Photo ID - a simple concept
Just so you know, folks, the accepted forms of ID for a bar are as follows: full driver's license, passport or Prove It card. (whatever the hell that is) If we're fairly sure, we may accept a provisional driver's license.

The following are not and will never be accepted as ID, from sensible to ludicrous:

* Student ID - not sure about the why on this one; easy to fake perhaps?

* Bank cards - is your face on it? Then it could be anybodys

* Riley's membership - yes, you have to be 18 to get it but then we'll phone up the sodding pool club for you and ask them your full details and describe your face over the phone. So no, find something else.

* Your parents - this one is dying hard, I fear. I was once told a story of someone being refused service at a family function. In response, the girl's parents AND grandparents showed up in the traditional "I'm her [relative], I'm all the ID you need!". No, you're some irritating bastard who's shouting at the staff for doing their job. Shame it's too late for you to be sterilised.

* Young Scot card - as far as I know, it's to prove you're under 15 and requires no proof of age to get. You wouldn't use it to get into an 18 film, so why the crap will it work here?

* Tattoos - are you fucking joking? You probably got that at a young offenders institute, you codswalloping fucknugget. Only people stupid enough to be destined for jail would think Japanese text makes you look harder.

It's also surprising how many people seem to think their lack of ID is somehow my fault. Why does a desire to drink make so many people suddenly stupid?
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Sat 6 Sep 2008, 10:37, 8 replies)

Insurance scam with something missing
I work for a council. I guess you could say the residents are our customers.

One called up last week to make a claim on the Council's building insurance. Their house had burnt down.

I call the neighbourhood officer who tells me it's understood to have been a deliberate fire and that the resident is clearly trying an insurance scam.

The problem with that being that the residents are responsible for their own building cover.

The numpty has torched their own house for an insurance scam without any insurance.
(Garnett, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 10:35, 3 replies)

Taxis
Not sure if this makes me a customer from Hell, but it must annoy them.

I make regular use of a particularly taxi service in Leeds as they're reliable, fairly cheap and are there in five minutes usually. If you happen to be in Leeds, they're called Highways. I highly recommend them.

Anyway, whenever I phone them, they answer, 'Hello, Highways'.
And I say, 'Hello, can I book a taxi please?'

What the fuck else would I be phoning a taxi company for?

I'm sure this must really piss them off, but I've thought about this for ages and I just can't come up with an alternative opening gambit that doesn't involve my need to use their taxis. I know I need a taxi, they know if I've phoned them I will be booking a taxi.

I just can't think what else to say.

May well have spent too much time worrying about this.
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 10:25, 13 replies)

Roasting peas...
I don't work here anymore, but when darkness falls I STILL HEAR THEM SCREAMING...

I am hopeful this loving piece will give you hoo-mans a little insight into the world of a Stan James telephone gamble monkey. Having said that, sensible people should probably stop reading now; if you're into your bitter, hate filled diatribes, crack on!

1. Opening the Call

a) OK, best not to start with the opening gambits of "Would you like my account number?" - no, I'd like to fucking guess it sir - or "Can I have a bet?" - You've. Rung. A. Betline. See, the answers I really want to give to both questions are invariably "no", so just give me your account number and let's get this over with.

b) About that account number. It is six digits long, there is no need to pause after each one. I'm a big boy, I can take it all.

c) Shockingly enough, I need the account information before I can place the bet. If your race is going off, and you are angry that I must ask for said information, there is a simple remedy, RING 20 SECONDS EARLIER YOU LAZY CUNT.

d) Think about the events that are about to transpire, your best course of action. Trackside at the Moto GP? Don't call. Eating food? Don't call. Actually taking an actual shit while we're ACTUALLY talking? Dear Lord, have some shame man. Don't call. When all the above criteria are met, and you are somewhere quiet and free from interruption, I can just barely tolerate you. This is as good as it gets.

Sometimes this happens - "You want the account number? *sigh* Hang on I'll just get my card" - this will make my heart hurt. Preparation is the buzzword here, more on this later.

2. Right, We're In

a) Oh, where to start. This is where things begin to go seriously wrong. For starters, don't cut me off during my "Hello Mr Shroodgambler, what can I do for you?" spiel - can't you see I'm being courteous, you fucker.

b) At this point, don't wander off for a conversation with your friend/partner/child. It's crucial we talk, so the important business of betting happens.

c) Now I can't stress this one enough - have some idea of what your bet is before you ring up.

You don't walk into a betting shop, wandering around asking people what to throw your money at, do you. Do you? Spending hours trawling through Lithuanian table tennis prices just so you can find some streaky 2/7 shot makes me cry blood tears.

d) Shouty calls are great. If there's one thing I love, it's repeating every word I say simply because you can't be arsed to leave the pub. Similarly it's brilliant fun when you whisper, due to fear of reprisal from wife/boss/Allah.

e) There are a select band of miscreants who are only allowed to get a bet on when confirmed by the card holder. The type of guy who isn't allowed his own bank account. It is generally "the missus" who does the deed (says the alpha-male type who opens the call - ok pal, move along, let your wife get the bet on), but there is at least one individual who needs the confirmation of his mum. Time to give it up imo.

