Customer: “Can I get some chicken tenders?”

Me: “How many would you like?”

Customer: “How many do you have?”

Me: “Uh… four.”

Customer: “Can I have five?”

At the pest control company I work for, our customer accounts have an internal comments section that is only visible to employees. This is normally for private info like gate codes, tenant phone numbers, previous property owner information, etc.

However, it is also used as a need-to-know section before dealing with certain customers, as it’s near the top of the page and in red. These notes range from practical, such as:

Note: “Customer’s name is pronounced [phonetic spelling].”

To cute:

Note: “Do not treat in backyard. The customer’s tortoise lives there.”

To blaring warnings like:

Note: “DO NOT SELL SERVICE TO THIS CUSTOMER EVER AGAIN. THEY THREATENED THE TECH AT GUNPOINT.”

To date, though, my favorite note I’ve ever come across was this:

Note: “This customer thought we were spying on her for the government.”

The customer in question has been in service with us actively for nearly twenty years. I have no idea when the note was put in or why, but I guess she likes our company enough to accept our literal corporate espionage.

I work at a theme park with a world showcase that’s staffed by citizens of each of those countries. I’m Canadian so I’m working in the Canadian Pavilion. We have a trivia quiz at the main checkout counter, and one question is, “How many provinces and territories do we have, and can you name them?” Sadly, most guests who aren’t from Canada don’t know and then joke when wrong.

Guest: “Five provinces and no territories; that’s a trick question. They are British Columbia, Montreal, Toronto, Ontario, and Vancouver.”

Me: “Sorry, but that’s not correct. We have ten provinces and three territories. Here, I’ll show you on our map.”

Guest: “This is a fake map. I’m a grade five teacher and I teach the Canadian unit, so I know more about Canada than others.”

Before I could get my brain working to figure out if she was serious or not, she was called away to her family. I really hoped she was kidding and wasn’t passing on wrong information to new generations.

Related:
O, Canaduh, Part 11
O, Canaduh, Part 10
O, Canaduh, Part 9
O, Canaduh, Part 8
O, Canaduh, Part 7

I’m selling a cell phone on eBay. I ship it as a first-class package and drop it off in a USPS dropbox on Monday. I get the following email three days later.

Customer: “Although you have printed a shipping label, the tracking shows that it has not been mailed. Either confirm that the phone has indeed been given to USPS or put it in the mail within the next twenty-four hours. I expect that the item should have been in transit days ago. Get it done!”

Confused, I check the tracking, and lo, it does not show that it has shipped. I begin to worry about whether it got picked up from the dropbox, but I decide to wait and watch a bit before replying.

The next day, I check the tracking and it has been delivered. The post office apparently didn’t scan it in properly at pickup, which happens from time to time. I respond.

Me: “I’m sorry for your misfortune. I dropped off the item Monday, and from what I can tell, it never got scanned until it reached its destination facility. It should have been delivered now.”

Customer: “Yep. I’m trying to activate it now. Thanks.”

And of course, why would you acknowledge your unnecessary hostility?

I’m scheduling an inspection for a customer.

Me: “And can I have your address, please?”

Customer: “Sure! It’s 44 Bay-you Street.”

Me: “I’m sorry, did you say, ‘Bayview,’ or, ‘Bayou’?”

Customer: “Well, some people call it, ‘Bayou,’ but I say, ‘Bay-you.’”

Me: “I see.”