Customers from Hell
The customer is always right. And yet, as 'listentomyopinion' writes, this is utter bollocks.
Tell us of the customers who were wrong, wrong, wrong but you still had to smile at (if only to take their money.)
( , Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:42)
The customer is always right. And yet, as 'listentomyopinion' writes, this is utter bollocks.
Tell us of the customers who were wrong, wrong, wrong but you still had to smile at (if only to take their money.)
( , Thu 4 Sep 2008, 16:42)
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Cats
I occasionally volunteer for a Cat Charity in my spare time and spend a fair amount of time with the furry buggers, so I suppose my customers are these bastards.
They're skittish as hell, and terrified at any movement; I've had my hand shredded many a time just doling out food. It's not their fault really, it's the bastards who have abused/abandoned these animals that are the real bad guys, but I digress.
I was processing the new arrivals in the cattery when I came across a ginger Tom, un-neutered. He was fucking huge, like a furry bastard wheelbarrow with a tail. I knew as soon as I saw him he'd be a handful and I was soon proved right when I knelt down outside his cage to check his food and water.
"YARAHHAWWWWWWWWWWAHOOOOOOAHO"
I nearly crimped off a length in sheer terror as the furry bastard launched himself at the door with such ferocity he nearly broke the lock. The noise he was making was unearthly - the fluorescent dim from the lights was making his eyes glow red, this was no ordinary cat.
He was scrabbling through the bars of the cage trying to grab my hand with his frying pan sized paws, I was having none of it and screaming blue murder back at him "I'LL PULL YOUR FUCKING TAIL OFF YOU LITTLE SHIT, STOP CUNTING AROUND OR I'LL RIP YOUR BOLLOCKS OFF!"
Magic. He went quiet. He'd left a chunk of fur in the cage door; I picked it up. Slightly bloody and still warm, that was my
cussed tom hair from hell.
( , Tue 9 Sep 2008, 15:28, 5 replies)
I occasionally volunteer for a Cat Charity in my spare time and spend a fair amount of time with the furry buggers, so I suppose my customers are these bastards.
They're skittish as hell, and terrified at any movement; I've had my hand shredded many a time just doling out food. It's not their fault really, it's the bastards who have abused/abandoned these animals that are the real bad guys, but I digress.
I was processing the new arrivals in the cattery when I came across a ginger Tom, un-neutered. He was fucking huge, like a furry bastard wheelbarrow with a tail. I knew as soon as I saw him he'd be a handful and I was soon proved right when I knelt down outside his cage to check his food and water.
"YARAHHAWWWWWWWWWWAHOOOOOOAHO"
I nearly crimped off a length in sheer terror as the furry bastard launched himself at the door with such ferocity he nearly broke the lock. The noise he was making was unearthly - the fluorescent dim from the lights was making his eyes glow red, this was no ordinary cat.
He was scrabbling through the bars of the cage trying to grab my hand with his frying pan sized paws, I was having none of it and screaming blue murder back at him "I'LL PULL YOUR FUCKING TAIL OFF YOU LITTLE SHIT, STOP CUNTING AROUND OR I'LL RIP YOUR BOLLOCKS OFF!"
Magic. He went quiet. He'd left a chunk of fur in the cage door; I picked it up. Slightly bloody and still warm, that was my
cussed tom hair from hell.
( , Tue 9 Sep 2008, 15:28, 5 replies)
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