3. Bad Bets

a) Too many years gambling, and too long working here, has made me quite snobbish about certain bets. There are a few specifics which I will mention later, but for now, a quick rundown on some of my favourite crap bets. Oooh it's like the chart show isn't it:

- Betting less than a fiver on an odds on shot. Get away from me you gypo, quite frankly.
- Placepots in which you pick every bloody horse running, for 5p stakes.
- Through-the-card forecasts on the dogs. I mean, what leads you to believe trap 1 will beat trap 2 in every. single. race? If you hate money that much, give it to charity.

b) Each way betting is a type of bet used to back long odds. There are two parts to the bet - the win, and the place. Without boring you with too much detail, if you back short odds, you lose money on the place. Anything below 5/1 is a bit silly. So when you go e/w on even money shots and less, my face looks something akin to a bulldog licking piss off a nettle.

c) But we make it hard to just go all out for the win. Myriad bets on a plethora of sports, it can be confusing. But sometimes you just wonder at the thought process of someone putting their cold hard sterling on the assumption there will be over five first half corners in a Belgian League 2 match. Just WHY?

d) I'll lump the rest all in together, as they all tend to come from a very distinct type of customer - the ones we make all the money off.

If you do any of the following -

Back the next fav off without even knowing what it is, when it's off, what sport it's even in.
Ask for what's "in-running" due to the urgent need of betting on something RIGHT NOW.
Ask for the score, get told to ring the results line, then go "Ahh sod it, I'll just have £500 on the short price".
Are unable to pronounce the name of whatever filth you are backing - this one is always a sure sign of the amount of in depth study that has gone into a selection. And don't worry if you can't quite get it, we accept anything from words that sound a bit like the one you're trying to say, to mild racism ("gimme a hundred on that chinky bird")

- any of these, and I will instantly want to ritually slaughter your first born.

4. Things I Don't Need To Know

a) I just need the name of the horse. Dear God. We have this cracking little index thing that means I can just type the fucker in, and everything magically happens. I don't need to know where it's running, who the jockey is, the trainer, what price it was this morning, how it did when it ran out last saturday, what ground it prefers - you might as well tell me its birth mother and date of conception.

b) Personal facts. I don't wanna hear about your life as an accountant for the largest Kellog import/export depot in Europe, about your theory on gay people, whether you've recently shagged a prostitute, the death of all your close family, or how that recent trip to the hospital went.

I'll be blunt, having to hack your voice for one second longer than necessary has me reaching for the staplegun, its destination, MY FACE. I HATE YOU. This is maybe a point I should've raised earlier.

c) Anything else but the bet really. When I give you a price, and you say "but Ladbrokes are doing 3/1!!", what exactly d'you want me to say? Good for them sir!? Just have a bet, or fuck off, is the rule I'm implying.

Also, our company perhaps works differently from those you have encountered previously. Your opinions on our prices/markets/anything else? Quite useless. Utterly without value. I mean that sincerely. If I say something, it's right. If you don't agree, you're wrong. In todays crazy world, it's nice to see a pure black/white fact.

d) The jokes. Oh the jokes.
"What can I do for you sir?"..."Well you could find me a winner! hohoho chortle chortle!"
"Would you like 3/1?"..."I'd prefer 20s hohoho guffaw!"
"D'you do prices for the marathon?"..."Why of course, who were you..."..."Wassa price of the bloke in the diving suit AHAHAHAH CHORTLE LOLZ!!one"

5. Almost Home

a) OK, almost there, but not quite. One of the most crucial parts of the call is about to happen - reading the bet back, and calling "Bet's on". I have to do this. I don't wanna, but I must. So don't talk over the top of me. Don't talk to someone else as I do this, then ask what the bet was again. Don't allow me to go all the way through, dial for the money, strike the bet, then go "Errr, actually I wanted it like this". Just be cool.

b) When I say "Anything else Sir?" that's your cue to get involved, should you want anymore gamble. When you wait until I finish the bet and go "Oh there was something else", my teeth actually curl back on themselves, and reroot into my gums, and blood froths from my mouth. It's a terrible sight.

c) DONT HANG UP ON ME. NOT WHEN IM READING THE BET BACK, NOT AFTER I GIVE YOU A PRICE YOU DONT LIKE, NOT AS IM DIALLING THROUGH, NOT AFTER IVE TAKEN THE FUCKING TIME TO PUT YOUR SHIT FUCKING BET ON AND LISTEN TO URFUCKING INANE TWIITERINGFUCKIN CUNT YOU FUCK ARGJRHG DONT HANGUPVP;]ORGRSLSR DONT. HANGUPSKUDHG[#KJBZE DONTFUCK INHG]DHANG UP CUNTSKU,.;AB;EFKEW. #]. Don't do it.
(bacontrout got ska, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 6:02, 4 replies)

My worst customer ever...
This was quite a few years ago, but it's still the highest level of customer suckage I can think of.

