I’m the manager of a concession stand in an amusement park. We have hot dogs that are much larger than your average one; each one is a foot long. We call them Bubba dogs. A customer is staring at the menu, holding up the line for everyone else while her family stands silently.

Guest: “What’s a Bubba dog?”

Me: “That’s our footlong, all-beef hot dog! They’re in that case right there; you can see them!”

Guest: “But how big are they?”

Me: “A foot long, ma’am.”

Guest: *Stares* “So, how big is that?”

Me: *Faltering* “Um, about this big?”

I hold my hands a rough distance apart. The guest’s mother and husband are looking exasperated at this point, and each of them chimes in.

Mother: “It’s twelve inches, dear.”

Husband: “Honey, she just said it’s a foot!”

Guest: “Listen, it’s math! Math was never my strong point!”

I have no idea what to do so I weakly gesture, again, to the clear glass case right next to us with the Bubba dogs in it. The guest looks at them and obviously just now realizes her obliviousness.

Guest: “Oh, that’s too big! Just give me a regular hot dog.”

After they received their food and walked away, I could still hear her protesting to her family that “math was never her strong point.”

We have three registers at the box office, but depending on how busy or not busy it is, we often only have one or two open and put “This Register is Closed” signs at the ones not in use. It’s a Monday in the middle of Autumn, and our projected numbers are pretty abysmal, so I’m the only person working at the box office today. The other registers are closed and have the signs marking them as such.

A customer comes in, looks at me, and then proceeds to one of the closed registers.

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am. That register is actually closed. But if you want to come on over here, I can help you.”

Customer: “Oh, no, that’s okay. This one is fine.”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, that register is closed. But I can help you right over here.”

Customer: “But I’m already here. So this one’s fine.”

Me: “Unfortunately, my register is the only one that’s open at this time. I can’t ring you up at that register because it’s not on and there’s no money in it.”

Customer: *Completely ignoring what I say* “One ticket for [Movie].”

Me: “Okay. But I have to ring you up at my register. And we have assigned seating at this theater, so I’ll need you to look at the monitor at my register.”

The customer doesn’t budge.

Me: “Ma’am?”

Customer: “I said, ‘One ticket for [Movie].’”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I understand. But the register you’re standing at is not open.”

The customer is ignoring me and becoming agitated.

Customer: “Why aren’t you here?!”

Me: “Ma’am… that register is closed.”

Customer: *Suddenly exploding* “WHY THE F*** DIDN’T YOU SAY SO EARLIER?!”

I then had to complete the transaction by walking back and forth between the woman and my register several times, because she refused to walk the seven or so feet over to my register. And of course, she couldn’t see the screen to pick out her seat, which further complicated things. And this is not an isolated incident.

I don’t know what it is about movie theaters, but people who come in seem to completely lose their minds when it comes to how the registers work. Either they go to closed registers and refuse to move, or they form multiple lines at the same register, or they completely ignore the line and try to skip to the front. It’s like all basic common sense goes right out the door the instant they walk in.

Related:
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 15
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 14
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 13
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 12
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 11

I am finishing up a transaction with a customer.

Me: “We will also email a copy for your records. The email address we have on file for you is [email address]. Is that still correct?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “You should expect to receive the email once processing is complete, which will be twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Caller: “Can you email me a copy of this?”

I live in a second-floor condo when this happens. One night, I’m watching a film and having a couple of beers. At 23:30, the outside doorbell rings.

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Police, open up now!”

Something isn’t right. It’s been a quiet night.

Me: “One minute, please. I’ll come downstairs.”

I walk down two flights of stairs. I open the door, confused, to find four police officers.

Me: “Can I help?”

Officer: “Is this 17 [Location]?”

Me: “Yes?”

Officer: “Open, mate, we have business to do.”

I stay where I am and hand him my police ID. It has my picture and name and says, “Sworn in [date one month ago]”.

Officer: “Oh, hello. We haven’t been introduced, I’m Sergeant [Officer].”

Me: “Reserve [My Surname]. What’s going on, Sarge?”

Officer: “A hoax emergency call was placed for an ambulance to this address. Do you know anything?”

Me: “Huh? A hoax ambulance call? Not me.”

Officer: “Is there anyone else on the property?”

Me: “My roommate. Speak to him if you like; he doesn’t know much English. What’s the address again?”

Officer: “17 [Location] Boulevard, [postcode].”

I’m annoyed. He’s got the wrong address; a cop should know the area. It also isn’t how I planned to introduce myself to a superior officer.

Me: “Sergeant [Officer], this condo block is [Location] Plaza, not [Location] Boulevard. Can I help you find [Location] Boulevard?”

Police: “Please.”

Me: “Street over there. Odd numbers are on the left.”

Clarity, people. Google Maps is there for a reason.

Me: “Morning. This is [My Name] from [Medical Clinic]. How can I help?”

Caller: “I was wondering if the pelvis ultrasound is bulk-billed?”

The caller is a man so I assume it is for his partner.

Me: “Okay. Are they pregnant?”

Caller: “No.”

He pauses and then speaks the rest over my answer.

Caller: “It’s looking for a cyst. For her pelvis.”

Me: “Lovely. So yes, it is bulk-billed.”

Silence.

Me: “Did you want to book?”

Caller: “Is it bulk-billed?”

Me: “Yes, it is. Like I said.”

I experience a minor twinge of annoyance, but I wave it off as my own issue and not their fault.

Caller: “Good, good. What do you have available?”

Me: “Earliest is Thursday.”

Today is Saturday.

Caller: “Do you have anything Monday?”

Twinge #2.

Me: “No. Earliest is Thursday.”

Caller: “Tuesday?”

Twinge #3.

Me: “That’s a public holiday.”

Caller: “Okay, okay. What times do you have?”

Me: “Morning, I have 9:00, 9:20, 9:40, 10:00, 10:20, 10:40, 11:00, 12:00, or 12:30. Afternoon, I have 1:30, 2:00, 2:30, 3:00, 3:30, or 4:00.”

Caller: “Can we have 11:30?”

Twinge #4.

Me: “Sorry, I didn’t offer that time. It is unavailable.”

I say this with a small laugh and sympathy.

Caller: “How about 10:30?”

Twinge #5. I excitedly offer:

Me: “10:40?”

Caller: “Yes. Ah. No. Can we have 4:00?”

Me: “Sure! Now, could you tell her please to drink one litre of water between 2:30 and 3:00, and not go to the bathroom?”

Caller: “So, we need to drink some water to come 3:30?”

TWINGE #6! Where did he get 3:30 from?

Me: *Customer service voice* “No. Please drink one litre. Between 2:30 and 3:00. Hold. And we’ll see you at 4:00 for the appointment.”

I breathed deeply when the call ended.