Can’t Transfer Through Their Thick Skull

| Rogue River, OR, USA | Extra Stupid, Geography, Technology

(I am the receptionist for a company that sells moisture meters. When a customer calls, they get an automated message saying the name of the company and what we offer before they reach me.)

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. How may I direct your call?”

Caller: “Hi, I have a tree in my front yard that I need removed.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I believe you have the wrong number. We offer moisture meters for wood and concrete here.”

Caller: “Okay. Well can’t you just transfer me to someone who can help?”

Me: “I’m sorry but I don’t have anyone here that can help you. You’ll have to call a different company.”

Caller: “Okay. But can’t you just TRANSFER me to someone who can help.”

Me: “I don’t have any way of doing that.”

Caller: “Well, I have a tree in my yard that I need to have removed. Who do I need to call?”

Me: “I’m not sure because we sell moisture meters for wood and concrete here.”

Caller: “Well, do you know of a company that I can call?”

(Obviously this lady doesn’t understand that she’s called a business and I’m getting nowhere so I change the approach.)

Me: “Where are you located?”

Caller: *some city far away from where I am*

Me: “Okay, we’re located in Rogue River, Oregon, and I’m not familiar with your town so I don’t know who to direct you to.”

Caller: “OKAY. But can’t you just TRANSFER me to someone who can?!”

Me: “Ma’am. I am the receptionist for a company that sells moisture meters. I am not an operator that can direct you to any other number.”

Caller: “Ohhhhhhhhh. Okay. So then transfer me to the operator. Thank you!”

Unable To See Shades Of Grey

| USA | Crazy Requests, Extra Stupid

(I’ve been a digital designer for quite a while now and surprisingly have little to no issue with customers. This particular customer had been extremely pleasant up until I was finalizing their product.)

Me: “All right, so, here’s the finished product! As soon as payment is sent, I can—”

Customer: “No. No, no, no!”

Me: “Is something wrong?”

Customer: “The grey! The grey is way too grey! It was fine before. What did you do?!”

Me: “Sir, I can assure you that between coloring the lines and now, I have not changed the colors.”

Customer: “You made the grey much too grey! Fix it!”

(I work for around 30 minutes using various saturation and colors to make it less “grey” for the customer. I eventually got frustrated and accidentally sent them the first image I had shown them on accident.)

Me: *realizing what I have done* “Oh, pardon me, sir, I think I sent you—”

Customer: “Yes! Perfect! This is what I wanted! Was that so hard?!”

Me: “Yes… Of course, sir.”

(He sent the payment and was perfectly happy with his “altered” product!)

Memories Of Happier Christmases

| USA | Holidays, Theme Of The Month

Me: *answering the phone* “Happy Holidays. Thank you for calling [Company]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “How many times a day do you have to say that? Do you have a script or something in front of you?”

Me: “No, no script.”

Caller: “So you just have that memorized?”

Me: “Yep.”

Caller: “Wow!”

Parental Control Versus Gun Control

| USA | Bizarre

(I work in the corporate office for one of the largest firearms manufacturers in the US. I overhear this from one of our service technicians, and to this day I really wish I had heard the customer’s end of this call:)

Tech: “Sir, you need to put your mother on the phone, please.”

Tech: “I know you’re frustrated, but this gun is registered to your mother, and we can’t work on it unless we talk to her.”

Tech: “Are you even old enough to own a firearm, sir?”

(Pause.)

Tech: “Please stop crying, sir…”

Totally Bugging Out

| USA | Bizarre, Pets & Animals

(For the last few minutes, I’ve noticed people acting strangely towards me.)

Customer: “Hello-”

Me: “Hello, what can I do for you?” *smile*

Customer: *eyes bug out* “Um. Ah. Never mind.” *practically runs*

(I take out a small mirror to inspect my face, thinking I have some food for lunch left on it. Nothing. Bemused, I shrug and continue what I’m doing.)

Customer: “Hello, may I get a printout of my account?”

Me: “Of course, ma’am.”

(The customer eyes me weirdly, but I ignore the look. Then as I look down to type, I notice something MOVING on my shirt. It’s a beetle, as black as my shirt. I’m deathly afraid of bugs.)

Me: “Ahhh! Help! Help! Ahhh!”

(The customer and my coworkers stared as I frantically jumped around, swiping at the front of my shirt. The manager came out to see what I was screaming about, and I finally got it off. To this day since then, people call me the Bug-Brained Boy!)

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