Ok. Just so you know: Working at a bank is godawful. People are pissy. The elderly think that you should remember them, since they’ve been members of the bank since 1969. Nevermind that they only come into the branch office once a year. Bygod they have over $1000 in this bank and asking for ID is a suicidal mission. WHY THE HELL DO YOU NEED ID? I WAS JUST IN HERE 3 MONTHS AGO! WHY DON’T YOU REMEMBER ME? DON'T MAKE ME CALL YOUR MANAGER! I KNOW THE OWNER OF THIS BANK AND I CAN HAVE YOU FIRED!

So you would think, that the people who are in charge of the upwards of $500,000 per week would get a decent wage. Well, you would be wrong. As a Head Teller (NO, not that kind of head, you pervs) the max I ever made was $8.50 an hour. I had been at that place for 6 years, and they paid me $8.50 an hour. Bastards.

So, it’s a Friday. Best friggin day of the week at a bank. And the beginning of the month. People are lining up out the door. Keep in mind; Fridays are the bane of a bank teller’s existence. We hate All People on Fridays. (If you ever go to a bank on a Friday, and that nice little girl that tells you to have a good day? She hates you. She wishes she could drop you into a large vat of acid, and watch your flesh dissolve. Never go to the bank on a Friday if you can help it.)

Typical Friday, we were open until 6. Things are extremely busy, line-ups out the door. I think it was the third of the month, so we have all of the social security and welfare checks to cash. When the first or third falls on a Friday, you know it’s gonna be a bad day.

We’re close to closing time, the crowd is thinning out. Near the end of the line, is a woman, about 25 or so, with a little boy, about 4. She comes up to my counter, hands me a phone bill and a credit card. I ask, “Did you want a cash advance on the credit card to pay the phone bill?” (We had to ask)

She rolls her eyes and says “YES!” (Quite loudly. Even all of the retired social security check holders turned to look, and most of them are half deaf.)

I run the cash advance and have her sign the slip, while instructing the new girl next to me how to run an electric bill. After she signs the slip, she turns to walk away, and I say, “We haven’t done your phone bill yet, just the cash advance.”

Another eye roll and she yanks on the kid's arm and comes back up to the counter. I process the phone bill, hand her the receipt and turn to answer the question the new girl is asking me.

Now, I freely admit I was a bit distracted during the transaction, due to the new girl next to me that I was training. But I don’t think that excuses this:

Customer’s eyes begin to bulge and the unholy fires of hell surround her. She literally screams, “I WANT TO TALK TO THE MANAGER!”

I’m stunned. I stammer out, “All right.” I stand up from my stool, and start to walk around the counter to get my supervisor, and the woman rushes around the counter and punches me! Closed fist. (And that was a big, ham-like fist. This woman was an Amazon. About 6’2 and probably 240)

I jump back as I see her coming, and her fist only connects with the top of my head, instead of my face that she was aiming for.

My supervisor, who stood up when the woman began screaming, runs over and leaps in front of her, arms spread. He is not happy with someone attacking one of his girls. (I know, but we were very young girls, and he was a very sweet older guy. We didn’t mind being called his girls.)

She’s still trying to come at me, and my supervisor is shoving back at her with his body, refusing to touch her with his hands, she’s got both of her arms over his shoulders, swinging wildly. Her poor kid is watching the whole thing.

Super long story made slightly shorter: Cops were called, woman was arrested, and kid gets picked up by Grandma. I head to hospital for pictures for the cops; we go to court a few months later. Want to hear the reason she gave the judge for attacking me? (And she actually said this, in court.)

I didn’t tell her to have a good day.

Length? Only six months probation and a small fine.
(ladydyani, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 4:40, Reply)

I was one of them...
So, here is my story of being a stupid consumer.

It was Xmas time I was shopping for presents, i wondered in to HMV and saw a CD i thought would be an excellent present for my sister (read fuck it that will do). I approached the counter CD in hand. I asked if they did student discount. They said yes. I had forgotten my student ID. Ah what is this, it is a store card which only students have. I branchished it. The calm kind guy, was very polite, but coundn't do a discount etc etc, i paid full price, after some bumbling words.

Turned out i was branshing a Virgin store card thingy. Oh what a fool i looked like.

Having said all that, i was in Oz during my student days and my student id worked out there when i got discounted cinema tickets. Which is weird given that a couple of times in my own home country it didn't....
(StyX is staring at you, yes YOU!!!, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 3:03, Reply)

I was a customer from hell today
I asked for a kilo of cheese. What was I thinking, expecting them to know what a kilo was!

She weighed up about 500g and said, "so you about half that then, right?"

I almost got shouty.
(MrChimp previously Monsieur, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 2:47, Reply)

November 2004, Customer Service Desk.
"I'd like to see the manager please, you've sold me an out-of-date pack of plasters"

Having only moved over to the customer service end of things a few weeks previously, my faith in humanity was not yet crushed, something which has since been rectified, and knowing that the managers would be at lunch, I decided to see if I could resolve the matter myself.

