What’s His Deal?

, , , , | Right | July 11, 2018

(I manage a business that caters to people with body modifications such as gauged ears, plugs, piercings, etc. A lot of my clientele is polite, but occasionally I get a customer who gives us modified types a bad rap. Since I’m female, sometimes the male customers don’t take me seriously and think they can bully me.)

Customer: “How much are these plugs in my size?”

Me: “They’re $20 a pair.”

Customer: “And if I get two pairs?”

Me: “That would be $40.”

Customer: *stares at me*

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “You’re supposed to make me a deal if I want more things.”

Me: *flatly* “Am I?”

Customer: “Yeah, b****, it’s called good customer service. Don’t you f****** know anything?”

(Since this sort of encounter happens more than I would like to admit, I’m already over trying to help this guy.)

Me: “All right. You can either talk to me with respect, or you can leave, dude. I don’t have time for your crap.”

Customer: *looks at me stunned, silent*

Me: “Well?”

Customer: “I want a manager! Who the f*** do you think you are?!”

Me: “The f****** manager.”

(The customer looked pissed, then left.)


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Sounds Like Their Brain Is Oxygen Starved

, , , , , | Right | July 11, 2018

(I am the manager of a 144-unit apartment complex. One of my long-term — ten years plus — residents, confides in me that his elderly uncle, whom he lives with, hid from him that he has bedbugs in his room. Very soon thereafter, I have my professional exterminator go into his apartment to do a thorough inspection. Yes, indeed, he has bed bugs. The exterminator and I then call the resident to report the findings and to discuss the treatment plan. The exterminator is telling the resident how to prepare for treatment, and he asks the resident:)

Exterminator: “Does anyone living in your home have any respiratory problems?”

Resident: “No, but my mother can’t go anywhere without her oxygen tank.”

Exterminator: “She will have to be out of your home at least overnight, and not just the normal four hours.”

(Later on that same day, the resident comes into my office to pick up the “preparation list” of what to do. As he’s reading it over, he says to me:)

Resident: “About my mother, it says we only have to be gone for four hours?”

(I stare at him for a puzzled moment, and then I remind him that the exterminator asked him is anyone in his family had respiratory problems. He looks frustrated and repeats to me:)

Resident: “No, she just can’t go anywhere without her oxygen tank!”

(I stayed calm, did not laugh, and told this 47-year-old man, father of two, that the reason his mother has an oxygen tank in the first place is because of respiratory problems.)

The Mother Of All Viruses

, , , , , | Related | July 10, 2018

My family moved into a new house in the mid to late 90s. Being a teenager, the first thing I did was set up our computer and get AOL running. At some point later in the day, my mom went to use the phone, and instead of a dial tone, there was a weird beeping. She was convinced I had gone on the Internet and somehow downloaded a virus to our phone line, and there was nothing I could do to convince her otherwise.

She then made me call up technical support and sit on hold for over an hour to get the virus out of our phone. I was a shy kid who hated being on the phone talking to strangers, anyway, much less when I knew the thing I had to ask was moronic. So, when I finally got a tech on the line, I couldn’t stop cringing as I explained the “problem” to them. Shockingly, their response was that it wasn’t possible to get a virus on a phone line. Somehow them saying it was acceptable.

Oh, and we found out later that the person that previously had the phone line had set up voicemail on the line, and that beeping instead of dial tone was used to indicate a message had been left.

We Accept Visa, Amex, And Revelations

, , , | Right | July 9, 2018

(Our store recently installed new card readers. If you have a chip card, it cannot be swiped; it must go into the chip reader.)

Me: “Okay, your total is [total]. When the machine is ready, please insert your card.”

Customer: *begins frantically swiping card while machine beeps in protest*

Me: “It looks like you have a chip on your card. Please insert it into the chip reader.”

Customer: *still swiping* “No, I don’t have to.”

Me: “Unfortunately, you do.”

Customer: *glaring at me while he finally puts the card into the machine* “Don’t you know that chips in cards are a sign of the devil?”

Me: “Here’s your receipt; have a nice day.”

(If it’s that big of a deal, why risk your immortal soul by keeping that card in your wallet? Use cash!)

Making A Wrong Number Even More Wrong

, , , , | Romantic | July 9, 2018

(It’s late at night and I get a call from a number I don’t recognize. I usually answer, anyway, so I can include telemarketers in my block-call list. I’m female and the caller is male.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Hey, girl! Wassup?”

Me: “I think you have the wrong number.”

Caller: “Woah. You’re not my baby momma.”

Me: “Nope.”

Caller: *pauses* “So, what’re you doing?”

Me: “I think you need to call your girl.” *hangs up*

(I don’t know what that guy was thinking! I was suddenly going to flirt with an unknown stranger who had a girlfriend or wife?)

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