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It Takes One Customer To Ruin Your Day  

, , , | Right | December 28, 2019

(I’ve just returned to the sales floor to check on how my coworkers are doing. I see an older woman waiting by the counter and each of my coworkers helping a different customer, so I jump in to help her.)

Me: “Are you ready to check out?”

Customer: “Yes. I don’t understand why it takes three people to help one person.”

(I turn and look at my two coworkers, while standing fairly close, each helping a different customer.)

Me: “I think you misunderstand. Only two of those four people work here.”

Customer: “Yes. I don’t understand why it takes three people to help one person.”

(She punctuated that statement with a look of smug satisfaction, like she had just gotten my goat by repeating herself. I thought I should correct her again, but I know better, and I let her feel like she “won” the exchange.)

She’s Not The Brightest Spark

, , , | Right | December 20, 2019

(I’m pumping gas at a self-serve station. The bugs are out in force tonight, mosquitoes mostly. A woman is pumping gas on the opposite side of the pump I’m using.)

Woman: “I hate these bugs! They need to install bug zappers here!” *swats furiously at her arms, neck, and legs*

Me: *starts laughing a bit* “I don’t think that would end well.”

Woman: “I’m sure it’s just because they are too cheap to buy them. There is no other reason!”

Me: “Same reason you can’t smoke here: gas is flammable.”

Woman: “How would a bug zapper start a fire? There is no flame!”

Me: “I would think the spark that kills the bug would start a fire. Just like a spark is what ignites it in the engine.”

Woman: “You’re just being a smarta**!”

(She finished pumping her gas while swatting more bugs and left in a huff.)


This story is part of the Mosquito roundup!

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The Bieber Falling On Hard Times

, , , , | Right | August 6, 2019

(I work for an online company and help those who sell on the website. This includes taking phone calls and answering emails. I get a gem of a phone call one morning.)

Customer: “My verification isn’t going through. I’ve called in about every day for the last two weeks.”

(Those who want to sell on the website have to go through an identity verification that includes a copy of their driver’s license. It’s not much different than an employer asking for it. Plus, in the shady market of online selling, it’s best to make extra certain.)

Me: “Okay. Let me pull up your case to take a look at any notes those associates may have. I can’t see the documentation as I don’t have permission to see it.”

Customer: “I’ve already attached it to the case. Also, they keep responding in French and the last response said I can’t sell on the website.”

(I find this a little odd, as this team isn’t the one to tell people they can’t sell here anymore, but I look into the case. The customer is being responded to in French and has received a notice saying he can’t sell. Usually, if the verification doesn’t go through, it has something to do with another document they sent us. For example, if we can click and highlight anything on a PDF, we immediately reject it as not being genuine. I find nothing wrong with that document. I pull up the driver’s license and have to do a double-take. The picture for the ID matches that of Justin Bieber. This guy sounds twice the age of Justin Bieber. I put the customer on hold to “look into things.” I get the help of a coworker and we end up finding a website teaching you how to fake a Quebec driver’s license. The picture is that of Justin Bieber. After I decide what to do, I get back on the phone.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t accept this as a valid form of ID.”

Customer: “What do you mean?”

(He must really think I’m stupid.)

Me: “It’s a picture of Justin Bieber.”

Customer: *click*

Can’t Say No To Her Puppy-Dog Eyes

, , , , | Right | February 4, 2019

(I am standing at the front desk of our hotel, getting maintenance reports from the night before, when a lady comes up to the desk, walks right up to me, and says:)

Lady: “I thought this was a no-pet hotel?”

(I am a little shocked because she is maybe a foot away from my face. I back up a couple steps.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am, we are a pet-free hotel.”

(She raises her eyebrows, and cocks her head.)

Lady: “Then why did I just see a f****** dog on my floor?!”

(After asking her what room she’s in, I realize she is three doors down from a frequent guest who is in a wheelchair and has a service dog. The front desk agent and I tell her it’s a service animal. The lady goes off on us that she and her whole group are allergic to dogs and they came to this hotel because we do not allow pets in our hotel. We explain that we cannot deny service animals. There is a little crowd forming in the lobby… including the fourteen-year-old daughter of the guest with the service dog. Trying to end this quickly and quietly, we offer to move the lady rooms, but she refuses and demands that the guest with the dog be thrown out of the hotel for violating the no-pet policy. The daughter walks up to her.)

Daughter: “Excuse me. I’m sorry my dad’s service dog is upsetting you. He lets us know when my dad is starting to have a seizure so we can help him through it. I wish we could change rooms, but we need it because it’s wheelchair accessible.”

(Another guest listening to what’s going on let out a long “Wooooooowwwww” from behind the angry lady. She turned beet red, turned, and walked away. The front desk agent and I talked to the daughter and apologized and hoped she wasn’t angry. The daughter told us it was no problem. The front desk agent and I both told her we wished we could have told the lady off like that.)


This story is part of our Service Animals roundup!

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Fix The Google! Fix All Of The Google!

, , , | Right | December 6, 2018

(I am a scheduler at a busy medical clinic.)

Me: “Good afternoon. This is [My Name]. Thank you for calling [Clinic]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Is this [Doctor]’s office?”

Me: “Yes. Do you need to make an appointment?”

Caller: “How much are your light boxes?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “For light therapy! I Googled light boxes, and [Doctor]’s name came up!”

Me: “We’re a medical clinic. We don’t sell light boxes.”

Caller: “Do you know where I can get one?”

Me: “No.”

Caller: “Well, you need to fix Google, then!”

(I’m pretty sure the doctor in question isn’t even one known for light box therapy!)