Huh. I thought a gangbang was any group sex, with any combination of genders, consentual or not. Or it was inter-gang violence, like a mob hit.
Diosa has a new favorite threat!!! 
(bolding mine)
I have to say, I agree with the customer on this. Not with being an asshole, exactly, but with sticking to your guns over principle, even if it amounts to mere pennies.
If he was entitled to the interest, and didn’t get it, then there’s a problem. Taking the dime from the rep doesn’t fix the problem, and again, while being a jerk isn’t necessarily the best way to deal with it, do you really think he should have just said, “Oh well, the bank has made a mistake and it’s going to be too inconvenient to investigate what happened and fix it, so I guess the bank can just keep the money that’s rightfully mine. No prob!”?
To me the amount of the customer’s bank account and the amount of the missing interest is irrelevant. At what point do you think a customer does have a right to not just drop it? $10? $100? How big would the discrepency have to be before it would become a story about how awful the bank is instead of what a jerk the customer is?
Sorry if I misunderstood your story and there really wasn’t a problem with the interest but rather he just thought there was, but I read it as the bank having genuinely made an error.
I thought you said it wasn’t the principle of the thing at all, but the interest. 
I’ve had my share of horror stories- threats and guns and sleaze and outright rudeness. But for some reason this guy- who occupied nearly an entire night of my time- makes it to the top. Any one of these things alone would have been something I could handle without blinking an eye. But the grand combination and the way he made this an ongoing saga, especially at three AM in the morning, rockets him up to the top of my bad customer list.
Here is another favorite- please feel free to share your own.
Me=Me, early twenties college graduate working as a hostess at Denny’s
MM= Morroco Man
Me: That is a really interesting necklace.
MM: Thanks, it’s a Berber cross.
Me: thinking mmhmm, a Berber cross.
MM: It’s from Mo-rocc-o.
Me thinking Yep, thats where there Berbers are from all right.
MM: Thats in A-fric-a.
Me: Oh yeah? I’m going to India next week.
Asshole.
In my experience (harrumph) “It’s the principle” usually means “I’m doing something really stupid and a**hole-ish.”
In general I agree with you. But IIRC the CSR promised to raise it as an issue and get back to the guy. Instead, the guy sat there for three hours, and would not leave until the CSR fixed the problem. Like he had the time, expertise, and resources to rewrite the software.
My sister told me this one:
This one customer drank everything in the minibar and tried refilling all the bottles with water.
I once kicked in a door at the hotel when a guy was beating the hell out of his girlfriend.
I heard a commotion upstairs, and ran up to see a guy dragging a girl into the room by her hair. Without thinking, I charged forward, kicked in the door, and stared him down. How I managed to break that door, I’ll never know, because it was quite heavy and solid, but it yeilded to my Buffy-like kick as if it were made of plywood.
Most wife-beaters are cowards. I used to work in a battered women’s shelter, so I’ve been around these guys quite a bit. I really wasn’t scared at the time. I gave him the look that my mother used to give me when I was being naughty as a child-- a look that could stop a charging rhino and blister the paint right off the walls. It worked. All he did was shout at me as I ushered the sobbing woman down to my office and called the cops.
My husband was horrified. I’m tiny-- only about 5’4’’ and’ 115 lbs, nor am I trained in self defense. I suppose if he’d attacked me I might have been hurt, but I wasn’t thinking about it at the time.
Ugh. I was on a group tour in Brazil, and one of the other rooms did that with all the bottle water. They drank it all, then replaced it with tap water and put the caps back on, hoping no one would notice.
Because, you know, the tap water at an out of the way pousada in a backwater town in the interior of Brazil won’t kill any… oh, yeah, I guess it might.
I had all that happen while I worked there, and more.
I shall never forget, 'til my dying day, the Great Shit Fest.
A well-dressed couple rented a room, but only stayed for a couple of hours. The next morning, the maid ran out of the room, choking and gagging, tears running down her cheeks. Had I not seen it, I doubt I would have believed it.
They had smeared shit over every surface in the room, the walls, the phone, the lampshades, the furniture . . . everything. There was shit ground into the carpet. They had pulled back all of the bedding, and ground shit into the mattress. I’ve never seen so much shit in my life, and my grandfather owns a horse stable! I can’t believe that two human beings could produce so much shit-- they must have been holding it back for days in preperation for their bacchanal.
The stench was truly impressive-- a smell that instantly earns your respect, a smell that could knock you off your feet, singe the hair in your nose, and put you off your Wheaties for days. It was an odor which could make the gods themselves howl in protest. Two maids quit rather than having to clean rooms in the same hallway. I suggested we just burn the hotel and rebuild.
Lissa They were charged for the cleaning of the room… right? :eek:
Eh?
Good god, why would anyone do that? Were there any nasty messages written on the wall (in shit, of course), to give you a hint as to why their extreme, passionate hatred was directed at your particular establishment?
Enderw24, I think even sven was calling him an asshole because he was talking to her like she was a moron because she worked at Denny’s. Of course, if you work in any service industry and get your panties in a bunch about someone talking down to you, you’re sure as hell not going to last very long, I’ll tell you that much.
Nope.
They paid cash, and letters to the address they gave were returned by the post office.
We started taking copies of drivers’ licenses of cash-paying guests after that.
I figured that was what she was going for, but I would wager that a good percentage of the population, Denny’s worker or not, doesn’t know where Morocco is. An even greater percentage (I’ll be charitable and say 90%), wouldn’t know that a Berber cross had anything to do with Morocco.
And by Even Sven’s own account, she was just standing there not responding to anything he said! You can think all you want. Heck, you can be reciting speeches in your head from Morrocan diplomats to the UN in their original language for all I care. You never said anything.
If I was in his position, I’d continue to dumb down my comments until the person wanting to know the information finally showed some inkling that she understood the words coming out of my mouth. My next comment would have been “Africa is a large clump of earth way across a big puddle of water. It’s not part of America where we are now.”
She posted what we grown-ups call a com-plaint to a happy place called a mes-sage board where grown-ups talk about im-por-tant things.
Probably not, but that’s no reason to talk to someone in a patronizing way.
Fair enough!
And again, I definitely agree that he didn’t have to be a jerk about it, even if he had been right.
Wow. That is so cool. Someone intervened on my behalf once…I hope that girl was grateful.