Things you wish you were allowed to say to customers at work

I long for the day when I can ask one of the frequent flyers at Family Court: "Okay, I get it. He’s scum. He’s a dirtbag. He’s a crack addicted, violent, womanizing, alcoholic, sociopathic guy who makes $3,000 a week off the books and never contributes a penny to the upkeep of any of the hordes of barefoot, welfare recipient shorties he’s dumped into the gene pool with the assistance of a half-dozen ignorant, lying slut women.

How does it happen that you didn’t notice this BEFORE you let him get you pregnant five times?"

What dangerous stock phrase has been hanging balefully on the end of your tongue awaiting the day you win the lottery and can afford to be fired? (Not directed at bosses – directed at customers, patrons, clients, what have you.) And watch out – this is NOT the pit.

“No sh*t your internet isn’t working. If you and your screaming hellspawn weren’t such addle-pated halfwits, and kept your sticky hooves out of the settings then there wouldn’t be a problem. You need to return your computer to the nearest store, and get yourself an abacus, because clearly the concept of ‘technology’ is much too difficult for you to grasp.”

Me to music promoters calling our music directors:

“I realize that you’re in the music industry, which means you’re probably too coked up to remember, but Trevor does not take music calls after noon. Oh, and the emo buttons you sent were ugly, but the T-shirts were nice. They barely left streaks when we used them to clean the station.”

Robin, who can’t be fired because she’s a volunteer.

I work in telecom and our smallest customers are always the biggest pains. We’ll get calls from people saying “My T1 is down and I’m losing thousands of dollars every minute”.

I always want to reply, “You know, if my $200 a month T1 earned $1000 a minute, I think I’d be smart enough to crack open the old checkbook and pay another $200 for a backup T1.”


Two things depending on which type of client…

“I’ve seen better paintings done by my niece… and she’s only 2 years old. You paid how many tens of thousands of dollars for that and really want me to hang it on your wall?”


“Haven’t you heard they passed a new law? Artists and sculpturers are now limited to creating items that only they themselves can lift and carry. Nothing heavier than 50 lbs, and only made of sturdy materials that won’t break with the slightest touch.”

“No, your birth certificate is NOT a photo ID. Do you SEE a photo on it? If it **DID **have a photo, don’t you think it would be out of date by now? Effing moron!” ::pant pant pant:::

“F*ck off.”

That would be my number one choice to say to some clients.

“In your four years of drinking beer and pulling a 2.5 in an undemanding major, did it ever occur to you that you would graduate and need a job one day?”

“Good, we don’t want you here.” (When they pull the whole, “I’m never shopping at this store again!”)

To people who come in the evening before they need their massively important duplication or extremely complicated equipment setup and freak out when I tell them we need more advanced notice:

“Didn’t think of that sooner, didja? What, other people who got there first get preference? Thought you could just waltz in here and we’d drop everything to accomodate your extremely important needs, eh? Well SHOCK and HORROR! You’re not the center of the universe! HAHAHAHAHAAA!! NOW YOU’RE GONNA FAIL, PROCRASTINATOR!”

But instead I just sit there and look/sound sympathetic.

What the HELL kind of doctor are you??! You want a Southern Blot test done, and you send in PLASMA?? What, were you sleeping through that day of med school? Gimme your patients’ records, I want to call them and tell them their physician is an idiot.

I would like an exchange to go something like this:

Me: Yo, Diosabellissima’s Sweet Ass Tax Service
Person: Yo can I talk to ______?
Me: Sure. May I ask what this call is regarding?
Person: My taxes.
:: me bangs head on desk::
Me: No shit, you goddamn idiot! I thought you were calling to discuss the current political hostility in South Africa! Perhaps you want to also discuss the inflation of the Euro? I think I fucking KNOW you are calling about your taxes- what the fuck else would you be calling about?!? :smack:

In reality:
Me: Um, just one moment please (puts on hold). Yo ___, Client X is on the phone.
___: What is it about?
Me: Their taxes
___: …um? Right…next time ask them what the call was about

And I continue slamming my head on the desk.

I’m sorry. If you can’t be bothered to save your file in four hours, I’m not going to try to recover it when you freeze your system up by having 100 windows open. :wally

To the people who feel the need to inform me that their taxes pay my salary:

“No shit? Mine too. Plus I’m TRAINED in this job, and you’re not, so guess who’s in control here? I’ll give you a hint, dimwit: It ain’t you.”

Sometimes I just wish I could ignore what my customers say in the same way that they ignore me.

Alternatively, I feel like saying “Did I ask you about ‘X’? No, I don’t think I did. [McEnroe]Answer the question, jerk![/McEnroe]”

I get some people who tell me what they think I need to know, even after I have asked them for a specific bit of information. :smack:

Failure to plan on yiur part does not constitute an emergency on my part.
Yes, please switch to our competitor, so you can drain THIER resources.
So don’t do that, then.

For context, Fionn, where you do you work?

I work at an internal help desk for a company with thousands of white vans who drive all around the company working on all kinds of stuff, from locksmith business to electronics.
The managers keep sending guys who are only qualified on locks on my electronics calls. I’ve had a 72-year-old locksmith who I was expected to have repair some tables in an SQL Server.
I have to support them. If they have a pulse, I have to get 'er done.

My quote:
“Please call your supervisor. Inform him that he is doing you, me, himself and our high-paying customer a disservice by sending you out wholly unqualified not only to work on the equipment you’re working on, but even the category of equipment you’re working on.”

At a drugstore: “Aw, gee, you know I failed Xavier’s class in telepathy, so, you know, standing there and pointing over my shoulder ain’t gonna help a lot, bub…”

(I actually said something to this effect once. The person just stared at me blankly, like a cow interrupted from chewing its cud, blinked and kept pointing. head, meet desk)