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A Good Ol’ Fashioned A** Whoopin’

, , , , , | Right | August 27, 2008

Me: “Sir, would you like to use any coupons today?”

Customer: “Yes, I’ve been saving them. Here you go!”

(He hands me a coupon that had expired five years previously.)

Me: “Sir, your coupon is expired.”

Customer: “WHAT?! What do you mean it’s expired? You f***ing b****, you’re just trying to steal my f***ing money! You’re trying to rob me! You and this f***ing company are trying to steal my f***ing money!”

(The customer attempts to climb over the counter and attack me. Thankfully, my manager intercepts him.)

Manager: “Sir, I need you to come with me.”

(My manager hauls the customer off counter by the back of his collar and drags him outside. Ten minutes pass, and he comes back in hauling a very disheveled customer by the shirt.)

Customer: “Your manager told me that I need to apologize to you. I’m sorry for yelling.”

Manager: “Now, apologize for cursing at her.”

Customer: “I’m sorry for cursing at you.”

Manager: “Now, what’s our policy on expired coupons?”

Customer: “You don’t accept them.”

Manager: *to me* “Is he forgiven, or would you like to have him arrested?”

Me: “No, it’s okay. ”

Manager: *to customer* “Now get out, and don’t come back.” *throws customer out*


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Dads: Gotta Love ‘Em

, , , , , , | Right | August 25, 2008

(My father owns an auto shop where I sometimes work part time. Late one afternoon, a woman comes in.)

Me: “May I help you?”

Customer: “Yes. I need my car inspected.”

Me: “Well, we’re not taking any more inspections this afternoon. May I schedule you for tomorrow?”

Customer: “No, I want my car inspected now.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we take in our last inspection at 4:00 so we have time to pack up and shut down the machine.”

Customer: “Yes, but I just bought my car from [Dealer] and they told me I could bring my car here to get inspected for free.”

Me: “Yes, they will pay for your inspection here, but we’re closing soon. I’d be happy to schedule you an appointment for another day.”

Customer: “No! This is an outrage! At [Dealer] they told me I could bring in my car ANY TIME to be inspected here!”

Me: “Um… well…”

Customer: “I want my car inspected RIGHT NOW. They told me I could have it inspected any time!”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s 4:45 and we are closing in 15 minutes. We don’t have time…”

Customer: “Where is your manager!? I want to speak to your manager!”

Me: “Um… I’m afraid he’s out test driving a car.”

Customer: “That’s unacceptable! Is there anyone else I can talk to? I need to get my car inspected!”

Me: “Hold on…”

(I go out into the shop and check, but sure enough the only other person still here this late is the trainee mechanic. The woman proceeds to yell at us for about ten minutes. Eventually, my dad returns from his test drive.)

Me: “Dad, can you help this woman?”

Dad: “What can I do for you today?”

Customer: “I brought my car here from [Dealer] for an inspection but they won’t give one to me!”

(My dad proceeds to tell her everything I told her, smiling through all her abuse. Eventually…)

Customer: “Fine! This is an outrage! I’m going to write a complaint letter to [Dealer] about you!”

Dad: “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Me: “My God.”

Dad: “Let me give you a little advice about people like that. When somebody gets all worked up at you like that, you need to remain calm. Because the calmer you are, the angrier they get, and it’s REALLY funny.”


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The Cutter Gets Queued

, , , | Right | August 25, 2008

(I work at a cookie store in a train station and am serving a customer; there are a few people waiting behind him. Suddenly, a man comes and pushes in front.)

Customer: “Five white chocolates!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I have to finish serving these people first. Only then I will serve you.”

Customer: “But I have to catch a train!”

Me: “So does everybody else… This is a bloody TRAIN STATION!”

Customer: *looks a bit scared, nods his head, and goes to the back of the queue like a good boy*

Fighting Fire With Fire

, , | Right | August 13, 2008

(A father is letting five kids make a complete mess of the restaurant. They’re ripping napkins and using it as confetti, breaking chopsticks, and screaming their little heads off.)

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to tell them to stop doing that. They are disturbing the other customers.”

Father: *beaming* “No.”

Me: “No, as in, no, you won’t tell them to stop it?”

Father: *still beaming*“Yes.”

(I have to get back to work at this point and sure enough, the kids keep misbehaving. Several customers complain to me but I have no authority to throw them out. The last to complain is a table with about eight young guys.)

Customer #1: “So there’s nothing you can do about them?”

Me: “I’m so very sorry, sir, but no. I can get you a drink from the house to make up for it.”

Customer #2: “No, that won’t do.”

Me: “Well, I can see if I can get you a free dessert…”

Customer #2: “Not what I meant. Can’t you get your boss?”

Me: “I’m afraid he’s not in, sir.”

Customer #1: “Well, we won’t accept any free stuff. I bet that would come out of your pay.”

Customer #3: “Hold on…”

(The customer gets up and the others immediately follow him to the noisy, messy table. They’re now surrounded by eight tall, young men who look mighty pissed.)

Customer #3: *to the father* “Tell them to stop it.”

Father: *still beaming* “No.”

Customer #1: “You’re upsetting the waitress.”

Father: “Do you guys even work here?”

Customer #1: “No, we’re from that prison up the street. We’re out on parole. Funny coincidence, we all served seven years for kidnapping and murdering a bunch of noisy brats and a jerk who made minimum-wage waitresses cry.”

(At this point the kids become very, very quiet and the other patrons start giggling and staring.)

Father: “You’re lying.”

Customer #4: “Wanna take that chance, buddy?”

(One more lecherous grin was enough to send the whole bunch of misfits scurrying to the exit. My knights in shining armor actually got applause from the other diners and a free meal from me.)

Biting The Hand That Feeds You

, , , , | Right | July 16, 2008

(Even though I stutter a bit, I never had any trouble helping customers. This customer thought otherwise.)

Me: “C-can I help you sir?”

Customer: *odd look* “Yes, I’d like a pack of cigarettes.”

Me: “Okay, that’s th-three ni-ninety please.”

Customer: “HELP! THIS GIRL CAN’T HELP ME!”

(At this point my colleague enters the shop, standing at the second cash register which is closed.)

Customer: “You! You can help me!”

Colleague: “I’m sorry, this cash register is closed. My colleague will help you.”

Customer: “But she can’t help me!”

(A line begins to form behind the customer.)

Customer: *to me* “So… he says you can help me.”

Me: “No, I can’t help you.”

Customer: “WHY?!”

Me: “I don’t help a**holes.”

Customer: *swears and leaves the store*


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