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(The Customer Is) Not Always Right ~Funny!~

Posted by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:39 PM
  • 32 Replies

Please, Say No More

| Houston, TX, USA | Rude & Risque

(An older man, maybe late 50s with graying hair, approaches my register with a few groceries. Despite his age, he is very absorbed in his cell phone and paying little attention to what is going on around him.)

Me: “Hi! How are you today, sir?”

Customer: *giggles* “I’m doing exceptionally naughty things on my phone right now!”

Me: “Oh, that’s lovely! Do you have any coupons with us today?”

Customer: *leans in and whispers* “In the colloquial, that means I’m sexting!”

by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:39 PM
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Replies (1-10):
paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:40 PM

Line Is Law

| British Columbia, Canada | Food & Eating

(I am working in a buffet-style restaurant where customers line up for the food.)

Supervisor: “Can you go refill the napkins? We’re all out.”

Me: “Sure.”

(I walk over to the line wearing my work uniform and my ID card prominently displayed.)

Me: “Excuse me, I just need to refill the napkins.”

Customer: “No problem.”

Customer #2: “Why the f*** does everyone keep cutting the line?”

Me: “Sir, I work here. I am just refilling the napkins.”

Customer #2: “Well, that is no excuse! If you work here, you should know to wait your turn!”

paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:41 PM

Peter Pan Would Beg To Differ

| Charlotte, NC, USA |

(I’m working at customer service when a little boy with a balloon comes walking up with his mom. As I take care of the woman, I try to talk to the little boy.)

Me: “Wow, that’s a cool red balloon! Where did you get it from?”

Mom: “Honey, an adult is talking to you! Answer, her please.”

Boy: “Why is she an adult?”

Mom: “Because she is.”

Boy: “But why?”

Mom: “Because she’s not allowed to act like a kid anymore.”

paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:41 PM

Half A Sandwich For Half A Brain

| Yorktown, IN, USA | Food & Eating

(I work in a sandwich shop where you can purchase a foot-long or six-inch sandwich. Two women walk into my shop.)

Me: “Hi, how can I help you today?”

Woman #1: “We want half a sandwich, each.”

Me: “Okay, I can help you with that today. What kind of bread would you like?”

Woman #2: “Wheat, but we only want half of it, each.”

Me: “That’s no problem. Six-inch sandwiches are very common. Now, what kind of–”

Woman #1: “No! We want half of that!”

Me: “Uh, okay, so you want three inches, each?”

(The women both look at each other and nod. I cut a six-inch piece and hold it up.)

Me: “Okay, just so we can clarify before I cut it, I’m cutting this piece in half and you want half of it, each. If you like, I can just charge you for one six-inch since you’re getting the same kind of sandwich.”

Woman #1: “Alright, that’s good. Thanks for the offer.”

(I start cutting the bread into three-inch pieces.)

Woman#1: “What are you doing?!”

Me: *startled* “Well, I’m giving you your three-inch sandwiches.”

Woman #2: “No! We wanted one of those each!” *points at the other half*

Me: “So, you each want a six-inch sandwich?”

Woman #2: “No! We want half a six-inch!”

Me: “Ma’am, our regular sandwich is twelve inches. The one you just pointed at is six-inches.”

Woman #1: “I don’t care for your measurements! Just give us what we want!”

Me: “You want a six-inch then.”

Woman #2: “No! We want half!”

(This goes on for about 10 more minutes. They end up getting a six-inch each and then demanding that I give them the deal I’d offered. In the end, they both paid full price, mumbling about my incompetence.)

paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:42 PM

Spoiled Like The Food On Your Dirty Dishes

| Tempe, AZ, USA | Children

(I answer phones for a major appliance company. It’s Saturday.)

Customer: “My dishwasher’s broken!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that! Would you like me to schedule a technician to come out for you?”

Customer: “No! [Company] already did that! They told me I have to wait till Monday! I can’t believe you people expect me to go two whole days without a dishwasher. This is inhumane! I can’t do this. I have four kids!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, it sounds to me like you have four dishwashers.”

Customer: “How dare you tell me how to raise my kids! I can’t believe the nerve of you people!”

Me: “Well, do you give them an allowance?”

Customer: “Yes, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business!”

Me: “Do they do chores to earn it?”

