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It Should Be Your Bread And Butter

, , , | Right | November 16, 2017

Customer: “Hey, where are your groceries?”

Coworker: “Sir, this is an appliance store; we have none.”

Customer: “What do you mean?! What kind of store doesn’t even carry a loaf of bread?!”

(We have also been asked for power tools, televisions, beds, and auxiliary cables for music.)

Insert Title Here

, , , | Right | November 15, 2017

(I work in an auto shop.)

Me: “Thank you for calling. My name is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, the check payment you guys sent me for my car bounced, and the funds were reversed.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, I do apologize about that. Let me take a look on your file.”

(I look at the file and it appears that she only gave us an application to get a title and not an actual title.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, it looks like when we received your title at the yard, it wasn’t actually a title; it was an application. We tried contacting you to owner-retain the vehicle and send it back to your house, but you never answered or returned our calls.”

Customer: “I didn’t receive any of your calls. The agency that referred me to you said that the application would be sufficient.”

Me: “When we took down your file, ma’am, we asked if you had a title. You said that you did. So, unfortunately, at this time all we can do is contact the yard and send the vehicle back to you, since your end of the verbal contract wasn’t completed.”

Customer: “That’s bulls***! I’m going to call the local police and tell them that I never gave you the car and that you stole it.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, you would be charged with filing a false police report, since we have records of you agreeing to have the car picked up with a title.”

Customer: *click*

Tell Her Where You Can Stuff That Penguin

, , , , , | Friendly | November 15, 2017

(I am a bystander to this lovely scene in December. Christmas is fast approaching and, as such, most shops have put out tempting displays near the checkouts to fool us all into buying things we neither need nor want. I am waiting in line with my trolley when a man and his daughter join the line behind me. The daughter, about eight years old, spies the stuffed penguin toys.)

Daughter: “Oh, look, Daddy! Penguins!”

Dad: “Yes, they’re very nice.”

Daughter: “Can I have one?”

Dad: “No.”

Daughter: “But they’re so sweet! Please?”

Dad: “I said no.”

Daughter: “Pleeease? I’ll look after it!”

Dad: “You already have a bear in the trolley. You don’t need another toy. You can either put the bear back and have the penguin, or keep the bear on its own.”

Daughter: “But I want both of them! I’ll take care of them!”

Dad: *seriously annoyed now* “I said no. Pick one now or you don’t get either.”

Daughter: “But Dad! I’ll take really good care of them both!” *begins annoying whiny tactics of attrition, including deliberate sobbing*

(At this point, a middle-aged woman has joined the next queue over. To my horror, she leans over and says:)

Interfering Woman: “Oh, that penguin needs to go to a good home, doesn’t he?”

Daughter: “Yes!” *sensing an ally, her tears immediately dry up*

Dad: *gritting his teeth* “I’m sure all these penguins will go to a good home. Our home’s a bit full, isn’t it, [Daughter]? What with all the toys you already have?”

Interfering Woman: *talking to daughter* “Oh, but this penguin would be much happier with you, wouldn’t it?”

Daughter: “Yes!”

Interfering Woman: “Don’t listen to Daddy; he’s being mean! I bet Mr. Penguin would love to come home with you!”

Dad: *somehow barely keeping his temper* “She has lots of toys already.”

Interfering Woman: “But she wants this one! Don’t you? Daddies are so mean, aren’t they?”

(Around this point I had reached the cashier, and I paid for my groceries as swiftly as possible, and got the h*** out of there. A tense silence had befallen everyone within hearing distance who wasn’t directly involved. I sometimes remember the whole scene, and try to think of ways I could’ve shut that woman up without causing a violent ruckus, but I’m at a loss. As a parent, I would’ve bought a penguin, put both the penguin and the bear in the charity box on the way out, and given my daughter a hearty talking to when we got home. She really was the most whiny child of her age I’ve ever heard. As a bystander, I honestly couldn’t think of anything sensible to do.)

A Hail Of Outrageous Requests

, , , , , | Right | November 15, 2017

(I work at a theme park. It’s a particularly busy day and I’m working at a ride that includes live animals, such as giraffes and rhinos. It has just started thundering and hailing, and we have to cease operation, as have all the other outdoor rides in the park. Most people are leaving the queue to get somewhere dry. I am standing in the hail, dripping wet, only wearing my uniform, which consists of shorts and a polo shirt. I am already on the edge of tears when a customer fights her way to the front of the line and starts yelling.)


Me: “I am very sorry, madam, but under these weather conditions it is not possible to operate the ride safely.”

Customer: “It is just a stupid truck going around; that can’t be dangerous. You’re just making excuses!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but this experience includes live animals such as rhinos and giraffes, and we can’t possibly account for their behaviour during this storm.”


Me: “I’m sorry, but all of our other rides are going to be shut down due to the weather. It is not safe to operate under these conditions.”

Customer: “THEN MAKE IT STOP!”

(At this point my team leader comes over, sees that I’m covered in red spots from the hail, sends me inside the control box to warm up, and takes over dealing with the angry customer. My coworkers stare at me, bewildered.)

Coworker: “What the h*** was that about?”

Me: “I’m not quite sure, but I think someone just told me to control the weather.”

Scar Issue

, , , , | Right | November 15, 2017

(I have a particularly nasty scar on my neck where I had several lymph nodes removed for a biopsy two years ago. I’m proud of this scar, because those lymph nodes determined I was in an early stage of cancer and got me the treatment I needed before it could metastasize. I hear all manner of comments on this scar, but this is by far the most outrageous.)

Customer: “What’d you do there?” *gestures on his own neck*

Me: “Oh, it’s a biopsy scar.”

Customer: “That looks terrible. You know, one time I had a scar like that right behind my ear. I went into a great plastic surgeon and he fixed it all up right there in his office.”

Me: “Awesome.”

Customer: “I could give you his name. It’s a shame; you’re such a pretty girl. You shouldn’t have to live with that for the rest of your life.”

Me: “No, thank you.”

Customer: “Really. It’s pretty simple.”

Me: “Sir, with all due respect, I am very proud of this scar. I believe scars tell stories, and this is the best one I’ve got. For the record, I asked for this scar to look the way it does. I think it’s beautiful, so I’ll say again: I’m really not interested.”

(He took his groceries and left, but I see him all the time, and after this incident, he’s avoided my line AND making eye contact.)