"Are you sure, do plasters even have an expiry date?" I enquired. "Could it be the batch number?"

Customer insists that she is right, and that the plasters expired on the 8th of August, and she can prove it cause she has the box right here:

|                      |
| Expires  08    08    |
|         Mon.  Year   |
+______________________+

If "mon." and "year" hadn't have been there, I could have sympathised. I can't remember how I explained it to her without calling her stupid, insinuating she was blind, or laughing, but I presume that I assume that I did, as I kept my job for another 2 years.

Fast forward a year, I'm on the cigarette kiosk. A gentleman approaches, places his order for 20 of Marlboro's finest, pays with a card and leaves. For a while.

10 minutes later, he is back, and accusing me of stealing his card. Unlike a till, on the kiosk there are very few places a card could easily disappear to.

After asking him to make sure he hasn't put it in one of his other pockets, I call a colleague down and we start shifting some furniture and looking down behind it, and emptying the displays in front of the till of their merchandise.

Still no joy, gentleman is now being quite loud and shouty, as he has a meeting in 15 minutes. Shitting bricks at this point, as having customer property disappear in your presence is quite likely to be recorded on your employee record, I call down my manager.

The three of us then start searching places well away from the kiosk, in case it hit the floor and got kicked away. Still nothing. Gentleman is now mentioning compensation very loudly.

I look up to the heavens for divine inspiration, and find it. The entire kiosk is covered by CCTV. My manager, who by now is giving me the evil eye, goes out to the CCTV-watching-place to play back the tapes to see what I did with the card.

I walk back out the front to inform the gentleman that his card will be found momentarily, as my manager is off to watch the CCTV. I serve a few customers, phone through to the back office to see if manager has made any progress, when there's a tap on my shoulder.

"It was in my back pocket. See ya." and off he walks, not even an apology.

Rewind a year or two, it's 10AM sunday morning, the store is just opening, and I'm on a checkout. Chavette comes up with a loaf of bread, and hands me a 5. Till opens, I curse the fact that the last person to use the till completely emptied all the notes (important), and hand her the change.

"Oi, I gave you a 20 ya thieving git Get me my change before I call a manager"

I called one for her. Who tries that scam on a shop 2 minutes after opening. Really.

Shifting to yet another time, a customer starts pulling the barrier across my till lane and puts up the closed sign on the conveyer.

I ask what she is doing, and she says "Well you need to close after me, I have a coupon for free home delivery and I need it back home as soon as possible."

On many, many occasions, we will have customers who bring in coupons and use them regardless of what they buy. Sometimes, we're talking about 20-30 coupons taking £10+ off in total, none of the items they are for have been bought, and every time the conversation goes the same...

"I'm sorry, but you haven't bought any of the items these are for, I can't accept them"
"But the person last week did" (I only know 1 time anyone did actually accept this - they took £45 of luncheon vouchers, all with sequential serial numbers, still in the book - they got a written warning).
"Well, I'm sorry but that person was in the wrong, and was quite likely given an official warning. It's against company policy to accept them if you haven't bought the product"
"but the person last week..."
"Even if I wanted to I couldn't, the vouchers are scanned in and done automatically, I can't override it"
"but the person last week..."

I apologise for my unfunny writing style. Dammit Jim, I'm an engineer, not a comedian!
(The Mysterious X, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 2:28, 1 reply)

Thr Whitebait Man
i'm a chef, as well as a wannabee graphic designer...and have seen a lot of bizarre shit in my time, but the funniest request ive had from a customer, was to "top and tail" his whitebait. As i'm sure you are all aware "whitebait" is a dish of minute fish, dusted in flour and deep-fried. But instead of being polite to this freak, I had to go out into the resteraunt and tell him to "Fuck Off"
Pleasured me greatly.......................
( Evil_Ted is collecting wooden giblets, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 2:21, 4 replies)

McMuppet
I am annoyed.com

So I've posted before about McDonald's and customer shittyness, but today really took the piss.

Shift was goin well today, everything was fine and customers were happy. Except one.

He came in mobile phone in hand and ordered his food. He took his food with a big shiny smile. Only he left his big shiny phone on the front counter.

As we live in a pretty nice town, someone found it and handed it in. I go through the phone book looking for a home number, which I find and dutifully call. Get through to him and he seems quite pleasant and says thanks and he will pick it up in half an hour.

So half hour goes by and some lady comes in saying her husband left a phone on the front counter about 35 minutes ago. I ask her to describe the make, model and colour to me, which she does with ease. I asked her how she knew a phone had been left here and she said that her husband received a call from the shift manager (i.e ME) about half hour ago to inform him, and she was picking it up for him.

So far so good. It sounds so painstakingly genuine that I hand over the phone. Everything matches everything so why wouldnt I?

Only it wasn't. About an hour later this bloke walks in and asks if he can have his phone. Now this was the only phone that had been handed in all day, so I was confused. After explaining that the phone had already been picked up, his face turned what a can only call a lovely glowing burgendy, and I swear some steam was coming out of his ears.