Customer: “My children don’t have to earn their way through life. They’re angels!”

paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:42 PM

Judging By The Sound Of Your Hair

| Katy, TX, USA |

(I work at the information booth for a mall, and we sometimes sell various tickets for local parks. I had a conversation earlier with a caller about some water park tickets we’re selling. She comes into the mall to purchase some about an hour after her phone call.)

Me: “Ok, I just need you to sign here while I get these rung up.”

Customer: *staring at my hair* “You’ve got black hair.”

Me: “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Customer: “I can’t believe you have black hair!”

Me: *speechless*

Customer: “You sound like a redhead on the phone!”

Me: *speechless*

paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:43 PM

Zombies Need Friends Too

| Natick, MA, USA | At The Checkout

(I’m ringing up a mother and her daughter, about 8 years old, at the register. My computer is messing up, so sometimes when I scan an item, it comes up as a different item with the wrong price.)

Me: “I’m sorry about this. My computer seems to be acting up.”

Girl: “Maybe it’s broken!”

Me: “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

Girl: *excitedly* “Or…maybe zombies got it!”

Me: *plays along* “Oh yeah, that’s a good possibility too!”

Girl: “Yeah, zombies are people that used to be dead, and then they came back to life!”

Me: “Wow, that sounds pretty creepy!”

(The girl chatters on about zombies and other stuff while I finish cashing her mother out for their purchases.)

Me: *hands them their bags* “Alright, you have a good day, and look out for zombies!”

Girl: “Oh, don’t worry! That only happens in nightmares. Just make sure you dream about good zombies!”

Me: “Got it, I’ll make sure I do!”

paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:43 PM

Smut And Sin, Just Don’t Show Skin

| British Columbia, Canada | Religion, Rude & Risque

(We sell a variety of different magazines. The very back row is where the smut magazines are kept. Note that I’m a 16-year-old girl and very uninterested in that sort of thing.)

Customer: “Do you know if you only sell Playboy magazines, or do you sell Playgirl magazines as well?”

Me: “I have no idea, ma’am. I don’t, uh, pay much attention to the back row.”

Customer: “Why? Do scantily clad girls offend you and your religion?”

Me: “No, ma’am. I’m actually not really religious. I’m just not into that sort of thing.”

Customer: “What do you mean you’re not religious? Don’t you know that Jesus died on the cross for your sins?”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t want to get into a debate about religion. I just want to help you find what you’re looking for–”

Customer: “You’re a sinner! You sin and sell smut magazines!”

Me: *confused* “Ma’am, weren’t you looking for Playgirl magazines?”

(The customer turns beet red, storms out of the store, hops into her car, and drives away.)

paganbaby
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 3:44 PM

Grow Up Or Melt Down

| Colorado, USA | Food & Eating

Me: “Hello, [bakery], [my name] speaking. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I have a complaint about the cake you guys made for me.”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, sir. What was the problem?”

Customer: “It melted.”

Me: “Sir, did you purchase an ice cream cake?”

Customer: “Yes, and it melted when I left it on my counter last night.”

Me: “Sir, ice cream cake is made out of ice cream and will melt if you don’t keep it in the freezer.”

Customer: “This is not acceptable. I do not baby my cakes!”

VintageWife
by Bronze Member on Aug. 5, 2011 at 4:22 PM

These are too much! Especially the death one :/

Peanutx3
by on Aug. 5, 2011 at 6:22 PM

OK I am totally stealing this Pagan and posting it you know where!

Quoting paganbaby:

Smut And Sin, Just Don’t Show Skin

| British Columbia, Canada | Religion, Rude & Risque

(We sell a variety of different magazines. The very back row is where the smut magazines are kept. Note that I’m a 16-year-old girl and very uninterested in that sort of thing.)

Customer: “Do you know if you only sell Playboy magazines, or do you sell Playgirl magazines as well?”

Me: “I have no idea, ma’am. I don’t, uh, pay much attention to the back row.”

Customer: “Why? Do scantily clad girls offend you and your religion?”

Me: “No, ma’am. I’m actually not really religious. I’m just not into that sort of thing.”

Customer: “What do you mean you’re not religious? Don’t you know that Jesus died on the cross for your sins?”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t want to get into a debate about religion. I just want to help you find what you’re looking for–”

Customer: “You’re a sinner! You sin and sell smut magazines!”

Me: *confused* “Ma’am, weren’t you looking for Playgirl magazines?”

(The customer turns beet red, storms out of the store, hops into her car, and drives away.)



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