Fucking hilarious, I’ll be right back I have to get a towel to wipe off my monitor.
Several years ago I hit a deer with my car on a rural interstate. A passerby helpfully called the State Police for me, and eventually a state trooper showed up and walked over to where I was morosely staring at my broken radiator pissing antifreeze all over the side of the road. The coversation started out like this:
COP (pointing at the dead deer): “Is that the deer you hit?”
ME: “Yeah.”
WHAT I WANTED TO SAY: “No, that’s it’s partner–I caught it and tortured it as an example to others.”
COP (nodding at the antifreeze leaking out of the front of my car): “Is that the damage the deer did?”
Me: “Uh huh.”
WHAT I WANTED TO SAY: “No, I got all mad and kicked the fucking thing to death.”
Pennsylvania’s finest in action.
A few gems from my movie theater days:
“What time is your 7 o’clock show?”
Uh, that would be 7 o’clock
“Will I get a ticket if I park there?”
Yes. If you don’t put a quarter in the meter and a meter maid comes by, you will, in fact, get a ticket. If s/he doesn’t come by: NO. If you put a quarter in: NO.
“Will the show be sold out?”
Let me check my Magic 8-Ball – “My sources tell me NO!”
“Is this a good movie?”
(This is only stupid because no matter what I answered, they wanted to argue about it. If I said “Yes” they said “Oh, you have to say that!” If I said “No” they said “Hahaha, no really…is it good?”)
“Do you have a bathroom?”
No, we sell 3-gallon drinks and have NO BATHROOM!
And my personal fave:
“Do you make your own popcorn?”/“Is this popcorn fresh?”
As they watch it spilling out of the kettle and filling the lobby with smoke.
Since no one else said it, Lexi…
Your OP rant was sterling. 
You’ve got Dennis Miller down.
Actually, I know of a couple of Italian restaurants that don’t serve Italian dressing. They serve their own creamy house dressing (but don’t you DARE call it Italian salad dressing!) or they’ll give you oil and vinegar cruets so you can do it yourself. But what they serve is NOT what most people think of as Italian salad dressing.
I worked at a fast food chain restaurant that got its name from a certain ex-cowboy movie star for about a year while I was in college. This chain had long had the policy of serving its burgers without any condiments, and providing a “Fixin’s Bar” ™ so that customers could add whatever they wanted. The idea worked rather well - people with unusual tastes could be accomodated (if you like your bacon cheeseburger loaded with pickles, mustard, and horseradish sauce, that’s your business), and the condiments were cold and reasonably fresh when the customer got to them, if you can imagine. But somebody at corporate HQ decided that this was cutting into the take-out business, and decided to introduce “Express” burgers. These had lettuce, onions, tomato, pickle, and I believe mayo already on them. Since we were in a university building, our “take-out business” was mostly confined to coffees and sodas, but we had to introduce these anyway.
So, true story:
Customer: “What’s the difference between the 1/4 pound Cheeseburger and the 1/4 pound Cheeseburger Express?”
flodnak: “The cheeseburger is just 1/4 pound of ground beef, yellow American cheese, and a bun. You take it over there to the Fixin’s Bar and add whatever you would like. The Cheeseburger Express is the same burger, but with lettuce, onions, tomato, pickle, and mayonnaise already on it. The price is the same.”
C: <long pause to think> “So could I get a Cheeseburger Express, except I don’t want lettuce.”
f: “That would be a grill order, sir. I’m sure we could do it, but it would be faster for you to either take a regular Cheeseburger Express and pick the lettuce off, or just order a cheeseburger and add what you’d like at the Fixin’s Bar.”
C: “I don’t want lettuce juice on my burger.” (Yes, Lord help me, lettuce juice. I’ve met some picky eaters in my day, but this is the only time I’ve heard of the concept of lettuce juice.)
f: “Sir, I could put in a grill order for you, but that will take three or four minutes. I could give you a regular cheeseburger now and you’d be at the table and eating long before that.” (I didn’t add that, knowing the grill folks the way I did, one of them would probably add a heapin’ helpin’ of nasal mucous to the mayo, all in the name of Western Hospitality.)
C: “But I want the tomatoes and stuff.”
f: “Yes, sir. You can put all those things on at the Fixin’s Bar.”
C: “Are they the same tomatoes?”
f: “Yessir.” (Same rock-hard, underripe, tasteless greenhouse tomatoes we always use here at Fake Western Hamburger Place.)
C: <loooooong pause until customer behind clears her throat loudly> “Okay, then. A regular cheeseburger. As long as you’re sure they’re the same tomatoes.”
Yes, the same tomatoes. And they’re in their own separate stainless steel bin, so they won’t be contaminated by the dread lettuce juice :rolleyes:
Oh, you want Theater stories, I’ll give you Theater stories… (I quit from my job at the local Theater a few weeks back- quite liberating, let me assure you).
