How To Lose Your Marbles In Style

, | | Right | June 17, 2008

(Our store used to have a completely gutted 1957 Chevy truck as a center piece. It was part of the store’s trademark. Walking down the store past the truck, I am stopped by an old man.)

Me: “Sir?”

Old Man: “Young lady, how much are you selling this truck for?”

Me: “Sorry sir, the truck isn’t for sale. It’s owned by [company].”

Old Man: “I’ll give you 100 dollars for it.”

Me: “Sir, the truck is not for sale. I apologize.”

Old Man: “All right…I’ll give you two hundred!”

Me: “Sir, the truck is not for sale. And even if it was, it would be for a LOT more than 200 dollars.”

Old Man: “Yes, I suppose you’re right… SAY! SOMEONE STEALING, LOOK!” *points behind me*

(As I turn to look behind me, the man climbs the crates next to the truck, opens the driver’s seat door and gets behind the wheel.)

Old Man: “WHOOOOOOOOO-HAW! CAN’T CATCH ME NOW, CAN YOU!” *swings steering wheel around and starts to make gun noises* “PEW PEW! PEWW PEW!”

(Mall Security ended up being called, after the old man was “trying” to run us over. I wish I was joking.)

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What Happens When You Assume

| | Right | June 17, 2008

(I worked at a shop that did passport photos. There was a fifteen minute wait on the pictures, so people normally just left and came back…)

Me: “That’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Customer: “I’ll come back. Do you need my name?”

Me: “No, I don’t need it.”

Customer: “You little snot. It’s ’cause there’s a black man in here!”

Me: “Sir, I am not racist. ”

Customer: “Oh, sure you’re not, you racist snot.”

Me: “Sir, I have your picture. That’s why I do not need your name.”

(The customer walked out and I never saw him again.)

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Now That’s What I Call Love

| | Right | June 16, 2008

Caller: “Yeah, I bought this tattoo kit from you guys the other day, and there’s stuff missing from it.”

Me: “Stuff missing? Like what?”

Caller: “Well, for starters, there’s no book with it… and I don’t know how to assemble it.”

Me: “Book? What book? We don’t have books. We just sell tattoo inks, needles, machines… and assembly? Is there something not assembled in your kit?”

Caller: “Yeah, it’s all in pieces… it’s a piece of crap!”

Me: “Pieces? Did it get damaged during shipment to you?”

Caller: “No, it’s just a bunch of pieces. There’s a power supply, foot pedal, a couple of tattoo machines… but I gotta put it together myself. That’s bulls***! I don’t know what I’m doing! You guys should have assembled everything for me before shipping.”

Me: “You want us to assemble your tattoo shop for you? Wait a sec… Did you say you don’t know what you’re doing?”

Caller: “That’s right. I’ve never tattooed before. That’s why I thought there’d be a book with the kit.”

Me: “You mean like: step one, put a picture on the skin; step two, dip the needle in ink; step three, tattoo the ink into the skin?”

Caller: “Yeah, that’s it! Why didn’t you guys give me that kinda book when I bought the kit!?”

Me: “So, how are you expecting to learn to tattoo? Are you not doing a tattoo apprenticeship at a real tattoo shop, where they teach you to do this sort of thing?”

Caller: “Nah… I just figured I’d start off tattooing my wife until I can figure it out…”

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No, Thank YOU!

| | Right | June 15, 2008

Customer: “You have shoe with knife on bottom?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Customer: “Shoe with knife on bottom!”

Me: “Do you mean ice skates?”

Customer: “Yes, skate!”

Me: “Yes, we do sell ice skates.”

Customer: “NO! You have skate?”

Me: “Yes, we do.”

Customer: “So you have shoe with knife on bottom?”

Me: “Yes, we do.”

Customer: “Thank you!”

Me: “You’re welcome–”

Customer: “Thank you!”

Me: “You’re wel–”

Customer: “Thank you!”

*click*

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Okay, That Was A Little Mean

| | Right | June 14, 2008

(Our store was pretty dead on this night; no one came in for at least half an hour before closing, but like good employees we kept the doors unlocked until our registers read 8 o’clock on the dot. I lock the doors, and five minutes later, a woman walks up to the door.)

Customer: *pulls on door, notices it’s locked, pulls harder*

Me: “I’m sorry, we’re closed. But we’ll be open at nine tomorrow.”

Customer: “What the h***?”

Me: “Ma’am, we closed five minutes ago. I’m sorry, but our hours are posted.”

Customer: “This is insane, it’s 7:59! You shouldn’t lock the doors so early.”

Me: “Our registers show that it’s 8:07–” (I look at my watch and my cell phone) “–and I’ve got 8:08. I’m sorry, we open at nine tomorrow.”

Customer: “I just need a few things! It won’t take long.”

Me: “Our registers are closed, so there’s no money in them. You can come back tomorrow at nine. Even if it was 7:59, it takes more than one minute to shop and check out.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I just need a few things.”

Me: “Fine.”

(I unlock the doors to let her in; my coworker finishes closing the registers. The woman runs around the store for ten minutes, grabbing several things that probably could have waited until morning, and plops them down on the register.)

Coworker: *smiles* “Did you find everything you needed?”

Customer: “Yes, thanks.”

Coworker: “Unfortunately, our registers have been closed for 20 minutes and I can’t ring the sale after hours. Would you like me to hold it for you until tomorrow?”

(The customer’s jaw drops. I go to hold the door open for her.)

Me: “We open at nine.”

(Coworker and I high-five.)

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