I’m the tech person in my family, not that I’m very skilled or have a degree, but I at least know how to look things up and usually can get stuff set up with minimal issues.

In this case, I’m setting up some speakers for my dad, so he can hear the TV in his chair without deafening the rest of us. It turns out the default connection cable that came with the system is not compatible with our TV, though the transmitter can also use the optical cable our TV needs. A quick trip to the tech store and I’m good to set it up!

Except the cable doesn’t fit.

I’m not sure what went wrong. I wrote down the kind of cable, the one I bought had a picture of the port it plugs into on it, and that port matches the ones on our TV and transmitter, but it will only go partway in. I go back to the tech store, and this time, I bring the transmitter with me to make sure I get the right cable.

The customer service people are very sympathetic. Before they decide if I can open packages in the store, they want to see if they can figure out what’s wrong with the cable I’m returning. The first words when the tech pulls it out of the box:

Tech: “Did you take the caps off?”

She proceeds to remove these little plastic domes from the ends of the cable — domes I thought were the ends of the cables. I stare for a couple of seconds.

Me: “Oh. I’m an idiot.”

They were very kind, reassured me that it happens all the time, and confirmed that, with the cap off, the wire did fit the transmitter. I thanked them for their help and went back home to hook up Dad’s speakers. My reputation as the in-house tech for my family may be shot, though.

I work in an operations office for an airline. We don’t work with the general public, but we do support our airports and often get calls from airport agents across the network. Our number is private, but there are occasions when an airport employee gives it out instead of the actual call center. It’s a pretty quiet day until I get this call.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Team] for [Airline]. You’ve reached [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Elderly Caller: “Who?!”

Me: “You’ve reached [My Name] at [Airline], [Team]. How may I assist you?”

Elderly Caller: “Yes… can I take my medication with me?”

Me: *Pause* “I’m sorry, are you a passenger? This is an internal line; I can transfer you to the call center if you need assistance?”

Elderly Caller: “What?! No, dear, I just want to know which medication is better.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have an answer for you. Let me transfer you to the call center and, hopefully, they can assist you.”

Elderly Caller: “See, I’ve got the name brand, but the generic is cheaper and I want to make sure I take the stuff that won’t get taken away.”

Me: *Setting up the switchboard to transfer her call* “I understand, ma’am, but I don’t have the answer. Let me get someone on the line that hopefully should be able to assist.”

Elderly Caller: “I thought the airline would know. How do they not know? Why can’t this be easy? Why’d the government have to make this so complicated? It’s all those space aliens, I bet. The moment they blow up something like New York, everyone starts panicking all the time. Why don’t you guys know what you accept and what you don’t?”

Me: *Lets her finish her tirade* “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. I’ll transfer you to the call center right now for those answers you’re looking for.”

Elderly Caller: “Nah, don’t bother. I’ll just go with the name brand.” *Click*

My sister and I went to a local pub around the corner from our house to have a couple of drinks. I saw what I wanted in the fridge behind the bar.

Me: “Can I have the [Irish Cider], cherry flavour, please?”

Sister: “And can I have a dry white wine, please?”

For those who don’t know much about wine, white wine generally gets kept chilled in the fridge, not just left on the shelf.

Barman: “Eh… what was that, sorry?”

Me: “An Irish cherry cider. Also a dry white wine for my sister, please?”

Barman: “We have cider, but not the kind you want!”

Me: “Yes, you do.” *Points to the fridge* “Over there.”

Barman: “Oh, we don’t have cherry flavour. Also, what colour is cherry, anyway?”

Me: “Cherry can depend on the season, but on this occasion, it’s the dark red on the third shelf up, four in!” *Points*

The barman checked the location for what seemed an eternity.

Barman: “Oh, I did not know we had that…”

He placed it on the bar and went to get the white wine.

Me: *To my sister* “That was interesting. Even [Six-Year-Old Niece] and [Six-Year-Old Nephew] would know the colour of cherry!”