Several times I had people ask me if they could get a discount since their friend/relative is a prominent figure in the Theater chain. One girl even insisted that she should get free food since her uncle was the mayor of the city. It was always a great joy to say “No” to those people.
“How big is your large drink?” Not so much a stupid question as it is a sign of horrible observation problems. We had a disply showing the drink sizes less than two feet away from every cash register.
“Can I go into the movie now?” “Uh, no, sorry, the last movie isn’t done yet.” “So? Can I go in now?” “Uh, no, sorry, etc.” Repeat.
The absolute kicker was the woman who wanted to know if the butter on the popcorn was pure butter. I responded that it was 99.9% pure butter. She didn’t believe me, so I opened the butter dispenser and showed her the box, where it was clearly labeled as 99.9% pure butter. She still didn’t believe me, so she insisted that I call the company and ask for clarification. I informed her that I didn’t have a phone at the concession stand, and she’d need to ask a manager over at Guest Services. She asked why I couldn’t do it. Again, I explain that there isn’t a phone over at the concession stand, but to be helpful, I pull out the little walkie-talkie and tell the guys over at Guest Services that a customer has a question. Five minutes later, I notice one of the managers on the phone. I asked him later if he really called the supplier… he didn’t. 
The Scene: lunchtime at KFC. I’m standing behind a customer who seems to be having problems with the menu.
KFC offers several types of combo meals. You get a set number of chicken pieces (OR strips, or wings or whatever), and a side vegetable. I wound up waiting in line behind this customer (Educated, at least educated enough to form complete sentences)who got irate because the cashier kept asking her what kind of chicken she wanted (Original, crispy, roasted), and what kind of side she wanted.
She was irate because she thought the pictures of the combos on the menus were the only way the combos were served.
Now, I can understand being in a hurry, and not really reading the menu. I can overlook the fact that this person has apparently never seen a KFC commercial in her life.
What I didn’t get was just how angry she became at the fact that she was being offered choices. This person was a living example of Sheep Mentality.
I think for some reason I’ve been having the opposite problem of Nacho’s. I wish people would ask whether I work here because I DON’T. For some reason, maybe it’s the way I dress or something, whenever I go to a library or bookstore or the like people start asking me questions. It confuses me, why they are asking me this, and I try to answer with what I know, and then I realize that they think I’m an employee. The other day I was at the university’s slide library, and a professor type approaches me and asks if I can help him given “my vast knowledge.” At first I’m flattered, thinking he knows my advisor and what I study, etc., so I try to help and say, “OK, I only know the place a bit, but these should be over in graphics. . .” and then I realize he thinks I’m workstudy there, and add, “but Jaime over there, she works here and knows about the system far better than I do.”
URGH.
I just came back from the bank. There is no need to identify this particular bank, let’s just say it rhymes with Skank of America.
I gave the teller the coupon for my car payemt, along with the check made out for $200.00. The coupon indicates that the regular payment due is $199.97. The teller looks at me and asks:
I furrowed by brow for a moment, trying to figure out what other option the teller might be considering.
Perhaps I wanted to invest the remaning 3¢ in a CD? With a 5.09% return, that could be quite a handsome payout in the event I became trapped in suspended animation & was revived in ten thousand years.
Maybe I wanted a 3¢ savings bond, after the maturity date on which I would be cashing in for a lump sum amount of twice the face value.
Maybe she was hoping for a tip. Certainly I would be the first to say out loud that her efforts were worth at least 3¢. Hell, I might have even gone as high as a nickel for tellers who go that extra millimeter.
Maybe she thought I was a little short on cash today, and instead of going to the ATM I wrote the check for an additional amount to get some cash back. Then I realized that I am in the non-account holder’s line and they wouldn’t be able to give me cash back on a check that draws on an account at another bank.
What else could it be? Why was this a puzzle for this woman? Is there some federal regulation that requires tellers to look like morons by forcing them to ask idiotic questions?
I don’t know if this falls into the realm of “stupid” questions, as it’s more of a Just Not an Effecient Means of Gaining Information (JNEMGI? Nah, that’s too much trouble to remember). It’s annoying enough, though, as I usually have to face it about every other day or so. Imagine if you will, the following scenario:
me: do de do do do (sound of me working dilligently, minding my own business)
idiotic co-worker (from across the room): Pagan, why isn’t this working?
me: why isn’t what working?
icw: This! Why is it saying that?
me: (sigh) Why is what saying what?
icw: This right here! Why is it doing that?
me: grumble…(get up and walk over to icw’s workspace… What is it that isn’t working?
icw: (points vaugely at computer screen) This! I can’t get it to work!
me: (takes a look at error message on screen, tries to deduce what icw could have been trying to do)…Your num lock key isn’t on. grumble (walks back to desk).
icw: Well, you could have just said so!
me: grumblegrumblegrumble
Blargh. If you have a freaking question, just ask it! Don’t make me have to waste my time trying to guess what you’re talking about!
