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

Customer: “Where the h*** do I plug this guitar in?”

Me: “Oh, you have an electric guitar there? And an amplifier?”

Customer: “Yeah, I just bought this beginner’s all-in-one package from you guys, and when I opened the box, there was a cord missing.”

Me: “Um, if you bought the ‘Strat Pack’, it should come with a six-foot black cable in a plastic bag.”

Customer: “Yeah, I have that. But where do I plug it in?”

Me: “Just plug one end into the guitar near the bottom, and the other end into the amp where it says ‘input’.”

Customer: “No, I got that already. Where do I plug it in?”

Me: “Um… you already have it connected to the amp?”

Customer: “Yeah, now how do I plug it in? There’s no cord!”

Me: *confused* “Um, I don’t think I understand how you can plug in the guitar and not have it plugged in.”

Customer: “It’s plugged into the amp already! The amp is plugged into the wall! How do I plug the GUITAR into the WALL? It’s an ELECTRIC guitar, right?”

Me: “Ohhh! If you already have it plugged in from the guitar to the amp, then it should work already. Did you try turning on the amp and strumming the guitar yet?”

Customer: “That’s not how it works, is it?!”

(I hear fumbling noises in the background, followed by a very loud “TWANG!”)

Customer: “Well, how the h*** did that happen?”

Me: “Got it okay now?”

Customer: *slams phone down with a BANG*

(I remote into computers so I can fix our company’s software. I only fix our company’s software, not general computer problems.)

Me: “Ma’am, it looks like I’m having problems saving this file in your Windows directory. I’m going to need administrative rights. Can you log in as an administrator?”

Customer: “Okay, you have my permission.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “You have my permission. I give you rights!”

Me: “No, I mean, I need access to an administrative account.”

Customer: “You have permission! I told you!”

Me: “Uhh… sorry, ma’am, I don’t have your password. I need you to actually log off of this account and log in as someone else with administrative rights.”

Customer: “Ooohhh…”

(Note: I never forget a face, ever. A man walks into my bank, straight to my desk. He has a look on his face as if he knows exactly who I am. However, I have never seen him before in my life.)

Man: *smiles and sits down at my desk* “Your mother is a dirty w****.”

Me: “E-e-excuse me?!”

Man: “You heard me. A dirty, nasty w****.”

Me: “Sir, first of all, I am certain you don’t know my mother, since she’s dead. Second, you need to leave right now for speaking like that.”

Man: “Wait, is this [Competitor]?”

Me: “No, no it’s not. Please leave.”

Man: *quickly leaves*

(A customer walking out of the theater for “Captain America” with her two kids starts talking to me. She’s about 45 years old.)

Customer: “My goodness, the Nazis were awful people!”

Me: “Yeah.”

Customer: “I’m just glad that terrible Red Skull got what was coming to him.”

Me: “Yeah, it was a pretty sweet ending.”

Customer: “It’s funny. I don’t remember learning about him or Captain America in the history books.”

Me: *thinking she’s joking* “Ha ha, yeah. Weird, right?”

Customer’s Son: *to me* “No, dude. She’s not kidding.”

Customer: “Kidding about what?”

(Embarrassed, her two kids try to walk briskly away from her.)

Customer: *chasing after her kids* “Whaaat?! What is it?!”

Customer: “Can I get a quesadilla with guacamole, but no sour cream? I’m lactose intolerant.”

Me: “You do realize that a quesadilla is just cheese in a flour tortilla, right?”

Customer: “I do. You should pray you never have to live in a world where you can not eat cheese without incurring the wrath of your own bowels.”