Unfiltered Story #124599

, , , | Unfiltered | October 30, 2018

(I work in a call center that provides technical support for several large clients. My caller works for a cruise line, and uses a computer every day.)

Me: Thank you for calling the service desk, how may I help you?

Caller: I need help, my computer is dead.

Me: Okay. Can you go into some more detail? What is it doing?

Caller: It isn’t doing anything, it’s just a black screen.

(At this point, I have an inkling of the issue, but I can’t believe that it would be what I’m thinking, so I ask for more information.)

Me: What was it doing before it went black?

Caller: I was in Outlook, and it froze, and I couldn’t get it to do anything, not even a CtrlAltDel to get to the Task Manager. I called IT and spoke with [other tech], who told me to press and hold the power button on the computer until the screen went dark. I did that, and now nothing is happening!

Me: Ah, I think I know what the problem is. Can you please press the power button on the computer again?

(The caller does, and the computer boots.)

Caller: Oh, it’s at the loading screen…I can log in…and Outlook is working now! Thank you so much, I really didn’t want to have to get a new computer!

(I honestly couldn’t believe that someone who works with a computer every day doesn’t know that you have to manually turn back on the computer if it gets powered off. It took every ounce of self control I had to wait until the caller had disconnected before I started giggling.)

Unfiltered Story #120930

, , , | Unfiltered | September 13, 2018

As a requirement, we’re supposed to keep asking questions until we’re able to determine the exact system and exact issue that the person is having, because sometimes even the same family system will have different ways of resolving the same issue.

Me: Thank you for calling Nintendo, my name is Marnelli, may I have a name and email address for you?

Consumer: My name is Maya and can I give you my phone number cus I don’t have an email.

Me: Sure.

Cons: *spouts out phone number relatively quick*

Me: Oh.. I’m sorry could you repeat that one more time please?

Cons: *says number at almost the same speed*

Me: Okay. How may I help you today?

Cons: My Nintendo is broke.

Me: Uh.. okay, what exactly do you mean by “broke” ?

Cons: It’s broke! It got dropped and now it won’t turn on.

Me: Oh, okay. Which system was it?

Cons: What?

Me: Which Nintendo system was it?

Cons: I don’t know! A DS?

Me: Alright, do you know what kind of DS it is? does it say 3DS?

Cons: I don’t know!!

Me: Uh… So on the back of that system… does it say Nintendo DS? DS lite?

Cons: I don’t fuckin’ know!

Me: *small, questioning hum as I attempt to look something up*

Cons: LOOK BITCH, YOU’RE GETTING ON MY NERVES, END THE CALL, HANG UP THE FUCKING PHONE *hangs up*

Me: *stunned, pauses* …ok.

Open-Minded About Being Closed

, , , , | Right | September 15, 2017

(I work at a store that stays open until 10 pm each night. On this day, it’s around 9:58 pm, my manager and I are the only ones still in the store, we’ve cleaned up, and we are walking to lock the front door, keys in hand, when a car pulls into a space outside and an entire family gets out and runs up to the door.)

Father: “Wait! Wait! Are you still open?”

(I look at my manager who, to my annoyance, just shrugs.)

Manager: “Technically, yes, we are.”

Father: “Great! We only need a few things!”

(Unable to do anything now, we let them in and watch as their kids begin destroying the aisles we have just organized while the parents take their time grabbing things and tossing them into a hand basket. Some time later, they come up to the register, which my manager has reopened for them. I’m bagging.)

Father: “So, when do you guys normally close?”

Manager: “We actually are closed now.”

Father: “What!? That’s impossible! You said you weren’t closed when we came in!”

Manager: “That’s because you came in just before 10 pm, when we do close.”

(The father gives us both a blank look.)

Manager: “You’ve been in here for almost 30 minutes.”

(More blank looks.)

Mother: “Honey, time doesn’t stop while you’re in here.”

(Another moment passes as the father looks at his wife, the clock on his phone, then at the manager in shocked silence.)

Father: “Well… why didn’t you say that before we came in? If I’d known that, we’d have gone to a different store!”

(He grumbles as we ring up his purchases and his wife corrals their kids, getting in a final jab as they leave.)

Father: “Next time just tell us to go elsewhere!”

Manager: “…but I was trying to AVOID that very argument!”

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You’ve Been Brandied A Problem Customer

, , , , , | Right | September 4, 2017

(I work at a small local store that specializes in multiple types of gourmet booze [which basically translates to any brand and type you wouldn’t find in a normal grocery store]. One day I get that customer we all know and love: a barely 20-something-year-old with no ID, who can’t understand why we won’t sell any booze to him. He gets verbal, but after my manager steps in and basically tells him to either produce ID or talk to the police, the guy leaves. Fast forward to my shift the next day.)

Customer: “Bottle of [Expensive Brandy] please.”

(I look up and am taken aback to see it’s the same guy again.)

Me: “Do you have your ID this time?”

Customer: “It’s in my car. What do you mean ‘this time’?”

Me: “Sir, we went over this yesterday. If we think you’re underage, we need to see your ID.”

Customer: “…D*** it, I didn’t think you were smart enough to remember me!”

(He storms out and my shift continues without further drama. Fast forward to next weekend and…)

Customer: “Hey, you got any [Same Expensive Brandy] in?”

(Yep, same guy, except this time he’s wearing a hat that’s pulled down low to shadow his face.)

Me: “That depends; do you have your ID with you this time?”

Customer: “I’ve never been in here before!”

Me: “Sir, you spoke to me less than seven days ago.”

Customer: “…you still remember that?”

Me: “It’s hard to forget you when you keep coming in here and trying the same thing, over and over again. Not to mention that, even if I didn’t, the rules aren’t going to change. You want your brandy, you need ID.”

(More cursing and swearing as the guy stormed out again. Later on the store owner got a complaint letter saying he needed to fire the “smart-a**es who keep ruining everyone’s weekend.”)

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