Wireless, Clueless, Hopeless, Part 20

| ON, Canada | Extra Stupid, Technology

(A customer comes in to return a wireless mouse that apparently doesn’t work. I always check them in our own computer before returning them, because the customers are usually doing something wrong.)

Customer: “This mouse doesn’t work.”

Me: “Okay, what’s it doing?”

Customer: “Nothing.”

Me: “Okay, and you had the batteries in right?”

Customer: “YES!”

Me: “And you had it turned on?”

Customer: “YES! I’M NOT AN IDIOT!”

Me: “I wasn’t calling you an idiot. A lot of people don’t realize you can turn them on or off. ”

(I check the batteries, turn it on and plug it in. It works.)

Me: “Hmm, the mouse is working fine. Are you sure you had it turned on?”

Customer: “YES! And I had the little thing in the mouse where it’s supposed to go!”

Me: “What little thing?”

Customer: “That little thing that sticks in the bottom of the mouse!”

(I take the USB receiver out of the computer and hold it up.)

Me: “This?”

Customer: “YES!”

Me: “You kept it in the mouse?”

Customer: “YES!”

Me: “That’s supposed to go in the computer…”

Related:
Wireless, Clueless, And Hopeless, Part 19
Wireless, Clueless, And Hopeless, Part 18
Wireless, Clueless, And Hopeless, Part 17

Her Query Is Ink-conclusive

| ON, Canada | Extra Stupid, Technology

(A fun new Polaroid style camera has come out and is extremely popular for Christmas gifts. I am talking to a middle-aged woman who should have grown up with film cameras.)

Customer: “So the camera’s 100 bucks, and the photo paper is 20 bucks for 20? That’s so expensive!”

Me: “Yeah, it’s a little expensive.”

Customer: “And how much is the ink?”

Me: “There is no ink.”

Customer: “So the pictures aren’t even in colour!?”

Me: “Yes, they’re in colour.”

Customer: “Right so when the ink runs out, I’ll have to get more.”

Me: “No it doesn’t use ink; it’s film.”

Customer: “What do you mean it doesn’t use ink!? How does the picture print?”

Me: “It doesn’t technically print; it develops. It’s film.”

Customer: “I don’t get what you mean.”

Me: “The film is a special type of paper that reacts to light. When you take the picture, the light imprints on the paper, and when it comes out, it’s a picture. It’s like a Polaroid.”

Customer: “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m sure the ink is expensive.”

How To Fry Their Canadian Bacon

, | Quebec, QC, Canada | At The Checkout, Geography

(I’m a European immigrant: I don’t necessarily look foreign, as I’ve been told by some… But I sound foreign. While serving an older customer:)

Customer: “And what race are you?”

Me: “I’m from the human race, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, of course? I mean what “race” are you?”

Me: “There are no race among humans, ma’am. If you want to know my phenotype, I’m Caucasian, like you.”

Customer: “I’m a proud Canadian!”

Me: “That’s your nationality, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, uh, I’m never shopping here again!”

Zero Chance Of Success

| ON, Canada | Extra Stupid, Language & Words, Technology

(If someone’s phone number area code is 905, it is commonly said as ‘nine-oh-five’ instead of ‘nine-zero-five.’ Everyone who has ever sent a letter in Canada, also knows that Postal Codes are always Letter-Number-Letter, Number-Letter-Number. I am trying to do an online order for a customer, who has been very difficult throughout the entire transaction. I am taking his shipping information down.)

Me: “Okay, and what’s your postal code?”

Customer: “P, ‘oh,’ E, 5, Y ‘oh.'”

(I type it in and ask for the rest of his info, but the computer tells me the postal code is wrong.)

Me: “Hmm, that’s weird, it’s telling me the postal code is incorrect. Maybe I typed it in wrong. Can you repeat it to me, please?”

Customer: “P, ‘oh,’ E, 5, Y ‘oh.'”

(I type in P0E 5Y0.)

Me: “No, it still says it’s wrong. Maybe it doesn’t want me to put a space. Did your area’s postal code recently change?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll try again.” *I try again, and nothing*

Customer: “You do know that when I say ‘oh’, it’s not a letter, right? It’s the number Zero.”