The pleasant man from the phone had gone and was replaced with a the sort of behaviour that would make a chav proud with a voice of 120db and a swear word consistently added between each word.

After explaining that we checked before handing the phone over, he proceeded to blame each and every member of staff for conspiring against him and setting him up so he lost his 'Important Works Phone' (The Important Works Phone that he so carelessly left in front of each and every customer that enters McDonald's).

He demands the police and CCTV. So I call the police and show him round the CCTV.

It turns out that the lady was his wife, but they were currently going through divorce proceedings. He went up hers before he came to McD's and he phoned her and asked was it there. When she said no, he said it was either there or McDonald's so he would try McDonald's.

Cogs started turning. Everything clicked. That's how she knew so much. BECAUSE HE FUCKING TOLD HER!!!

Just then the police got there. Before I could open my mouth, he pointed directly at me and shouted rather loudly 'THIS CUNT IS FUCKING MY EX WIFE AND NOW HE'S GIVEN HER MY PHONE. ARREST HIM.'

Now while I found this quite hysterical, I am 21. This woman was at least 50, and as nice as MILF's can be, she had more wrinkles than an elephants arse. Now I can empathise with him, he'd just lost a £200+ phone and he was having a divorce. He clearly had a shite day.

One officer lead him to the car while the other looked over the CCTV footage with me. After the officer agreed that it was his own stupid fault, he told me not to worry as he was one of his neighbours and he's a 'Bit Of An Arse' to put it frankly.

After supplying the local bobbies with some free caffine for their troubles, I went back to work.

I really hope he never comes in again for fear of me laughing in hisface about how pathetic his life is.

Apologies for length and lack of exciting ending. Just had to get it off my chest.

I love you all people!
( sausagesucker just paid £5.00 for a cup of Tea!, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 2:18, 2 replies)

Nugget Bloke
Among the chavs and twats that inhabit the town where I work there is one truly special customer. Nugget Bloke.

His crimes against reason include (on separate occasions)

* Shitting in the middle of the floor in front of the toilet.

* Smearing his own shit around the walls, floor and ceiling of the customer toilet.

* Damaging the toilet so that water was literally fountaining out of the supply pipe and nonchalantly leaving the shop.

The first time I encountered Nugget Bloke was during my first week at my new job in a fast food outlet. Not one of the multinationals. I'm working with the new manageress when this man comes in alone and proceeds to ask in a very quiet voice how much this combination, that combination, oh no, maybe the first combination again costs. Eventually he decides, pays for his food and sits down while we cook it for him and take it to him.

A few minutes later he's back at the till saying that his friend has changed his mind about the drink ordered and could we change it. The manageress looks at me with wide eyes but we change the drink and he goes back to the table and pushes it to the empty seat opposite him.

It's a small town and his family is fairly large. Can't tell him what I think of him for fear of upsetting them. So every time he comes in I just have to smile take his money and pray that he doesn't go near the toilet.
(manwiddicombe is thinking of something witty to add here, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 1:31, Reply)

There was only me in the office...
Phone: Brrrrring brrrring!

Me: Hello?
Twot: Hello. Could you put me through to the accounts dept?
Me: Ok, please hold...
*Footsteps
Me: Hello, accounts?
Twot: Oh hai...
( Mavis Bickle Are you talking to me dear?, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 0:44, 1 reply)

Hello
"A glass of red white wine please."

Me - "Pardon?"

"A glass of red white wine."

Me - "Which would you like, red or white?"

Looks confused "Red white please..."

I twig as to what his major malfunction might be, and hold up a bottle of rose.

"No thank you, I don't want a glass of rose. I would like a glass of red white wine. Don't you have any?"

Me - "No, it doesn't exist."

Looks really really hurt, and walks away.
(Waspard has your wank bank account details, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 0:44, 1 reply)

Generic Idiotic Mobile Phone Shop "Classic" Quotes from Customers
Warrantree? What the fuck is a warrantree? You're not even fucking Jamaican!

Sonny Ericsson? Are you 95 years old? Who says Sonny nowadays?

Nokia is all one word. It's not, "No Kia," as if you are saying 'no' to a popular housewifes' car.

Voice Dial is not the same as Voice Mail. How anyone can confuse them is beyond me. One dials using your voice, the other is for when you're pissed at 4am and want to bug your mates.

"Now, I don't want a phone that's too complicated."
"Okay, this one is the cheapest one we have, it has a camera, but you don't have to-"
"Ohhh no, I don't need one of those."
(Roll Fizzlebeef enjoys a good Cleveland Steamer, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:44, 1 reply)

Sprint customers
So, Sprint - one of the major cellphone carriers in the US - somehow got hold of my company's telephone number for out of warranty repair referrals (I work for www.pocketpctechs.com)

Not a problem. Until some monkey in the customer service department decided to start giving it out as the "official advanced tech support" number.

