Da, Is Union of Soviet Socialist Retirees

| Right | March 12, 2008

(I work every summer in a beach shop in Florida. One morning a man had come in and bought a beach chair, and returned after a few hours with his family.)

Customer: “I would like to return this chair.”

Me: “Of course. Do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No, I just went to the beach. Why would I keep the receipt?”

Me: “Is there a reason why you are returning the chair?”

Customer: “It’s broken.”

(The chair was soaked with water, coated with sand, and has a hole in the seat from what looks like a footprint on the cushion.)

Me: “I am sorry sir, but we cannot accept used, broken items for return.”

Customer: “What! I didn’t break it!”

Me: “I am sorry sir, but without a receipt it still cannot be returned.”

Customer: “Son of a b*tch! You hear that kids? This Russian b*tch is going to f*ck up our vacation!”

Me: “…Russian? I live here.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me! I hear that accent.”

Me: “…What accent?”

Customer: “THERE! You just did it. No one talks like that in the Northeast.”

Me: “…I’m a Southerner. You’re in the South.”

Customer: “Whatever, you piece of racist sh*t!”

(The man left only after he threw the chair at a clothes rack. Quite the job experience for a 15 year old.)

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Sorry, The Teleporter’s On The Fritz Again

| Right | March 11, 2008

(A customer phones in to make a payment on their financing account.)

Me: “How may I help you?”

Customer: “I’d like to make a payment on my account.”

(I get the customer’s information and tell them how much their due payment is…)

Me: “And did you want to pay with Visa or Mastercard?”

Customer: “Cash.”

Me: “You have to come into the store to pay cash, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, I do?”

Me: “…”

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Time To Fire The Marketing Department

| Right | March 10, 2008

(I work at a large electronics retail chain, the largest in the world, that has very large lighted signs on the outside of their buildings, an easily recognizable color scheme, and million-dollar highly polished TV commercials.)

(I was standing near computer software, towards the BACK of the store, when a customer walked straight down the center aisle, passing all the other departments and products, and right up to me. He opened his mouth, paused for a second, and asked me:)

Customer: “What store is this?”

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Change Begins On The Home Front

, , | Right | March 10, 2008

(I work at a Landscaping Supply company. Selling dirt, rock, compost, etc. I work in the office, answering phones and helping people work out how much material they need for their jobs. A lady came in and filled up a few small containers with cobble-rocks and wanted to know how much she owed, so I went outside to look at her
product.)

Me: “Hmm. Looks like three cubic feet. We’ll go inside and ring you up!” *starts walking back inside*

Lady: *doesn’t move*

Me: *stops by the door* “Is there something else I can help you with, ma’am?”

Lady: “Well. I watched on the Discovery Channel that men are better with visual volume than women. So if you can get one of the guys to look at my materials, I’d appreciate it.”

(At this point I’m absolutely floored. I am a victim of a lot of sexism with my line of work, but from ANOTHER WOMAN? Give me a break! Forget that I’ve been doing this for five years and approved by the county with a huge certificate on the back wall of the office, lady!)

Me: “Sure. Give me one moment.” *steps inside, pulls one of the random boys aside* “Can you look at this lady’s load?”

Male Coworker: “…didn’t you look at it?”

Me: “Apparently because I have boobs I can’t tell visual volume, so can you just make her happy?”

Male Coworker: “Sure, how much did you say?”

Me: “Three cubic feet.”

Male Coworker: “Thanks.”

(Basically, he goes out there and tells her the same exact thing. She comes in, and doesn’t even apologize for causing the trouble, pays for the material and pikes out without another word).

 

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Of All The Times To Dial A Wrong Number

| Right | March 9, 2008

(Okay, so I was answering the phone and this guy calls us instead of the number he means to…)

Me: “Hello?”

Him: “Hey baby.”

Me: “What?”

Him: “I’ve got the stuff for tonight, are you ready for it?”

Me: “Um, WHAT?”

Him: “You know what, babe…”

Me: “I think you have the wrong number…”

Him: “Oh good lord, I’m sorry! BYE!” *click*

(Me and my mother laughed about that one for a good 5 minutes.)

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