I had a similar conversation with a teller at my small-town bank recently. Our house payment is $188 and change, and we always pay $200. The teller told me that some people get annoyed when she assumes they want cash back, and others get annoyed when she assumes they want to pay the whole amount. So now she always asks.
Now you may say it should have been obvious with 3 cents, but for all she knows, you might have found it easier to write “two hundred” on the check rather than “one hundred ninety-nine and 97/100.” It’s her job to make sure everything comes out to the penny. I think in this case it was a simple clarifying question. I’d have just said, “Yes, please,” and gone on with my day.
That said, I’m thoroughly enjoying the rest of this thread!
I’m hangin with my boss, we’re doing a large footer for this guy with a pretty nice hillside property just outside of Richmond. So my boss cuts into this hillside, levels out a foundation pad and digs out the footers & bulkheads.
Well we come to work the next day to put rebar in and find that some of the water table has leaked into our ditches. So this guys wife (we’re doing the job for) asks us, “is our house is going to wash away?” I just laughed, looked at her and said, “no.” Hehe, some people are so dumb. But hey, they amuse me!
That’s exactly what I did, not wanting to have a long protracted conversation through three inches of soundproof plexiglass. However, as I said in this case I was clearly in the non-account holder’s line and therefore (follow me closely here) they knew I didn’t have an account there. Giving cash back on a check that draws on another bank is not possible since they can’t know if the check is any good.
Now you may say that it’s no big deal with only three cents but as you correctly point out, it is her job to chase every single penny.
Have a nice day.
I just wanted to pop back in and say
“Thanks, Gadarene. That was a very cool thing for you say.”
And in the interest of the topic, let me relate this to you:
Back-story:
I still work in tech support. As soon as I finish my MCSE I’m outta there, but for now I have to suffer.
I’ve been with my current company for a few years, so I’m not a low man on the totem pole, but I’m not a big-whig either. In any case, they have recently changed the rules so that EVERYONE has to take calls. Usually I just answer e-mail and handle escalated situations, but now I have to take calls in my “down-time”.
So:
I take this call. Should be easy I think, because the lady just needs help installing Windows 98SE after a format/reload. She got stuck entering the Product Key because it wouldn’t accept it. 9 times out of 10, they’ve mis-typed it, but there’s always the 1 time that they’re typing in the wrong number, like a UPC off a box of pop tarts they meant to mail in for a free glow-in-the-dark gummi-Jesus with real strawberry blood and chocolate cross.
Anyway, I have to figure out what her problem is: mis-type or wrong number. Now, you must know that Windows 98SE product keys do not contain certain characters. They do not contain vowels for one thing. This is usually the easiest way to determine if it’s the right number.
The conversation:
Lex: Allright. <explain as above about PIDs and vowels and all that.> So does it have any vowels in it?
Stupid Lady: Yes.
L: Okay, that means you’re using the wrong number. You’ll have to try and find the right one. 25-characters, 5 sets of 5, no vowels.
SL: But, but but. This is the one I used the last time I installed it! It worked then, I KNOW this is the right one.
L: Ma’am, if it has vowels in it, you must be mistaken. Windows 98SE PIDs do not contain vowels under any circumstances.
SL: Then why did it work last time?
L: It didn’t. You have the wrong number.
SL: Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Just tell me why this isn’t working.
L: I don’t want to argue with you either. But like I said, it’s not working because you have the wrong number.
SL: <screaming> NO I DON’T! I FILED IT SO I WOULD KNOW IT WAS THE RIGHT ONE! I AM VERY ORGANIZED, I KNOW IT’S RIGHT, NOW WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?!?
L: <calm as summer day> Ma’am, I really want to help you, but you’re not listening to me… If the number you enter has vowels in it, you have the wrong number. If not, you most likely just mis-typed it.
SL: Well, it has vowels in it and it worked last time, so you must be wrong.
L: <starting to suspect what problem is> Are you sure it has vowels in it?
SL: <screaming like a harpy again> YES! YES! IT HAS VOWELS! VOWELS LIKE “M” AND “Z”!!!
L: <still calm, trying REALLY hard not to laugh his ass off> Oh. Ma’am, I was talking about the other vowels… you know, A-E-I-O-U-and-sometimes-Y? Does it have any of those? Hello? Hello?
See, it’s people like this that really get under my skin. Instead of admitting they are an idiot and trying to get along in the world, they convince themselves that they are smart and the world is wrong.
What kind of person whose primary language is English doesn’t know what a vowel is?
To answer my own stupid question: A stupid-ass fuckin’ person!
These are cracking me up, especially the 3 cents one!
Spoofe reminded me of more theater nonsense:
“What sizes do you have?”