Every fucking day at work:

"Sir/Madam, we are not Sprint and are not affiliated with them. You will need to call their customer service back and have them direct you to the correct department".

This is often followed up with:

"They said you can help me get text messages/picturemail/that type of thing".

"No, unfortunately, we are not Sprint. We do hardware repairs on PDA's and do not offer tech support for Sprint"

"But they said you can help"

"Sir, unfortunately, we can't. Unless you have a problem with your sync connector, LCD screen, ROM etc, we can't help you"

"I'm going to report you to head office"

"Go ahead sir, my name is workboresme. You'll find I don't work there".

Tedious.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:42, Reply)

my previous job
in sports world. Arsey woman comes in, pesters us for about half an hour (mums at back to school time are the worse. Why would you go to a shop named sports world for school shoes?). When shes picked what she wants for her ugly as sin spawn, the shoes are given to me to take to the back of the till for her to buy.

unfortunately, a security tag somehow got stuck in the polystyrene shoe insert on its journey to the till, and she then spent the best part of half an hour trying to work out why she bleeped every time she tried to leave the shop. Bitch
(europe-who, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:36, Reply)

Retard with a phone
I won't go too in depth as the way the conversation went speaks for itself. A customer brought his mobile phone in for repair, so I asked,

"Has it been wet, at all, as this voids the warranty with us?"

"No, I don't think it has."

"Only, we charge a £10 labour fee if we find liquid damage."

"I think my son dropped it in the swimming pool, because I bollocked him after he did it."

Yeah. That last sentence didn't make a tiny bit of sense to me, either. I was dying to say, "you THINK he dropped it BECAUSE you bollocked him AFTER he did it? Do you THINK you could die BECAUSE you're a lying retard, which I realised AFTER you opened your gob?"
(Roll Fizzlebeef enjoys a good Cleveland Steamer, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:32, Reply)

confused customer
We dont let our customers phone us directly, they have to leave a voicemail message, and if we can be arsed we ring them back. I once had a message from an rather irate man, saying "I ordered a firewall last week and you have not delivered it yet! Where the frig is my firewall?". I should add that I am an admin monkey for a porn site.
(trickbaby, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:24, Reply)

nutters!
some old chav nutter threatened to kill me and chased me with a hanger at my first job as a reatil assistant. the guy chased me because the till declined the card.

and because i was the only one covering the sales floor, he thought it would be a good idea to chase me round the shop floor. i ran fast.

the fucker fell down, and i laughed. so he stormed off, leaving 'his' credit card behind.

when reported to police, the card was nicked. the chavvy mental mother fucker.
( sarah sarah sarah, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:17, Reply)

I tried my hardest
Someone phoned me with major attitude

Unfortunately I couldn't help because our department does not handle what the customer wanted.

Usually I transfer the call but the number she needed was not on our system so the only option was to give her the direct dial so she could get through to someone who could help.

Now comes the best bit.

She didn't have a pen to write down the number

I said no problem I'll wait while you go and get one..

Her: I DON'T HAVE A PEN.

Me: That's ok its an easy number to remember

Her: WHY DON'T I HAVE A PEN?

Me: It really is a easy number.

Her: YOU SHOULD SUPPLY ME WITH A PEN!

Me : Errm

Her: I NEED A FUCKING PEN!!!!! (SLAMS PHONE DOWN)

ME: What a Twat.
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:11, 1 reply)

Commuters - the Über Customer from Hell
Before I post my epic, I should point out that before I became a Train Driver, I used to be *in IT* (whatever that means). I've done 1st, 2nd and 3rd line support, I've managed Networks and Comms systems and in every one of my IT roles, I've come accross the same tw*ts, and it all boils down to one thing;

They want to blame their own shortcomings (be it in their own technical knowledge/aptitude or the *length department*) on you. You are the "IT Bloke" so you are a fair target when they don't bother to backup their work, or think that working on the same document for six hours without SAVING it is a good idea.

In IT, you get blamed for everyone else's mistakes.

Which is why I left the world of IT to drive trains...

...only to be presented with a group who are, quite possibly the ultimate examples of 'Customers From Hell'...

...that's right...

Commuters!

Essentially they are creatures of habit, they stand at the same place on the platform each morning and evening, they sit on the same seat everyday and moan constantly about the service/cost/staff/full moon.etc even when things are running at peak efficiency.

There are several tales of woe I could recount, from the bloke who had a go at me because the trains were cancelled due to a suicide - as I was helping the police and ambulance guys manhandle a large bag of bodyparts up the stairs and through the barriers, or the drunken idiot who thought it was a good idea to fall asleep on the last train on Christmas Eve, only to be woken up 70miles from where he wanted to get off and as it was *my* fault he was p*ssed and fell asleep, he tried to kill me with his umbrella - he got just what he deserved when, once the police had calmed him down, he had to pay £120 to get back to London.

