To Hang Up Would Be Poetic Justice

| Indianapolis, IN, USA | Right | January 27, 2015

(I’m working the closing shift in the electronics department, which is in charge of video games and the photo lab in addition to the actual electronics section. We’re currently running an upgrade on our photo lab’s software, and I’m expecting a call from corporate to check up on the progress of the upgrade. An outside call comes in on my phone. It’s not corporate but a male customer who sounds perfectly normal. I am also male.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, what’s the price on your Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare?”

Me: “I can check on that for you. I think it’s $59.99, but I’ll be able to confirm that for you in just a second…”

(As I’m walking over to the video game section, the customer begins reading me some of the most bizarre, suggestive, awful love poetry you’ve ever heard and starts making advances. I assume he wrote the poetry himself. This freaks me out, and I end the call immediately and call my team leader to let her know what had just happened.)

Me: “Hey, if you hear that I just disconnected a call, I did. Some guy called and started reading me poetry.”

(My team leader hears this and starts cracking up.)

Team Leader: “What? You should’ve transferred that call to me! I would’ve had fun with the guy!”

(‘Poetry Guy’ became an inside joke around the store. Every time I got a call from another one of my coworkers that night, they ‘read’ me poetry!)

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