Me: “We’ve got a special offer on chocolate at the moment, if you’re interested at all?”

Customer: “Chocolate?! You know what? I will have some. I hope you’re happy. I mean, honestly… why do you think I have a weight problem, let alone the rest of the world?”

Me: “Sir, I didn’t say you had to buy it…”

Customer: “Well, no, you didn’t, but I’m not going to turn down a special offer, am I?”

Me: “Would you like me to offer you a health bar instead?”

Customer: “No, I’ll take two chocolate bars.”

Angry Old Woman: “Excuse me! I am very upset because you sold my young grandson p*rnography!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t sell p*rnography.”

Angry Old Woman: “Get me the manager, now!”

Manager: “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

Angry Old Woman: “Your pervert cashier sold my grandson p*rnography!”

Manager: “Are you sure about that? We don’t sell anything like that here.”

Angry Old Woman: “Do you think I’m stupid? I saw it with my own eyes! It had naked women and he told me he bought it here with no problem!”

Manager: “Could you show me on the shelf what it was?”

(She goes over to the magazines, and points at Maxim.)

Angry Old Woman: “It was this one! See? Right here! Where any child could see!”

Manager: “Ma’am, this magazine is not p*rnography. Granted, the women are scantily clad in a few pictures but they aren’t naked and there is no age restriction on its sale.”

Angry Old Woman: “I know p*rnography when I see it, and this is very offensive. How could you sell it to young children?”

Manager: “Well, actually our store policy dictates that we won’t sell this to a young child even though it is still legal. How old is your grandson?”

Angry Old Woman: “He’s only sixteen!”

Manager: *rolls eyes* “I don’t want to offend your moral beliefs, Ma’am, but if your sixteen year old grandson wants to look at women in bikinis there is no force on earth that is going to stop it. Seriously.”

Angry Old Woman: “The power of Jesus can stop it! The power of Christ should compel you to remove this magazine from your shelves!”

Manager: “Right… Real quick, ma’am, before I get back to work, can I ask you a question? Does your grandson have Internet access?”

Angry Old Woman: “What does that have to do with anything?”

Manager: “A lot, and I think that the power of Christ should compel you to learn how to look up his browser history. Have a good day.”

Customer: “I can’t find my valet ticket…”

Me: “No problem, what’s on your key-chain? Anything specific?”

Customer: “Keys! With a round thing on it!”

(No luck, and with customers backing up behind her, I let her look for her own set while I attend to other customers.)

Customer: “They’re not here! Did you lose my keys? He lost my keys!”

(I suggest she look again for her claim check, and go back to other customers.)

Customer: “I don’t see what the problem is, my car is RIGHT THERE!”

Me: “Ma’am, is it at all possible that you parked your car and you have your keys?”

(She digs in her purse, giggles, and runs off to her car.)

This story is part of our Even-More-Bad-Drivers roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

12 Stories About Customers Who Should Not Be Allowed To Drive!

Read the next Even-More-Bad-Drivers roundup story!

Read the Even-More-Bad-Drivers roundup!

Me: “Thank you for calling. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I want to know why I received a late fee on my statement?”

Me: “Let me check for you… I do apologize, sir. Your payment was received fifteen days after the due date, which caused the fee.”

Customer: “I see. Can you remove it?”

Me: “Unfortunately, no. You have had three removed this year already. This fee will not be removed.”

Customer: “What do you mean you won’t remove the f****** fee?! I always pay on time!”

Me: “…”

Customer: “What, are you stupid? Your god-d*** mother not educate you? Are you some kind of bank Nazi? Remove my fee!”

Me: “As I stated, this fee is valid and will not be removed.”

(This went on for about four to five minutes, his requests heavily sprinkled with profanity and insults.)

Customer: “Fine, you know what? You can take this g0d-d*** mo****-f****** Visa card and shove it up your god-d*** mo****-fu***** a**!”

Me: “Sorry, sir. My a** only accepts American Express.” *click*

Me: “Hi, I understand that you’re having problems with your delivery.”

Customer: “Yes, your stupid SOB driver won’t deliver to my apartment. I saw him through the window and thought he’d be right up, but he never came up.”

Me: “Ma’am, I see that you live in an apartment complex, is there a security code or call box on the gate that the driver would need to use to gain access to your complex?”

Customer: “There isn’t a call box or a gate code. The gates stay locked all day.”

Me: “Well, without a gate code or a call box at the gate, my driver can’t get through to your gate. Furthermore, if you saw him outside of the complex, why didn’t you go out to greet him?”

Customer: “That’s not my problem. I shouldn’t have to leave my apartment to get my package. It’s your job to deliver it to my door.”

Me: “Actually, it is your problem if you’d like to receive your package today.”

Customer: “You can’t speak to me like that! I demand to speak to your supervisor!

Me: “Ma’am, I am the supervisor. I also dispatch to the driver to reattempt delivery to your address.”

Customer: “I still don’t see why I have to do half of your job. You’re the delivery company.”

Me: “No problem, ma’am. We’ll bring it back to the building tonight and we’ll try it again tomorrow. If we can’t reach your door tomorrow, then we’ll try again a third time and after that, if it gets sent back to the shipper, you’ll have to address it with them.”

Customer: “NO! NO! NO! Fine! I’ll prop the gate open. It’s medication that I need today!”

Me: *looks in system — it’s Victoria Secret*

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