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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Don’t get me started with the Cornwall car industry…
My doorbell rang the other day. It was a delivery guy asking me if I would sign for a ‘package’. When questioned on what ‘package’ he was referring to, he pointed into my driveway, where there stood a maaHooosive, blinged-up-to-the max sports utility vehicle. Black tinted windows, gargantuan alloys, the works. Attached to the car was a huge note saying: ‘With love from a small town in Penwith, Cornwall’.
There were just two problems with this situation.
1) I hadn’t ordered it, and
2) I bloody well loathe those kind of cars. As far as I am concerned, they are a sorry excuse to overcompensate the fact that you have a weeny wang.
So (quite justifiably I feel), I was rather annoyed by this point; and I’m afraid to say I unleashed an unholy violent tonnage of purest sweary rage over the poor delivery spod:
“What the fuck do you think you doing, Twat-cake?” I barked “I don’t want this fucking wank-pile, cock-biscuit piece of putrified rat-shit on my drive – Get rid of it NOW – you scrotey fuckstick turdburger”.
The delivery man just grunted, shrugged and walked off, leaving me with this monster machine on my drive...
The next day there was another knock at my door, the same delivery guy was stood there with a smarmy expression on his face. He simply said “Sign here please”.
I glanced behind him and saw ANOTHER identical behemoth of a 4X4 with the label ‘With MORE love from a small town in Penwith’
At this point I blew a microchip.
“For fuck’s sweet sake, cumsponge. are you fucking retarded?” I screeched at the bloke. “I didn’t want that first chunk of fucking crap and I certainly don’t want another wanking lump of dogsnot, cock-extension fucking shitebucket arse-knackery anywhere the fuck near me. Fucking FUCK! AAARRRGGHHHH!”
But again, the delivery man, just turned and left.
Since then, nobody has come to collect them, and as I look out of my window now I can still see my cussed Hummers from Hayle
*dies a little inside*
*promises that will be the last one…this week*
*understands that anyone pressing ‘ignore’ is entirely justified*
( , Wed 10 Sep 2008, 12:45, 4 replies)
My doorbell rang the other day. It was a delivery guy asking me if I would sign for a ‘package’. When questioned on what ‘package’ he was referring to, he pointed into my driveway, where there stood a maaHooosive, blinged-up-to-the max sports utility vehicle. Black tinted windows, gargantuan alloys, the works. Attached to the car was a huge note saying: ‘With love from a small town in Penwith, Cornwall’.
There were just two problems with this situation.
1) I hadn’t ordered it, and
2) I bloody well loathe those kind of cars. As far as I am concerned, they are a sorry excuse to overcompensate the fact that you have a weeny wang.
So (quite justifiably I feel), I was rather annoyed by this point; and I’m afraid to say I unleashed an unholy violent tonnage of purest sweary rage over the poor delivery spod:
“What the fuck do you think you doing, Twat-cake?” I barked “I don’t want this fucking wank-pile, cock-biscuit piece of putrified rat-shit on my drive – Get rid of it NOW – you scrotey fuckstick turdburger”.
The delivery man just grunted, shrugged and walked off, leaving me with this monster machine on my drive...
The next day there was another knock at my door, the same delivery guy was stood there with a smarmy expression on his face. He simply said “Sign here please”.
I glanced behind him and saw ANOTHER identical behemoth of a 4X4 with the label ‘With MORE love from a small town in Penwith’
At this point I blew a microchip.
“For fuck’s sweet sake, cumsponge. are you fucking retarded?” I screeched at the bloke. “I didn’t want that first chunk of fucking crap and I certainly don’t want another wanking lump of dogsnot, cock-extension fucking shitebucket arse-knackery anywhere the fuck near me. Fucking FUCK! AAARRRGGHHHH!”
But again, the delivery man, just turned and left.
Since then, nobody has come to collect them, and as I look out of my window now I can still see my cussed Hummers from Hayle
*dies a little inside*
*promises that will be the last one…this week*
*understands that anyone pressing ‘ignore’ is entirely justified*
( , Wed 10 Sep 2008, 12:45, 4 replies)
I could never ignore you.
It would be like ignoring a small child with a slingshot.
( , Wed 10 Sep 2008, 14:02, closed)
It would be like ignoring a small child with a slingshot.
( , Wed 10 Sep 2008, 14:02, closed)
That's the best pun for this week......
....now would the rest of you please kindly give it a rest? Please?
( , Wed 10 Sep 2008, 14:16, closed)
....now would the rest of you please kindly give it a rest? Please?
( , Wed 10 Sep 2008, 14:16, closed)
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