We have a regular customer who, frankly, we all wish would just go away. Oh, the stories I could tell, she’s an absolute pain in the ass every time she shows up. I’ve always suspected that her grip on reality is tenuous at best; well, last night was pretty damning evidence that I’m right. She came in and bought a few things, including a single can of Sprite, paid for her stuff, and left. The only thing not normal up to this point was the fact that she HADN’T made a single snarky, holier-than-thou comment.
Fast forward about a half hour and she’s back, raising hell because that (now-empty) can of Sprite was – gasp! – DENTED.
Not punctured, aside from the usual spot where you pop it open. DENTED. And very, very empty.
Yes, she finished the drink. Did it taste odd? No. Was the soda flat? Uh-uh. Her entire beef was focused on the dime-sized dent in the EMPTY can.
I tried, I really did, to see her problem. I mean, okay, the can is dented – but by her own admission, it didn’t affect the taste or fizziness of her drink in any way. She, in fact, FINISHED the drink and was now waving an empty, disposable can in my face complaining there’s a dent on it. And she’s getting more agitated by the moment because I can’t seem to comprehend the issue. Finally, she stomped out, muttering, and tore off out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.
Yeah, this hit about 9.0 on my Weird-Shit-O-Meter.
Fast forward about a half hour and she’s back, raising hell because that (now-empty) can of Sprite was – gasp! – DENTED.
Not punctured, aside from the usual spot where you pop it open. DENTED. And very, very empty.
Yes, she finished the drink. Did it taste odd? No. Was the soda flat? Uh-uh. Her entire beef was focused on the dime-sized dent in the EMPTY can.
I tried, I really did, to see her problem. I mean, okay, the can is dented – but by her own admission, it didn’t affect the taste or fizziness of her drink in any way. She, in fact, FINISHED the drink and was now waving an empty, disposable can in my face complaining there’s a dent on it. And she’s getting more agitated by the moment because I can’t seem to comprehend the issue. Finally, she stomped out, muttering, and tore off out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.
Yeah, this hit about 9.0 on my Weird-Shit-O-Meter.
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