I deal with the 'I pay your wages' brigade every day, I have people trying to kill me, kill themselves infront of me and more often than anything, drunken chavs who always defend their actions by claiming that 'they woz only messin' araund, innit mate!' Yes - I'm sure the family of your equally drunk mate will take that onboard when you 'pretend' to push him infront of me as I do 70mph through the station.

I've seen every possible form substance the human body can produce, smeared over the inside of a train, left in neat piles on seats or more worryingly, splattered over the front windscreen.

I'm just glad I'm not a guard. I've got an armoured door between me and the great unwashed, and without it, I can assure you that I probably would have gone postal by now, using the rather large and pointy hookswitch pole in my drivers cab to dispatch as many of the moaning tw*ts as possible before the police took me down.

I HATE Commuters.
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 23:01, 5 replies)

Errrrm
I answered the phone in my usual cheery manner saying good morning
The guy on the other end says "Hello have I got the right number ?"

The was then a couple of seconds pause..


Right number for what?

Pizza?

Taxi?

Police?

Alien Abduction?

Gimme a clue Numbnuts.
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 22:50, Reply)

Booking appointments.
For many years I worked in high street opticians. If a customer phoned for a Saturday appointment and there were none left I offer a Sunday one. "Oh are you open Sundays?" No you fucking retard I would offer you an appointment on a day when we are closed you cunting simpleton.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Fri 5 Sep 2008, 22:43, 2 replies)

Bloody users
User (in form of official request): "I'd like a report on all the blahs that are blah."
Me(in email to user): "Is that a one-off report, daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly...?"
User: "Ooh, I'll have to get back to you on that one."
Me: "Ok, well, what information do you want on the report? Just the ID of all the blahs or some of the other properties?"
User: "Ooh, I'll have to get back to you on that one."
Me: "Well, alright then. I'll wait to hear from you."

I wouldn't mind so much if this same conversation hadn't happened about twenty times so far this year alone.

These aren't fancy technical IT questions, these are the basic business questions you should have asked yourself the moment you decided you wanted a report. And even if you have no training in business analysis (and we maintain your training record database so don't even go there), even a concussed goldfish starring in a piscine adaptation of Memento would remember what questions I am inevitably going to ask by this stage in our relationship.

Do not make me come round there and introduce you to Uncle Taser.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 22:28, Reply)

customers from hell....
working in the retail frontline for many years i have many stories of idiocy
a favourite involves the man who walked into the high street bookshop i worked in and asked "where are the potatoes?"
the boss, standing at the till with me, answered "they're up the back, mate" and pointed to the back of the shop
a couple of minutes later the man came back to the till and asked "are you taking the piss? there's only books up there" and walked out...
(lady macbez, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 22:16, Reply)

twating hellfire buggery idiots
Now when i was a young(er) Bong i once was senior person/temp manager for a computer game store..shall not name them but if the area manager is still there..you are still a twat and you nvere relised how close i came to smacking you that day... anyway onto the story
* wibble effect here *
- The person who came in to see where the changing rooms are...
- When the store was flooded was crying they couldnt not play on the demo machines
- When, after a long 12 hour shift(with no breaks i have to add) someone moaning to me that i was leaving till area
"Well i'm sorry sir, but i have been on my feet for 12 hours, i've not had ONE break all
day and if i dont get something to eat RIGHT NOW I'm liable to pass out.. " "Well thats not goo.." (me finaly snapping at this guy who had been coming in almost every day for last two weeks before xmas and moaning about something) I was a about to say something when a good freind of mine who had popped in to drop of a pressie for me and me staff (Thank you Emma you life saver) simply said "Oh fuck off you ignoratnt twat..you really are a cock muncher ..he's about to pass out from diabetic shock(lie but was worth it) and you concerend about a fucking 4.99 game that sold out everywhere..just piss off you stuck up twat"
She got a small applause from the other customers and some heavy discount from me that day forth
(Yoda's Bong Been a worshiper of the dark ones since, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 21:42, Reply)

Sometimes the customer has more sence
Many moons ago, I got a mortgage with Halifux. As I had an account with Barstardlys at the time and the company I worked for paid my on the last working day of the month. I had a bit of trouble with having enough cleared funds in my account for the transfer of money to Halifux on time.

So I then get some nasty letters from Halifux about my late payments. Obviously I did not want this to continue and figured that the best way to deal with it was to open an account with Halifux to reduce the time it took to clear the funds.

After making an appointment to see someone with enough brain cells to authorise an application for an account. I get ushered into one of those odd little cubicles where I explain that I have been getting late payment letters and would it bee a good idea to open an account with Halifux and get my wages paid into the account, avoiding the fucking three day wait for two banks to sort out a transfer that should take minutes with all the computing power they have. She said that was an excellent idea and would be a solution to the problem. I fill out all the forms and she sends them off to head office. All I wanted was a current account with a cheque book and a debit card.

About a week later, I get a letter saying my application has been refused. Eh? I phone up, only to be told I’ll have to make another appointment. So I do.

At the appointment, I ask why they refused the application. You have a bad credit rating they responded. Why? I ask. The lady had to phone up head office. But she came back with “you’ve been late on some mortgage payments”. I know says I, that’s why I want the account the account in the first place and that’s what I explained when I applied for it.