Huh? What sizes ARE there? I mean we could CALL them any thing we wanted but doesn’t it all break down into “Small, medium, and large?” I was always tempted to say “jumbo, gi-normous, and downright excessive” or “Really big, not-quite-so-big, and littler-than-the-not-quite-so-big.”
When I’d ask if they’d like butter-flavored topping on their corn they’d ask “what is that exactly?” (That’s not the dumb part, that’s perfectly reasonable.)
Me: “It’s actually a soybean oil product.”
customer: “But what IS it?”
Me: “Soy oil!”
customer: “Well, what’s it called?”
Me: “Butter Flavored Topping!” at which point I’d pull the jug out of the cupboard and show them the enormous label that said “Butter Flavored Topping – ingredients: Soybean Oil.” (My experience running a theater has taught me that the public assumes everyone working in public service is a compulsive liar or something. Why would I lie about something like that?)
I never had people try to get a discount because of knowing someone (mainly because all the people qualifying for this in our chain had yearly passes, etc) but every so often I’d get someone off the street just asking to see the movie for free. I mean, I was “already running the movie and it wasn’t sold out so it wouldn’t cost me anything and why should he have to pay?” What?!?! Some people were really persistent, even after I politely explained the difference between a charity and a for-profit business establishment, the concept of paying for a service provided, and the fact that at any given time one of the company’s auditors could show up and do a head vs. ticket-stub count and find the discrepancy. “Well, yeah, but you have the authority to let people see the movie for free, right? Like other employees and stuff, right?” Etc, etc. Talk about missing the point! Bizarre!
My alltime favorite (and I’ve mentioned this before) is the people who pick up some sort of technical term and try to throw it at me without knowing what it means. The greatest example of this is the guy who called up and asked if a certain movie was playing on my “70mm screen.” Now at some point this guy had seen something shown in 70mm, which refers to the size of the film itself (twice the size of regular 35mm stock so the projection is half as grainy.) I explained to the guy that 70mm refers to the size of the film, not the screen size and that specific film wasn’t released in 70mm. He completely ignored that and said “but you have a 70mm screen, I saw (whatever) there on it.” I replied “Sir, think about it. A 70mm screen would be about the size of a Post-it note.” He huffed “Well if you don’t know what you’re talking about, why don’t you just say so!” and hung up. LOL!
I’m in computer retail/repairs and I had two winners this week.“I’m looking for a 15 year old computer, do you sell any of those?” and “Can you tell me what software your competitors carry?”
Back a few years ago I worked as Receptionist/Secretary for a Mall Management Office, which included such duties as answering general questions from the public. The following conversation resulted one day when the phone rang:
ME: “Hello, Northgate Mall. How can I help you?”
Voice on the other end (female in her teens): “Hi, I’m looking for this. . . store?”
Long pause.
Me: “Uh huh? Do you know the name of it?”
Voice: “No. . . ?”
Pause.
Me: “Ok. Do you know where it’s located?”
Voice: “It’s in the Mall.”
(DUH!)
Me: “Ok, do you know what part of the Mall it’s in?”
Voice: “No. But it’s in the Mall.”
(We’ve established that. Time to try another tack.)
Me: Do you know what they sell?"
Voice: “They sell. . . clothes?”
(Now we’ve narrowed it down from 101 stores to 35. Great help!!)
Me: “What kind of clothes?”
Voice: “You know. . . . clothes!”
At this point I started reeling off the names of clothing stores that might appeal to teenagers. After about the 10th name (Penneys? Nope. The Bon? Nope. Express? Nope, ad absurdum) the voice breaks in with:
“Um, what mall is this?”
Me: “This is Northgate Mall.”
Voice: “Oh. I was calling Southcenter.” CLICK
(AARGH!!!)
OK, admittedly she might have been somewhat young, but PLEASE! Use your brain, that enormous growth between your ears in the round thing three feet above your a@@!!
When I read this I thought of my late father. And I agree,
5 minutes of laughing with him would be worth the world.
Sigh.
Working Army Finance, I have gotten a few stupid questions. The best (or dumbest) was from a SFC (E-7) while in Turkey, he asked if we recieved a xmas bonus since we were in a contry that does not celibrat it. Had to laugh out loud for that one and then explain to him that the Army is not in the busness of passing out religious bonuses, because if we did then the Pagens would be making a lot of money back in the States.
The other biggie was while I was in Saudi Arabia this past summer, I had to go to the range. I brought a pair of work gloves to protect my hands from the heat of the desert. A 1LT upon seeing my gloves asked me if I thought that my M-16 would get hot enuff to need the gloves. Supressing laughter I told him yes but wanted to say… lets do the math here sir, the M-16 is metal and black, we are in Saudi in July, yes it will get that hot. But I still got the last laugh, he burned the tip of his nose on the rifle.