There is hardly anything in the world that some man can’t make a little worse and sell a little cheaper, and the people who consider price only are this man’s lawful prey.
JOHN RUSKIN
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The generation gap proved glaringly obvious at the mail-order music company where my wife works as a customer service representative. Some college students, who were working part-time inputting customer information, wrote the following notes regarding some golden oldies: "Customer is looking for two song titles: ‘Shovel Off Two Buffaloes’ and ‘Honey, Suck a Rose.’ "
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During a shopping trip to a department store, I was looking around for a salesperson so I could pay for my purchase. Finally I ran into a woman wearing the store’s ID tag. "Excuse me," I said. "I’m trying to locate a cashier."
"I can’t help you," she briskly replied, barely slowing down. "I work in customer service." And she walked away.
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On the back of a septic-service company truck:
“Satisfaction guaranteed, or your merchandise cheerfully refunded.”
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After being on the phone forever with a customer who had been having difficulties with a computer program, a support technician at my mother’s company turned in his report: "The problem resides between the keyboard and the chair."
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During the mortgage closing on our summer house, my wife and I were asked to sign documents containing small print. When I asked if I should read it, my attorney replied, “Legally, you should. But here’s the bottom line: If you pay your installments on time, there is nothing in there that could harm you. Should you stop paying, however, there is definitely nothing in the small print that can save you.”
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Bad weather meant I was stuck overnight at O’Hare airport in Chicago. Along with hotel accommodations, the airline issued each passenger a $10 meal ticket, or “chit.” That evening after dinner I presented my meal ticket to the cashier.
“Is this chit worth $10?” I asked.
Looking up nervously, the cashier responded, “I’m sorry, sir. Was the meal that bad?”
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My wife and I run a small restaurant where we often name our specials after our employees—dishes like “Chicken Mickey,” after our dishwasher who gave us the recipe, and “Rod’s Ribs,” after a waiter who had his personal style of barbecue. One evening after rereading the menu, I broke with this tradition and changed the description of the special we had named after our chef.
Despite her skills and excellent reputation, somehow I didn’t think an entrée named “Salmon Ella” would go over big with our customers.
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The speaker at my bank’s drive-through window had been broken for weeks, and we tellers had to resort to miming or writing notes to communicate with our frustrated customers. One day a sweet elderly lady whom I would see every week pulled up to the window, leaned out of her car and smacked the glass in front of my face.
“Hope this is bulletproof,” she yelled.
There had just been a robbery at another bank nearby, so I was touched by her concern. “It is,” I yelled back.
“Good,” she continued, “because someone is going to shoot you if you don’t get that speaker fixed.”
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I couldn’t decide whether to go to Salt Lake City or Denver for vacation, so I called the airlines to get prices. “Airfare to Denver is $300,” the cheery salesperson replied.
“And what about Salt Lake City?”
“We have a really great rate to Salt Lake—$99,” she said “But there is a stopover.”
“Where?”
“In Denver,” she said.
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A woman noticed her husband standing on the bathroom scale, sucking in his stomach. “Ha! That’s not going to help,” she said.
“Sure, it does,” he said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”
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When asked for his name by the coffee shop clerk, my brother-in-law answered, “Marc, with a C.” Minutes later, he was handed his coffee with his name written on the side: Cark.
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The black lacquer stand
holding his prized samurai swords was dusty, so my husband left our cleaning lady a note, reading, “Check out my swords.” That evening, he found the stand just as dirty as
before but with this appended to
his note: “Nice swords.”
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I once gave my husband the
silent treatment for an entire week, at the end of which he declared, “Hey, we’re getting along pretty great lately!”
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I’ve been working on my PhD
in engineering for the past five years, but my kids don’t necessarily see that as work.
As we were driving past Walmart one day, my son spotted a Now Hiring sign and suggested that I could get
a job there.
Hoping to make a point, I asked, “Do you think they’re looking for an engineer?”
“Oh, sure,” he said. “They’ll hire anybody.”
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I guess this is what happens after you’ve worked at the same place for a while. I was eating at a fast-food restaurant when an employee began his shift by walking into the kitchen area and calling out, “Honey, I’m home!”
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Before google, there were librarians. Here are some queries posed to the poor, suffering staff of public libraries:
• A woman wanted “inspirational material on grass and lawns.”
• “Who built the English Channel?”
• “Is there a full moon every night in Acapulco?”
• “Music suitable for a doll wedding to take place between a Shirley
Temple doll and a teddy bear.”
• “Can the New York Public Library recommend a good forger?”
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Good morning everyboomie.
Welcome to your weekend!
I hope it's everything you want it to be. You know, happily ever after and all that. Just like your perfect birthday.
I had a very nice day out at the peanuts farm Friday. I didn't see Charlie Brown or Snoopy, but my little nosy Baby was there with me.
I didn't anything but a half a point, but had a good time walking around and enjoying nature, sinus drainage, cough, and all.
We didn't have to fight off any snakes either.
We'll do that Sunday at the creek.
As for today, I am working at Lowe's DIY home charm store.
Have a happy day everyone.
joe
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To all here and all who stop in later, have a Great Saturday. Danish, BB Pancakes, and Bacon and Eggs in the NC. 
We have some sun today so hope it melts away!!
Have an easy peasy day!
