I sold hosiery at a major department store.
Many, many times I had customers expose their naked a**es… on the sales floor… in front of everyone… to ask me:
Customer: “Can you read the tag on these and tell me what brand they are?”
You know, the tag adhered to their sweaty hindquarters.
I’m a concierge. A man angrily comes over to me accompanied by a woman.
Guest: “The credenza is too far away from the foot of the bed!”
A credenza is a small table, common in hotel rooms. He isn’t angry, like normal ”I’m pissed!’ angry; he is TOP-OF-THE- LUNGS-SCREAMING-PISSED angry.
In customer service, you don’t react to upset guests; you just ask what you can do for the guest.
Me: “What exactly is the problem? I would love to help you.”
Guest: “You can get me two more tables, or you can f*** her.” *Points to his lady friend*
Me: “Not into girls, sir, but I can get you more tables. But what exactly is the problem?”
Guest: *Surprisingly calmly* “I like to rest my a** on a table in between f***s.”
Me: “Sir, I can get housekeeping to bring you two more tables, or you can just turn your table longways. It’s four feet long. You can rest your a** up there.”
Guest: “Good idea!” *Runs off*
I saw him at checkout the next day. No weirdness. We chatted about all kinds of things, and he gave me an $80 tip.
A lot of couples come into the cinema to get some special sexy time, as they are young and can’t get their jiggy on at home. We can always tell as they are usually between seventeen and nineteen, they look nervous, and they ask which films are popular and then choose the ones that no one is watching.
One day, this couple comes in, and we go through the usual bit of, “Is this film any good?” They go see “Match Point”, a boring film about tennis. Twenty minutes later, they come back looking extremely angry, and they complain, demanding a refund.
Customers: “The screen is too busy!”
My grandmother had five children. Her middle child, my aunt, was always a little different from the other four. She would often point out how she was the only blonde out of the five of them, and when the family got together, she seemed to remember her childhood differently than everyone else. The story about how one sister got in trouble for peeing in grandma’s dresser drawer but it turned out that it was [Aunt] who did it? That never happened. Grandpa never let them have a sandbox because they were unsanitary? There are many pictures of her playing in the sandbox he’d built in the backyard.
One of the things she liked to bring up a lot was the fact that she was the only child who wasn’t breastfed. Everything that happened to her in life was because she was bottle-fed. Bad grades? The bottle. Failed marriage? Breastmilk would have fixed that. Depression? Only people who were on the bottle can have that.
One evening, while the family was gathered for one reason or another, [Aunt] was once again loudly blaming all her woes on my grandmother’s choice to not breastfeed her when my grandmother finally had enough. There, in the middle of the living room for all to see, she suddenly ripped her shirt open, exposing herself.
Grandmother: “Would you like to start now?!”
[Aunt] never brought it up again.
This is a text correspondence with a new client.
Client: “The logo will be a pig trying to catch a hotdog in its bum.”
Me: “That’s pretty racy, haha.”
Client: “I meant ‘bun’! D*** kegs!”
Me: “?”
Client: “D*** keys! Ugh, d*** it!”
