I’m digging this one out of the failosophy vault in solidarity with my buddy over at nihilippie.blogspot.com, because working in customer service in any capacity fucking sucks.

What do you HAVE here?
Do you guys sell crepes?
Where’s the salad bar?
Is this non-fat?
Where’s the ice cream?
Is it kosher?
Is it halal?
Can you do 10 jumping jacks for me?
Can you hit your head and rub your belly at the same time?
Can I have a protein smoothie even though I know you don’t have the equipment or ingredients to make one?
Where’s the bathroom?
Can I have the bathroom?
Make me an omelette.
Can you work harder?
Can you go faster?
Can you burp me?
Are you open?
Are you closed?
Do you have almond milk?
Why is everything so expensive?
Why is the sky blue?
What do you mean you don’t know?
Can you cut my rice krispie square into 24 equal pieces for my bratty fucking children?
Have you seen my husband?
Can you bake me a cake?
Recite pi to 150 digits after the decimal point please.
What’s the deal with airline food?
Can you read me the bible until I fall asleep?
Do you guys sell the newspaper?
WHAT’S THE CONCEPT.


Always. Wrong.