Send In The Clowns, Part 2

, , | Right | June 1, 2008

Me: “Hi! I’m calling today looking for sponsorships for less fortunate children to attend the annual circus.”

Person: “Oh, that sounds wonderful.”

Me: “Would you like to sponsor a child this year?”

Person: “Will there be clowns?”

Me: “Yes, I believe there will be a few clowns.”

Person: “What kind?”

Me: “I’m… sorry?”

Person: “Are they the good ones?”

Me: “They are professionals, so I believe they will be quite good.”

Person “Do children like them?”

Me: “Yes…”

Person: *in a hushed voice* “I carry a picture of that scary clown in my pocket. I don’t like scary clowns.”

Me: “Scary clown?”

Person: “… from the movie. I bought it so I could have a picture of the scary clown. I have nightmares about it.”

Me: “Ummm… that’s horrible. I’m sorry for bringing up such an awful memory. I will just let you go, then.”

Person: “No, I want to help. Kids like that kind of thing. What do I have to do?”

Me: “Well, we will send you a sponsorship packet in the mail. It will have an invoice. You just have to send in payment.”

Person: “Will there be clowns?”

Me: “At the circus?”

Person: “No, I mean will you make sure that they don’t send any clowns in that paper?”

Me: “Yes, I will make sure that you do not get sent any clowns…”

(Ironically, I found out after hanging up that the sponsorship packet has a large picture of a clown on the envelope.)

 

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It (Almost) Never Hurts To Check

, , | Right | June 1, 2008

Customer: “Let me see that knife in the case.”

Me: “Here ya go.”

Customer: “I don’t think this knife is sharp enough.”

Me: “Really? ”

(The customer pulls the blade across his palm, slicing his hand open and spilling blood all over the floor.)

Customer: “I guess it is.”

Me: “Would you like some paper towels?”

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Way Too Much Information

, , | Right | May 29, 2008

(I was ringing up an old lady when another old lady in my line recognizes the first lady.)

Old Lady #1: “Oh, hey! I didn’t see you there!”

Old Lady #2: “That’s okay… I didn’t recognize you with clothes on!”

Me: “What?!”

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Oh Customer, Wherefore Art Thou

, , | Right | May 27, 2008

(I was working as an usher on the door, directing people to their seats.)

Customer’s Daughter: “We’re lost, Mummy.”

Customer: “I know. How do we get out of here?”

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, we’re lost.”

Me: “Lost?”

Customer: “Yes, we can’t find our seats.”

Me: “You’re in C12 & 13. That’s the back row, the two seats in the middle.”

Customer: “Oooooh, okay…”

(I watched as she looked for their seats. She stared right at them… then looked over the edge, up to the balcony, and even at the chandelier! They finally settled down in the nook seats at the side that have zero visibility. I worry about our audiences sometimes.)

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Nothin’ Like A Good Old Existential Meltdown

, , | Right | May 22, 2008

(I’m confronted by a customer with an extremely high pitched voice and impenetrable Highland accent. This is one of those tiny old Scottish women with a headscarf nailed on and muscles like steel wires. They are a common sight in the East of Scotland, and are almost immortal. Only the slow action of the wind off the north sea will gradually erode them.)

Me: “That will be £[amount], please.”

Old Lady: “Areyenamerican?”

Me: “I beg your pardon?”

Old Lady: “Ah sid, are ye Namerican?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I missed that.”

Old Lady: “Are… ye… an… American?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I misheard you. No, I’m English.”

Old Lady: “Oh… why?”

(I have spent much of the last three years trying to come up with a satisfactory answer. As yet I have made no progress.)

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