tanner.jon

(I’m working behind the register counter that has glass display cases of knives, wallets, etc. Some are engraved with CSA—Confederate States of America, and USA—for the Union.)

Customer: *running up to the counter* “Oooh! Knives! Wait, what does ‘CSA’ mean?”

Me: “It stands for ‘Confederate States of America.’ Did you want to have a look?”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to buy. But, the Confederate states are the North, right?!”

Me: “No, not at all… ”

Customer: “Oh, oh well. But you know what’s strange? All these battles happened in national parks!”

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: “I guess that just made it easier to hide behind the monuments!”

Me: “I have to get back to work; have a nice day.”

(I get back to folding and stocking while the customer walks out with the smuggest look on their face, like they just gave me a history lesson.)

You can pretty easily predict what will happen in this friendly arm wrestling competition between bodybuilder Daniel Racoveanu and arm wrestler Ion Oncescu, but it’s still fun to watch…

(via b3ta)

(There is a customer coming through my line that is wearing cowboy clothing complete with 10-gallon hat, shiny belt buckle, and cowboy boots. There is another customer with a young boy standing behind them. I watch as the boy yanks on his mother’s skirt and points to the man in front.)

Young Boy: “Excuse me, sir; are you a REAL cowboy?”

Customer: *in a thick Texas drawl* “Why yes little man I am, but I only got to be a real cowboy because I ate all my vegetables and listened to my mother.”

(The customer then tips his hat to the mother and leaves. The boy does nothing but gush about his cowboy experience.)

Young Boy: “Mom! Go get more vegetables!”

Me: “Thank you for calling [name of hospital]; how can I help you?”

Patient: “I need to cancel an appointment I have today.”

Me: “Alright, let’s verify your information and then we look at the appointments.”

(As the patient verifies everything, I note he is 25 years old, the appointment is urgent, and was made earlier that day. He has already spoken to a nurse as well.)

Me: “Okay, I see the appointment with [name of doctor] at [time], and you want me to cancel it?”

Patient: “Yes. Oh and can you tell me what the appointment was for? I can’t remember.”

(I hover over the cancel button as I tell the patient.)

Me: “Sir, it is for forgetfulness. Are you sure you want to cancel?”

Patient: *silent for a moment* “Yes, go ahead and cancel it.”

From SMBC…

A quote from Calvin and Hobbes author Bill Watterson, illustrated by Zen Pencils…

Read more about Watterson and this comic.

(via Between Letters)

I sent three options of vitamin bottle labels to a client that varied in simplicity. 

Client: These are all too busy! Show me one that is simpler, but heavier on the color.

I send the client the simplest one, with the original green changed to blue. I meant for him to comment only on the colour, and not the (unchanged) design.

Me: Like this?

Client: Nice! This is exactly what I’m looking for. Just change the blue to green and we’re set.

At our project kickoff meeting, I asked a client what method of communication he prefers.

Client: Email is the best way to reach me and ensure that I get your message.

I sent him a project update via email two days later. After getting no response after two days, I queried him again via email.

Client: (via email) I get too many emails, so just call me here at the office.

I call him the following week to get his approval on a design and the receptionist screens my call.  I try three more times over the next week, making sure to email with each call. 

On Friday:

Client: Where are my proofs? We’re on a deadline.

Me: I called numerous times, but your receptionist wouldn’t let e speak to you.

Client: Yeah, I told her to screen my calls. Just call me on my mobile.

I call his mobile three times the next week, leaving a message on his (generic) voicemail.

Once again bringing us to Friday:

Client: I just ignore my phone’s voicemail. Call my office or email me.

I begin to do all three, in rotation, over the next week. After failing to reach him, I sent him a certified letter to have him sign off on the final product.

He calls me three days later:

Client: Why are you sending me a letter? It’s 2013 for God’s sake! There are better ways to get a hold of me. 

Customer: “I also want a pound of Swiss cheese, but I don’t want it sliced.”

Me: “So you’d just like a one-pound block of cheese?”

Customer: “Exactly. Can you do that?”

Me: “I sure can.”

(I take the cheese over to the sandwich station to get a large knife, measure approximately where I think one pound would be, and cut off a block. I put it on the scale, and much to my satisfaction, the weight of the block I cut is 1.005 pounds.)

Me: “Well hey, that was pretty good!”

(The customer looks at the scales.)

Customer: “Oh, my God! How did you do that?!”

Me: “Lots of practice?”

Customer: “No, no, that wouldn’t do it. You must have some kind of supernatural cheese power!”

Me: “Well, I was born on a dying cheese planet, and sent to Earth in a cheese rocket by my parents. Exposure to Earth’s yellow sun gives me cheese powers.”

Customer: “Whoa. Honey, come here! You’ve got to see this!”

(The customer’s wife comes over and listens to the story.)

Customer’s Wife: “Holy s***. Can you do that again?”

(I look over at my manager, who rolls her eyes and gives me a ‘go ahead’ wave. I cut another block off the Swiss cheese and weigh it. It comes up to 0.995 pounds.)

Customer’s Wife: “Jesus Christ!”

(She grabs the arm of another passing customer.)

Customer’s Wife: “You’ve got to see this! This guy is Cheese Man!”

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t give away my secret identity. The cheese villains of the world would hunt me down.”