”
Me: *completely bewildered* “I’m sorry?”
Customer: “That’s more like it!” *picks up his things and leaves*
