They Just Can’t Cut the Mustard

(I’m working the copy desk when a customer walks in.)

Me: “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Yes, I’d like to print some photos on my flash drive.”

(She hands it to me.)

Me: “Alrighty. I’ll just hook it up and we can go from there.”

(I connect the flash drive to my computer and open the folder for it, to find that there is only one photo on it: a photo of the customer naked and rubbing ketchup and mustard on her large belly.)

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: “Yes, that one. I want it blown up to poster size, and I want 100 copies of that.”

Me: “I’m afraid it’s against our company policy to print, er, photos of an explicit nature, ma’am.”

Customer: “Really? Oh, darn. Well, do you at least like the picture?”

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: “Then it was worth it to come here after all!”