Iraq, Land Of Crappy Return Policies

, , , | Right | August 22, 2008

Customer: “Hi, I wanted to return this set of knives and your cashier wouldn’t let me.”

Me: “When was the original date of purchase, ma’am?”

(She hands me a receipt.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry ma’am. Since you bought these over 60 days ago, we won’t be able to refund your money.”

Customer: “But I don’t want them anymore. Just take them back and give me my money.”

Me: “I’m not able to do that, ma’am.”

Customer: “But I don’t want the god-d*** knives! Take them!”

Me: “Ma’am, it is not in my power to do a return for you.”

Customer: “Well, then get someone who can, god-d*** it!”

Me: “Ma’am, you don’t understand. After 60 days, the system locks out the transaction. It is in nobody’s power to refund you.”

Customer: “You god-d*** incompetent pieces of s***! I don’t want these f****** knives, and I want you to take them back now!”

Me: “There is nothing I can do to help you, ma’am.”

Customer: “It’s because of f****** fascists like you that we’re at war in Iraq! Do you realize that? THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

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One Last Parting Shot, Part 2

, , , , | Right | August 20, 2008

Me: Thank you for calling [Tech Support]. How may I assist you?

Customer: “Yes! Finally! There is something wrong with my cellphone.”

Me: “All right, ma’am. I’ll be more than glad to help you with that. What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “I can’t call out.”

Me: “Ma’am, it appears that everything is working just fine from both ends. What exactly is happening when you try to call out from your phone?”

Customer: “Absolutely nothing! Jesus, are you stupid! I already told you that.”

Me: “Right… let’s try this: turn your phone off and then back on. Maybe you just need to reset it.”

Customer: *resets phone* “Okay, that’s done… and it’s still not working.”

Me: “This is very strange. I can’t imagine why it would not be working. Try this for me, dial a number out and let’s see if you get an error message now that the phone has been reset.”

Customer: “You stupid little b****! THERE IS NO F***ING DIAL TONE!”

Me: “Erm, excuse me?”

Customer: “How can I dial a number if I don’t have a dial tone?”

Me: “Ma’am, the phone you’re using is wireless. It’s not going to have a dial tone.”

Customer: “You really think I’m that stupid? My last cell phone had a dial tone!”

Me: “I assure you, it did not.”

Customer: “Listen to me, I have been around a lot longer than you. I think I know how to work a g**d*** phone! Who the h*** do you think you are?!”

Me: “Humor me, please! Just dial a number, any number and see what happens when you hit send.”

Customer: “Whatever!” *presses buttons on phone*

(She has the phone on speaker, and I can obviously hear that the call has gone through.)

Customer: “Well… I… the last… F*** YOU!” *click

 

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Oh, Bite Me

, , | Right | August 19, 2008

Me: “Welcome to [Bank]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I need to check my balance on my account.”

Me: “Okay, sir. Can I get your customer number?”

Customer: *gives number*

Me: “Okay, sir. You have a balance of $513.26, and we need to get $360.00 of this paid off immediately to avoid referral to debt collection.”

Customer: “Screw you. I’m no over-stayer. Unlock my d*** account!”

Me: “Sir, we can’t unlock the account until we’ve received some form of payment.”

Customer: “F*** you, man. I’m going to call your head office and have you deported.”

Me: “Um, I was born in this country, so I can’t really be deported to another country. This still won’t get your account unlocked. If you can pay–”

Customer: “Get the f***ing account turned on or I’m coming around there, and I’m going to eat you!”

Me: “Eat… me?”

Customer: “D*** right! I’m going to have you eaten and deported. We’re going to claim back our land and eat all you b**tards, then have you kicked out of the country!”

Me: “Please pay your bill. I’m terminating this call.” *click*

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Don’t Let The Door Hit You On The Way Out

, , | Right | August 15, 2008

(I’m a liquor store owner. A teenager grabs a couple of beer bottles and proceeds to the counter to purchase the beer.)

Me: “May I see your ID?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “I don’t sell alcohol to people without IDs.”

Customer: “But I’m 18! I’m allowed to buy beer!”

Me: “Sorry, but its the law. No ID, no beer.”

Customer: “F*** you! F*** this government! Can’t a man just buy and enjoy their beer anymore?”

Me: “Look, all you have to do is flash your ID and you can buy all the beer you want. Now, can I see your d*** ID?”

Customer: “No, you listen to me! I didn’t drive all the way here to be treated like this. Back then, trust was enough to keep things rolling, but now everyone thinks everyone is a liar! This country is a f****** dump! Do I look 12 to you? I’m telling you, I’m 18 and I’m allowed to buy beer, and…” *rants on and on*

Me: “Get out of my store.”

Customer: “Excuse me?!”

Me: “Oh I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Get the f*** out of my store!”

Customer: “I’m never coming here again!”

Me: “Now you’re getting the idea!”

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Fighting Fire With Fire

, , | Right | August 13, 2008

(A father is letting five kids make a complete mess of the restaurant. They’re ripping napkins and using it as confetti, breaking chopsticks, and screaming their little heads off.)

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to tell them to stop doing that. They are disturbing the other customers.”

Father: *beaming* “No.”

Me: “No, as in, no, you won’t tell them to stop it?”

Father: *still beaming*“Yes.”

(I have to get back to work at this point and sure enough, the kids keep misbehaving. Several customers complain to me but I have no authority to throw them out. The last to complain is a table with about eight young guys.)

Customer #1: “So there’s nothing you can do about them?”

Me: “I’m so very sorry, sir, but no. I can get you a drink from the house to make up for it.”

Customer #2: “No, that won’t do.”

Me: “Well, I can see if I can get you a free dessert…”

Customer #2: “Not what I meant. Can’t you get your boss?”

Me: “I’m afraid he’s not in, sir.”

Customer #1: “Well, we won’t accept any free stuff. I bet that would come out of your pay.”

Customer #3: “Hold on…”

(The customer gets up and the others immediately follow him to the noisy, messy table. They’re now surrounded by eight tall, young men who look mighty pissed.)

Customer #3: *to the father* “Tell them to stop it.”

Father: *still beaming* “No.”

Customer #1: “You’re upsetting the waitress.”

Father: “Do you guys even work here?”

Customer #1: “No, we’re from that prison up the street. We’re out on parole. Funny coincidence, we all served seven years for kidnapping and murdering a bunch of noisy brats and a jerk who made minimum-wage waitresses cry.”

(At this point the kids become very, very quiet and the other patrons start giggling and staring.)

Father: “You’re lying.”

Customer #4: “Wanna take that chance, buddy?”

(One more lecherous grin was enough to send the whole bunch of misfits scurrying to the exit. My knights in shining armor actually got applause from the other diners and a free meal from me.)

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