Leaving With Her Taillights Between Her Legs

, , , , | Right | January 15, 2020

My first job was working at a small four-bay auto shop in a mountain community. A customer came in with a brand-new SUV, complaining that her husband said her taillights did not work. 

According to her, she had missed a few days of work because she was afraid to drive without taillights for fear of being pulled over. She said the bulbs the local parts store had sold to her had proved ineffective. I ran through a light check; I even had a colleague watch while I pushed on the brakes and activated the blinkers to make sure everything was working properly. All taillights worked, so I noted normal operation at this time and shipped the car to be returned to its owner. 

The next day, I found the same SUV in my bag with a note in all caps: “CUSTOMER STATES TAILLIGHTS STILL DO NOT WORK.” I checked everything again, and again, everything seemed to be working. Dumbfounded, I told the service writer the results. He ended up calling the customer and asking her to drop by the shop to help us understand what she thought was wrong. 

She came by a few hours later. I showed her that all the lights worked, but she insisted her taillight was still broken. I walked to the back of the car and asked her to point out the lights she thought weren’t working. 

She told me the lights were broken because they never came on with the other ones when the headlights were turned on… and then proceeded to point out the white reverse lights on the back of her car. 

Apparently, she’d missed three days of work because she didn’t understand that reverse lights only come on when the car is in reverse. (There is one manufacturer that has programmed reverse lights to indicate when a button on the key fob is pressed, but this particular vehicle was not one of those.) 

I showed her that the reverse lights did, indeed, work, and sent her on her way.

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Unable To See The Weight Of The Problem  

, , , , | Right | January 11, 2020

(I’m at my mechanic because my battery died right as I was going to work. These guys may be the best mechanics ever, always doing good work in little time. In this case, even though I drove in with no warning, they’re getting me a new battery installed in less than an hour. I hear the following side of a phone conversation:)

Mechanic: “No, I’m sorry, we won’t be able to help you with that.”


Mechanic: “Because that’s too much weight for us to put on our lifts.”


Mechanic: “Yes, you’re correct, [Previous Manager] did sometimes do that, which was a misuse of the equipment and resulted in burned-out motors and people’s cars stuck in the air in our bays.”


Mechanic: *rolls eyes* “Because we cannot take our standard lifts and put your motorhome on them!

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Unfiltered Story #182245

, , | Unfiltered | January 11, 2020

I’m the idiot customer in this story.
I have an appointment at a store’s automotive service center. I enter through the automotive entrance instead of the main store entrance and approach the desk.
Me: I have a 5:00 appointment.
Him: I’m going to send you on through to my tire desk.
I thank him and follow a maze of hallways to the tire desk and get checked in.
When I get back to the waiting room, I am mortified to notice that there are signs on the counter and by the hallway entrance that say to check in at the tire desk that I missed because I was focusing on the person at the desk.
I didn’t know whether to feel better or worse when the 3 people who came in while I was waiting all tried to check in with him. He was a trooper, just responded to everyone the same way and went about his business.

Expecting You To Pick Something Out Of The Blue

, , , , | Right | January 2, 2020

(I work at a large chain auto parts store. I don’t mind answering the phone, but sometimes it gets… interesting.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Auto Parts Store]. This is [My Name]. How can I help?”

Customer: “Yeah, I need some parts for my van.”

Me: “Okay. Make, model, year?”

Customer: *silence*

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: “I don’t know, but it’s blue.”

Me: “I really can’t do much without knowing what kind of van you have.”

Customer: “I told you. It’s blue.”

Me: “Unless you’re looking for touch-up paint, I can’t do a lot with that information.”

Customer: “I have called three different stores and nobody has been able to help me! It’s not that hard to look up parts for a blue van!” *hangs up*

(At this point, I am not sure if this guy is serious, a prank caller, or of one of my coworkers messing with me. I forget about the call after laughing about it with the other guys for a few hours… until a blue van rolls up and its driver walks in.)

Customer: “I need parts for my blue van.”

(It was a Chrysler, for those curious.)

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Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 3

, , , , , , | Right | January 1, 2020

(I am a parts saleswoman at a large auto parts store. Often, I get flak from customers — mostly older men — who assume that because I have boobs and am in my 20s, I know nothing about cars, particularly vintage vehicles. I’m a vintage American muscle enthusiast, so I have extensive knowledge in the area. A customer walks in one evening, sees me, and immediately demands that he wants to talk to “one of the guys.” I inform him that my coworker is changing a battery in the parking lot and may be a while, but I would be more than happy to assist him.)

Customer: “Fine, but you can’t help me. 1967 Mustang.”

Me: “Okay, what is the engine size?”

Customer: “It’s a 350.”

Me: “Oh, it’s got a Chevy motor?”

Customer: “No, it’s a Ford engine.”

Me: “So, it’s the 351?”

Customer: *angrily* “No. It’s a d*** Ford, so it’s got a d*** Ford 350 engine! Look it up!”

Me: “Sir, there’s no such thing as a Ford 350. Ford has a 351, so unless you swapped it for a Chevy 350, that’s what your Mustang has. Common misconception.”

Customer: “You don’t think I know what engine my Mustang has in it? It’s a d*** 350, so find me parts for a 350!”

(I ended up selling him the parts for a Chevy 350 since he wouldn’t shut up. Lo and behold, two days later he showed back up during my shift and rather sheepishly admitted that he was mistaken and his Mustang did, in fact, have a 351. I sold him the correct parts and never saw him or his Mustang ever again.)

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 2
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries

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