Me: “Yes, I know that. I’m putting in zeros.”

Customer: “Because ‘oh’ and zero aren’t the same thing. They may look the same, but they’re not.”

Me: “I know. I put in zeros.”

(I try again, but it still says it’s wrong.)

Me: *to an associate* “Can you put his postal code in? I keep trying with capitals, no capitals, spaces, no spaces, and it keeps telling me it’s wrong. I’ll bet you if someone else just does it, it’ll work.”

(My associate comes over and asks for the postal code.)

Me: “P, ‘oh,’ E, 5, Y ‘oh.'”

Customer: “They’re not ‘oh’s! They’re zeros! That’s why it’s not working!”

Associate: “I know they’re zeros, I know that postal codes are always letter-number-letter, number-letter,number.”

Customer: “But the computer doesn’t know that! The computer doesn’t know that you mean zero when you say ‘oh’!”

Me: “It doesn’t have to, because we’re not typing in ‘oh’s, we’re typing zeros. We’re just saying ‘oh’ because it’s easier. Everyone calls them ‘oh’s; even you did.”

(I tell my associate the postal code again, but I make sure to say ‘zero’ instead of ‘oh’ and when he types it in, it works.)

Me: “Thanks, I knew I just needed someone else to do it.”

Customer: “It’s because you were saying ‘oh’ the whole time! It’s not ‘oh’ it’s zero!”

(I wanted to smack him…)

He’s Never Finn-ished

| Helsinki, Finland | Bad Behavior, Bigotry

(A customer is buying a few items. Due to a misunderstanding that isn’t in any way my fault he almost ends up buying the wrong model of a popular phone. I apologize nonetheless and the matter is resolved. Since the misunderstanding he’s had a chip on his shoulder. He is watching me very closely and trying to catch me making a mistake. To his disgruntlement everything goes smoothly.)

Me: “…and there you go. Have a pleasant day.”

Customer: “Hmph… Boy, let me ask you a question. Where are you from?”

Me: “Helsinki.”

Customer: “No, no, no… I mean originally?”

Me: “Helsinki.”

Customer: “Stop being a smart a**! What country are you or your parents originally from?!”

(I’m a bit baffled by this question since I’m blond, have blue eyes, and a light skin. I look pretty much your stereotypical Finn.)

Me: “Finland… Um, what are you trying to ask exactly.”

Customer: “Look here, brat, stop playing this game with me! I know you immigrants like to think of yourselves as Finns, but you are not and never will be. Stop dodging my question and answer me! Where is your family from?!”

Me: “Sir, please calm yourself. I am not playing games. As far as I know my family has always lived in Finland. What makes you doubt—”

Customer: “Impossible! That just can’t be true.”

Me: “Well, sure if you are talking about the dawn of humanity; then everyone is from Africa, I guess. But my grandfather was actually a genealogy enthusiast, and he found out that our family has been living in Finland at least since the 17th century. That is pretty much as early as is possible to find any written records from Finland.”

Customer: “No, you are lying!”

Me: “Okay, look at me then. Where do you think I am from?”

Customer: “That is not for me to know but for you to tell me! I am a customer!”

(A coworker is standing at another counter with his back to us. He is of Chinese descent but was born in Finland. Only the back of his head is visible to us and he has dyed his hair blonde. He hasn´t heard my conversation with the customer.)

Customer: *shouting to my coworker* “Hey! You! Clerk over there!”

(My coworker turns to us a little surprised because of the shouting. The customer frowns as he sees my coworkers face.)

Customer: *mumbling to himself* “… Oh, god, another one.”

Coworker: “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

Customer: *pointing at me* “What country is this boy from?”

Coworker: “Umm… Finland.”

Customer: “NO! You lying son of a… Where are YOU from?!”

Coworker: “Born and raised in Helsinki.”

(The customer screams incoherently and slams his hand on the counter.)

Customer: “You are all liars, thieves, and tax dodging lazy immigrants who should never have been let into this country! I am reporting you to the consumer authority and immigration officials! This will not stand, mark my words!”

(He storms off.)

Coworker: “What was that about?”

Me: “I have absolutely no idea. A hidden camera show or an episode of The Twilight Zone are the only explanations I can think of.”

(Luckily we never heard from him again.)

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