Idiots and Nutters
I worked on the ad department of a local newspaper group for about 18 months.

After a while, there's two classes of caller who stand out to you: the idiots, and the nutters. The nutters are better than the idiots but there's less of them.

Idiots first:

'Hello. I wanted to enquire about the cost of an ad.'
'Certainly, Madam. What is the ad for?'
'Well, I don't think that's any of your business...'
(click)

'Hi, is that the Jobs ad line?'
'Yes, it is'
'I'm looking for a job, what have you got?'
'Er... The line's to place an ad for jobs'
'Yeah, I know, but you work for the paper taking the ads, right? So can't you just tell me what jobs you've got?'
'No'
'Why not?'
'Because there’s about a thousand jobs, and the whole point is that you're supposed to buy the paper, anyway.'
'I'm out of work and living on the dole!'
'It costs 35p once a week, and if you really don't want to buy it, they're all on the internet for free and most of the same ads will be printed in the freesheet on Saturday'
'You tight bastard!'
(click)

'Hi, Can I place an ad in today's paper please?'
'It's too late, I'm afraid, I can do tomorrow's paper though'
'What do you mean it's too late - it's 1 o'clock and it doesn't arrive in in newsagents for at least another hour'
'Yes, but we have to print it, and we printed it last night, sir.'
'Oh... Can't you send out a correction to the newsagents by internet or something?'
(Pause) 'Er... no'

'Hullo, I'd like to place an ad, please.'
'OK, Madam, what sort of ad?'
'Well, it's sort of a job ad - it's for a pyramid scheme thing you see.'
'I'm afraid we can't take that, because these sort of things are illegal'
(shocked) 'No! Really! Oh... Gary, that fucking wanker!'

'Hi - I was hoping to get a copy of an obituary that ran recently about a friend of mine from school - he was a dear friend and I'd love to have a copy as a keepsake.'
(Being nice because he was polite and obviously old and I could easily help him) 'OK, sir, tell me which paper and when it ran and I'll find a copy.'
'I can't remember when it ran, or which paper, actually. Last month or so, sometime'
'OK, no problem, I'm sure we can track it down, what name?'
'John'
'John what, sir?'
'I don't know, son, I just knew him as John'
'Hmmmm...'

‘Hi – you might remember me, I’m Mr _______. I placed an ad last week for a JCB for sale...’
‘Oh yeah, Hi Mr _______.’
‘Well, listen mate, I haven’t sold it and I’m not happy. I want to try again but I’m only going to place an ad again on the condition that if it doesn’t sell, you lot will promise to take it off my hands.’
(Pause) ‘What’s a newspaper going to do with a JCB?’
‘Not my problem, mate.’
‘Well yeah, it is actually.’
‘Oh, yeah... just stick it in again for the same cost then,I suppose’

‘Hi, I want to place an ad'
'OK, no problem, what sort of ad?'
'Oh, for fuck's sake, I can't be bothered with this shit...'
(Click)

'04508796464056'
'Hello? sorry, can I help you?
'04508796464056'
'Sorry, can I help you with something?'
'04508796464056!!!!! That's my account - I want to renew the ad, for fuck's sake!'
'OK, who's that an account with, sir?'
'THE FUCKING EXPRESS AND STAR'
'Sir, this is the _______ ______'
(click)

Then there were the nutters:

The lady who rang up every other week to place ads in the paper about proper dog care, which took her about an hour a time to dictate. Everyone knew to be patient with her and only to charge her a pittance (just to satisfy her) even when she filled whole sections of classified with tips about Dog Dental care. Her family appreciated it and even sent a card to us one Christmas to say thanks.

The chap who'd once phoned up about an ad, and then carried on ringing me most weeks on a Wednesday for a chat because he was lonely. I was happy to skive from selling and have a natter, as he was a nice enough bloke and happy to genially chat about football for half an hour, but it became increasingly odd as he tried to persuade me he was MD of a Multi National Corporation and was sometimes calling from high-society parties, when I knew he'd placed an ad offering his services as a bookkeeper at discount rates only weeks beforehand, and could hear 'Neighbours' in the background whilst talking to him.

The bloke who placed help wanted ads and insisted on coming in to the office to pay in person. He'd always insist I went to see him and then chat for ages and try and make me feel awful whenI insisted on going back to work by - on some occasions - crying. God knows what he wanted people to help him with...

I have to say though, it was good fun and a learning experience for a graduate, although my appetite for exposure to the great British public is pretty much sated, and I'm glad my number isn't in 100,000 copies of the local paper every day anymore.

Apologies for length? We don't go by length, we go by column-centimetres x premium (for position, colour, etc.) x rate...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 0:11, 3 replies)

Most excellent, mate
Selling advertising... thankless task, mate... Well, not that anyone should really be thanked for doing it - its not like saving a life or finding a cure for cancer. But thankless all the same. click!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 9:58, closed)

I worked in a couple of banks
mostly taking calls complaints.

The people who used to phone up and just bark their account number at me used to really fuck me off. Politeness costs nothing, and gets you considerably better service.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 15:29, closed)

click
great stories, you could have divided them up and filled the best of!
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Tue 8 Sep 2009, 17:01, closed)