I also politely pointed out that Halifux had thought it was fine to loan me many tens of thousands of pounds in a mortgage but thought I could not be trusted with a current account with a poxy debit card. I have to say that the lady telling me this did blush and say that she could not argue with my logic and that personally it made no sense. To her credit, she did appeal on my behalf but it was defiantly a case of ‘The computer says NO’.

Arse holes and elbows sprang to mind. But I was able to fire off a nice letter to them the next time I got a snotty letter. Funnily enough, I stopped getting them after that.

I suppose the moral of this story is not to loose your cool, the people you have to deal with don’t have a say in policy. Be polite and most people will respond in kind. Those that don’t, first explain the error of their ways and fucking deck them if they don’t respond.

Length? Boasting is crass.
(shadders, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 21:34, 3 replies)

Yes, you had to point out that you're better than everyone else.
I work in a gas station (petrol for everyone else) in the tiny town of Ossian, IN and I received a call on the work phone last week. After answering it, the person on the other end begins a bit of frustrated dialogue.

“Hey, I was there not long ago and I think I left my wallet on pump 1. Would it be a problem if you were to go check and see if it’s still there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Not a problem. Hold on a second.”

“Ok.”

(Commencing is a 3 minute long search of pump one involving looking on top the pump, on the adjacent pump, in the trash can and on the ground.)

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find…”

“Are you sure!?”

“Yes. I even looked in the trash can. Just for you.”

“Did you find it?”

“No.”

“What did you see in the trash can?”

“An empty pack of Kools and some empty ice bags.”

“Aw, man. I don’t smoke Kools. Do you smoke Kools?”

“No.”

“Are you sure you didn’t find it?”

“Yes. I’m positive and I’m sorry. I feel your loss. I’ve had my wallet stolen at least 3 times before. Each and every time, I lost all the cash that I had.”

“You sound like you’re being honest with me, but I just don’t know. I’ve heard that people from Ossian are crooks. Did you’re parents raise you right?”

“Yes. I don’t see what my parents have to do with this, and I’d suggest you leave them out of it.”

“WELL WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!? I HAD $3000 IN THAT WALLET!!”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you had any more customers come in since I was there?”

“I’d say about 4, I guess.”

“4!? You’re telling me you’ve only had 4 customers in there since I left 20 minutes ago?”

“I’d consider that quite productive for 3rd shift.”

“Even with Ossian Days coming up?”

“Yes…Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

At this point, Larry, our stocking/outdoor maintenance guy shows up. I tell him the situation and ask if he had seen a wallet out on pump one. He says no and we proceed to look a second time to no avail.

“Our cleaning guy just showed up and we both looked again. I asked him if he’d seen it and your wallet still hasn’t shown up. I’m sorry.”

“What’s his name?”

“Not that it’s a concern, but his name’s Larry.”

“And what’s your name”

“Jack.”

“Do you or anyone else there have a criminal record?”

“No. Why?”

“Like I said, I’ve heard that people from Ossian are crooks. Do you have any surveillance that would be able to prove that no one took it?”

“Not on the outside, no.”

“You don’t have any cameras outside!?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I’m on my way there. I’m on I-69 and I’m turning around. I’m going to find it even if I have to pat you down.”

“Ok. ‘Bye.”

*click*

After this beauty of a conversation, I inform Larry and our cleaning lady, Sandy as to what happened. I then call my boss and inform her. She tells me that if I feel threatened, to call the police. Then my girlfriend calls as she is wont to do and I tell her of the situation. She gets worried and tells me to call her back after everything’s done just to make sure that I’m ok. Not long after this, my friend Troy shows up and upon relaying the story to him, he takes a tire iron out of his car and rests it on the counter inside. Not 5 minutes after he pulled in, 2 police officers show up who I assumed were called by my boss. I let them know what’s going down and we wait.

10 minutes go by when I’m ushered inside by Larry and Sandy saying that I have a phone call. It’s the asshole from earlier.

“Listen, Jack. I just found my wallet. I went to Fisher’s and found it hanging off my Lexus’ antenna. Apparently, I’d left it on the roof. Sorry for the trouble. ‘Bye.”

Long story short, sometimes my job fucking blows.
(somethingwitty, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 21:13, 4 replies)

Wrong, they are always wrong
When I worked for Waterstones I was once asked for any "local history books on Ire-Land" by this female,middle aged north american tourist.

"We dont have any" I replied

"Why not?"

"This is Edinburgh, not Ireland"

"I didn't say Island. I said Ire-land"

I counted to 10 in my head and then continued "I know, however you may find something in the European history section on the first floor" I said pointing to the escalator.

"You mean the 2nd floor?"

"Upstairs" I say with the falsest smile I could muster.

Ignorant bastards like that shouldn't be allowed to leave their country.

They say the Customer is always right but...
( Fire & Forget it's the only way to be sure, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 21:03, 1 reply)