"Good morning, Gun Shop. This is GunDiva, how may I help you?" (I totally rock at answering the phone, unlike the guys, just so you know.)
"Yes, I just talked to corporate and they told me to call you." (Corporate? We don't have a corporate, but being the bright one I am, I quickly deduce he's talking about a gun manufacturer who we do warranty repair work for.)
"Great. What can I do for you?"
"The nickle plating is peeling off of my pistol and S. at corporate told me that you guys would fix it for free."
"No problem," I begin to give him shipping directions.
"Well and there's a problem with the ejector. Sometimes it doesn't eject and sometimes it double feeds. Can you fix that, too? S. at corporate told me you'd fix it for free since it's got a lifetime warranty."
My brain filter failed at that point, "So, your real problem is that the gun doesn't work."
"But the nickle plating is peeling off and she promised that you'd re-plate it for free."
"Yes, we will. But, the gun doesn't actually work, right?"
"Right, but you'll fix the nickle plating?"
At that point, I handed him off to our tech, who will actually be doing the repair work. But I couldn't get over the fact that he was more upset about the finish on his gun than the fact that his gun didn't freaking work!
Don't know about you, but I'd rather shoot an ugly gun that, you know, shoots than own a pretty one that doesn't.
"Gun Shop. Help ya?" (See? I told you, I rock at answering the phone compared to the guys.)
Pause, a head nod.
"You do realize we're a gun shop?"
Pause, deep breath.
"Ma'am, we only advertise with companies that support our Right to Keep and Bear Arms." (Ok, he gets the line of the day for that one!)
Apparently, the advertising rep who wanted our advertising dollars did not work for a company who supported our Right to Keep and Bear Arms, for she reportedly said, "Oh. Um. Have a nice day," and hung up.
And, finally, here's a sampling of an actual resume that the owner received...
"I have spent a good part of my life in the woods and consider myself a very experienced hunter and fisherman. I also lived in a cabin in the mountains, surviving by foraging off the land and hunting raccoons for furs to sell. I trained my dog to tree the coons and because I couldn't afford a gun, I would knock them out of the tree with a rock and finish them off with a handmade club. I'd then skin and freeze the pelts and once a month I would get a ride to the traders to sell my furs. I learned several lessons that stay with me to this day. 1. Only the strong survive. 2. Hunting at night alone in the mountains with only a club and a pocket full of rocks can be very unnerving. 3. I never want to eat another raccoon again as long as I live."I'm sorry, but you can't make this shit up.