Especially when the thing that's in the mail was the Perfect Christmas Gift that they were relying on to make a Norman Rockwell picture happen in their own lives.
Customer, with bitter sarcasm: "So you're telling me it won't be here by Christmas."
CusSvc next to me: "We expect it'll be there by the 23rd, 24th at the latest."
Customer, with more shrill voice: "Which means it won't be there by Christmas."
CusSvc, patiently: "No, it means it will be there by the 23rd or 24th."
Customer, with triumphant snarl: "And that means it won't be there by Christmas."
Some people have yet to learn that Christmas falls on the 25th, apparently.
Oh well. It's better than the one yesterday who told her, when she explained that his items had been sent by parcel post because he didn't have a street address, just a PO Box, and he decided amid increasing vulgarity and ranting, that it was somehow her fault that the expected delivery might not make it for his early Christmas party on Sunday, that he didn't tell our sales associate about:
"Now I know how Bin Laden feels..."
She hung up on him at that point. I would have asked him if he really intended to threaten me, and if not, he'd best apologize quickly because we have his name, address, and phone number which can and will be provided to the FBI.
Fortunately none of my customers have been that nutty, though one woman did wryly tell me that we'd wrecked her Christmas by not having a particular vendor-provided item on time, though we'd been assured it would be.
Some other time I'll tell you about the Delicious Polenta Casserole, a parable about why fried corn-meal-mush, sun-dried tomatoes and preserved basil, and the world's stinkiest parmesan and mozzarella should NOT be shipped across the country frozen.
Or at least, they should use a less watery, stinky cheese.