(I’m visiting a cell phone store.)

Me: “I can’t get the location services to work.”

Clerk: “Let’s see… um… no… well… um…”

Me: *joking* “You know that all these devices are cats, right? I mean, they do what they want to do, in their own time, in their own way, and they don’t care if we like it.”

Clerk: *cheerfully* “I prefer to think of them as senior citizens. They do all the stuff you just said, and they’re really, really slow.”

Me: *gently* “You might want to be a little careful of whom you say that to. I’m 72.”

Clerk: *in shock* “Wow… you’re older than my dad!”

(It is a Sunday afternoon, and as such, even though I work for an authorized retailer for a major cell phone company, I am running the store alone. I work in a small town and this usually isn’t a problem and, therefore, there are no cameras. Two customers walk in: an older man, sporting a beard and overalls, [Customer #1], and the other, a younger guy, [Customer #2].)

Customer #1: “Hey, man, I have an issue with my cell phone bill; I keep gettin’ charges I don’t want and don’t have a clue how they get on my cell phone.”

(The man is carrying a cane, so I offer a chair for him to sit on. I have to call customer care, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take, so I offer the other customer a chair as well. Everything is going smoothly. [Customer #1] is talking to [Customer #2] about his time in ‘Nam and how Charlie killed a couple of his buddies. I ignore the remark, as [Customer #2] is being polite and nodding and smiling. It has been about fifteen minutes now.)

Me: “It should only be a couple of minutes more, and then everything should be resolved.” 

([Customer #2] simply smiles, being a patient customer.)

Customer #1: “Not a problem. You guys want to see something cool?”

(The old man then proceeds to pull out a pistol and wave it a few times, in a nonthreatening way. I tense up, as does the second guest. Unsure of what to do, I ask the customer if he has a permit for that, as customer service comes back on the line. I hurry up the call, making sure not to offend the customer, who has holstered his pistol by now. Customer care finishes the credit.)

Me: “All right, sir, you are all set. I hope you have a good day.”

(The customer shakes my hand and leaves. His account has his address on it and I catch a glimpse of his truck.)

Customer #2: “You realize he said he had no permit for that, right?”

(I hadn’t heard this, and therefore asked the guest if he minded if I called the police, assuming they would need his statement. He agreed, all the while being the best customer ever. Not sure what happened to [Customer #1], but I got a $100 credit for [Customer #2], and the DM had cameras installed the following week.)

Back when I used to work for a specific big-brand cell phone store, our biggest competitor was directly next door due to bad lease agreements. We would trade stories of customers who came into both stores and this is my favorite.

A guy came into my store, looking to purchase a phone and plan. We ran his credit and informed him that he needed a fairly large deposit. He left, saying that he would try next door. It was a common occurrence, so we thought nothing of it. The next day, I found out the rest of the story, as my shift ended shortly after.

The man went in next door and did the same thing: filled out an electronic application for a phone plan. Now, for those who don’t know, we have to see and type in your driver’s license — or government-issued ID — and your social security number. When they did this, they informed the man that he had a deposit, but smaller than our store’s. The man seemed pleased and said he’d be back.

The man came back an hour later with a knife, held the store up, and robbed them of cash and phones. He had no mask or anything concealing his identity. When the state police came out to fill out the report, they laughed when the employee was able to pull up his cell phone plan application and give them every bit of identifiable information they needed. That man was arrested later that day.

(I work in a cell phone store.)

Customer: “Can you delete my butt pictures?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “My butt pictures!”

Me: “Your what, sir?”

Customer: “My butt photos! You know, photos my phone took with my butt, kind of like when you butt-dial someone!”

Me: “Oh! Okay, I see.”

(An old lady enters the store.)

Customer: “I have calls on my phone and I’m not able to delete them!”

Me: “You want to delete calls?”

Customer: “Yes! They are on my phone and I can’t remove them.”

(I look at her phone.)

Me: “Oh, I understand! You have voicemails.”

(I show her how to access her voicemail and she begins to listen to it.)

Customer: “Oh! Hello! Yes! Okay!”

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am. You know it’s only a voicemail. The person that left it on your phone cannot hear you.”

Customer: *to me* “Yes, yes!” *to the phone* “Okay! See you later. Bye!”

Me: “You know the person couldn’t hear you, right? It’s only a voicemail. It was recorded.”

Customer: “Yes, I know. Thank you very much!”

(She went out happily.)