(I work at an IT helpdesk that supports store managers. A manager calls in about problems with their telephone system.)

Me: “Can you tell me what model equipment you guys are using?”

Customer: “I don’t know what kind it is.”

Me: “Can you read me what the label says on the unit?”

Customer: “It says A… T… something in Chinese… and another T.”

Me: “Chinese?”

Customer: “I’m gonna unplug it.”

Me: “No, wait. Don’t–” *call disconnects*

(Since he disconnected his entire telephone system, we couldn’t contact the store and had to drive down to talk to them personally. We ended up having to hire a third-party tech to go out and plug that device back in and reconfigure the entire system. Apparently, they don’t have the ampersand in Alabama.)

(A customer approaches me with a box set of the Twilight novels.)

Customer: “Hi, I’m looking for a gift for my 13-year-old granddaughter and I think she would like these. My wife said to look at them. Don’t they promote abstinence?”

Me: “Well, sort of. The two main characters do end up sleeping together in the final book, though they are married. There’s some uncomfortable gore, though. I wouldn’t recommend it for a 13-year-old.”

Customer: *confused* “I was told these would be great for her. What kind of gore do you mean?”

Me: “Well, the girl ends up getting pregnant with a half-vampire baby and, er, the male main character sort of rips it out of her with his teeth.”

Customer: *drops books in horror* “That’s horrific! And these are for teenage girls? Why would people read that?”

Me: “I wonder the same thing myself, sir.”

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(A powerful storm has ripped through the state. The power has gone out. I have a rack of bread stuck in the oven with no way of removing it without power.)

Customer: “Do you have any hot bread?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. It’s stuck in the oven and the power is off.”

Customer: “Can’t you just open it?”

Me: “Not with the way our ovens rotate. There’s no way to get the bread off the rack.”

Customer: “Can’t you just reach in and grab one for me?”

Me: “Not without horribly burning myself.”

Customer: “Would you mind trying?”

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Customer: “Can I pay for my meal in guacamole?”

Me: “I–excuse me?”

Customer: “My wife makes a mean guacamole.”

Customer: “Excuse me, are you the manager?

Me: “Yes. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I want to complain about your employee in the jewelry department. She’s a hooligan!”

Me: “Well, what did she do?”

Customer: “Her hair is green!”

Me: “Ma’am, that’s just for St. Patrick’s Day.”

Customer: “I don’t care! It’s unprofessional and rebellious! It probably means she’s in a gang!”

Me: “Very well. I’ll talk with her.”

(The associate and I have a good laugh over it. She comes in the next day with her ordinary brown hair. The customer happens to come in, too.)

Customer: “Oh, your hair is brown! I’m glad I was able to help you get reformed from your rebellious ways!”

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