The barman came back from taking a bottle of white wine, not from the fridge beside him, but from a shelf further up the bar, and started pouring.

Sister: “Ehm, pardon me? What are you doing? White wine gets served chilled, unlike red wine. I see you have a bottle of [White Wine]. I will have that, please.”

The barman gave her a confused look.

Sister: “I see you’re still pouring. I won’t be having that. Please get the wine I asked for.”

Grumpily, the barman went and got the wine from the fridge and poured the wine as per request. Then, he left the bottle of white wine, from the fridge, on the bar with the lid off, not closing it or even putting it in the fridge.

Sister: “Can I see your manager, please?”

Luckily for us, the manager just happened to come out of the office at that time and walked past the bar.

Manager: “Hello, I’m the manager. How can I help?”

My sister explained the situation, and the manager, dumbfounded by this, turned to the barman.

Manager: “They are not paying for these drinks. Also, what did we teach in training? Do you not remember the brands we sell or how to store wine? I specifically remember [Other Employee] telling you this. One more mistake and you’re out.”

The manager directed us to a table to enjoy our drinks.

As my sister picked up the wine glass to drink, she noticed a lipstick stain on the rim.The barman sheepishly changed the glass over. We did notice that the white wine got moved to the fridge eventually.

We’ve been there a couple of times since then over the years and have never seen or heard of that barman again.

A couple of decades ago, when Compuserve and AOL dial-up were still fairly big, we had a deal that would give people a $400 instant discount on our computers. Most of our PCs were between $400 and $550, so it was possible to get a computer for very little money — sometimes, for almost nothing.

There were two catches. One: It required signing up for a Compuserve account. Two: You had to be locked into a multi-year contract. I’m hazy on the details; it was a monthly fee for three years, I believe, but I forget the monthly fee amount. I do remember that the EXACT amount paid over the course of the contract was $790.24, which was just about double the original discount, meaning you would be paying back TWICE as much as they took off the price.

Now, we weren’t required to give the full details of the “catch”, but we would still tell our customers upfront, so they’d know EXACTLY what they were getting into. Nine times out of ten, they would go through with it anyway.

One old codger came in with his wife. He was determined to show me that he was no sucker.

Customer: “I’ve seen your little ‘deal’ here on the computer discount, and I did the math!”

Me: “Of course.”

I was actually impressed because most of our customers DIDN’T “do the math”, hence the upfront heads-up we gave them.

Customer: “When being locked into a contract for all those months, the money adds up.”

Me: “Yes, to $790.24.”

The old man kept going as if he hadn’t heard me. (Maybe he DIDN’T?)

Customer: “After adding up the monthly fee over that contract—” *looks at his notes* “—it’s quite a big amount!”

Me: “Yeah, I know: $790.24.”

He kept rambling, once AGAIN, as if he wasn’t listening, even though I KNEW he was looking RIGHT AT ME as I spoke!

Customer: “You guys are actually expecting me pay—” *Pauses to look at his notes again*

Me: “Like I said, sir, $790.24.”

Customer: *COMPLETELY ignoring me* “$790.24! That’s nearly double!”

Finally, the codger’s wife sympathetically spoke up.

Customer’s Wife: “Honey, he knows that.”

Customer: “Of course, he knows. I just told him!”

Oh, good grief… The funny thing is, he went through with the sign-up, anyway! I just LOVE time-wasters…

I’m a self-checkout attendant in a grocery store. I can’t tell you how often this happens.

Customer: *Flagging me down* “Ma’am? Miss?”

Me: “Hello! Do you need any help?”

Customer: “It said to take my card out and I’m ready to pay, but nothing’s happening!”

I reach towards the screen and hit the big, glowing, animated PAY button, and the machine immediately starts to process the payment.

Customer: “…”

Me: “Do you need any more help today?”

Customer: *Sheepish* “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Sometimes I’ll give a short spiel about how many people make that mistake and how the register and card reader don’t communicate until they hit the pay button to try to make them feel better, but sometimes I don’t have time. It’s always a little funny to see their mild embarrassment.