strange emails today


Major Contributor
I received 2 emails today and one wanted a quote to remove all the signs from his building somewhere in Arizona!!! I am in Canada, so I quoted him $50,000. seems like a deal for me.

Then right after that email I get another from some guy who thinks I am Doug and that I have to email him right away.... this guy is in Columbus , Ohio.....

something is not right today


Major Contributor
I get emails all the time about needing work done in alaska...
I have no idea how it's happening.

the funniest part - it's coming through our website through the request a quote page.


Roper of Goats. Old ones.
I've seen some emails like this.

You've got to wonder what the scam is. Either that or there's a few people out there who are terribly geographically challenged.


Active Member
Similar business names + idiots who don't bother documenting their email addresses = many a day spent trying to convince people you are not who they think you are.

My wife spent the better part of a year trying to convince this one woman from 1,000 miles away that she was not, in fact, her sister-in-law.


Roper of Goats. Old ones.
Speaking of geographically challenged, there's a few gems in this one:

(Not to hijack this thread too much)

By Jonathan Lee

After 130,000 conversations--all ending with "Have a nice day
and thanks for calling" -- I think it's fair to say I'm a survivor.
I've made it through all the calls from adults who didn't know
the difference between a.m. and p.m., from mothers of military
recruits who didn't trust their little soldiers to get it
right, from the woman who called to get advice on how to handle
the man who wanted to ride inside the kennel with his dog so he
wouldn't have to pay for a seat, from the woman who wanted to
know why she had to change clothes on our flight between
Chicago and Washington (she was told she'd have to make a change
between the two cities) and from the man who asked if I'd like to
discuss the existential humanism that emanates from the soul of

In five years, I've received more than a boot camp
education regarding the astonishing lack of awareness of our
American citizenry. This lack of awareness encompasses every
region of the country, economic status, ethnic background and
level of education. My battles have included everything from a
man not knowing how to spell the name of the city he was from to
another not recognizing the name "Iowa" as being a state, to
another who thought he had to apply for a foreign passport to
fly to West Virginia. They are the enemy, and they are

In the history of the world, there has never
been as much communication and new things to learn as today.
Yet, after asking a woman from New York what city she wanted to go
to in Arizona, she asked, "Oh... is it a big place?" I talked to
a woman in Denver who had never heard of Cincinnati, a man in
Minneapolis who didn't know there was more than one city in
the South ("wherever the South is"), a woman in Nashville who
asked, "Instead of paying for your ticket, can I just donate
that money to the National Cancer Society?" and a man in Dallas
who tried to pay for his ticket by sticking quarters in the pay
phone he was calling from.

I knew a full invasion was on the way
when, shortly after signing on, a man asked me if we flew to Exit
35 on the New Jersey Turnpike. Then a woman asked if we flew to
area code 304. And I knew I had been shipped off to the front
when I was asked, "When an airplane comes in, does that mean
it's arriving or departing?"

I remembered the strict training I
had just received -- four weeks of regimented classes on airline
codes, computer technology and telephone behavior -- and it
allowed for no means of retaliation. "Troops," we were told,
"it's a real hell out there and ya got no defense. You're
gonna hear things so silly you can't even make 'em up. You'll
try to explain stuff to your friends that you don't even
believe yourself, and just when you think you've heard it all,
someone will ask if then can get a free roundtrip ticket to
Europe by reciting 'Mary Had a Little Lamb.'"

Well, Sarge was
right. It wasn't long before I suffered a direct hit from a woman
who wanted to fly to Hippopotamus, N.Y. After assuring her that
there was no such place, she became irate and said it was a big
city with a big airport. I asked if Hippopotamus was near Albany
or Syracuse. It wasn't. Then I asked if it was near Buffalo.
"Buffalo," she said, "I knew it was a big animal!" Then I crawled
out of my bunker long enough to be confronted by a man who tried
to catch our flight to Maconga. I told him I'd never heard of
Maconga and we certainly didn't fly to it. But he insisted we did
and to prove it showed me his ticket: Macon, GA.

Now I've done
nothing during my conversational confrontations to indicate
that I couldn't understand English. But after quoting the
ROUNDTRIP fare the passenger JUST ASKED FOR he'll always ask:
"...Is that ROUNDTRIP?" But I've survived to direct the lost,
correct the wrong, comfort the weary, teach U.S. geography
and give tutoring in the spelling and pronunciation of
American cities. I have been told things like, "I can't go
stand-by for your flight because I'm in a wheelchair." I've been
asked such questions as: "I have a connecting flight to
Knoxville. Does that mean the plane sticks to something?" And
once a man wanted to go to Illinois. When I asked what city
he wanted go to in Illinois, he said, "Cleveland, Ohio."

After 130,000 little wars of varying degrees, I'm a wise old veteran of
the communication conflict and can anticipate with accuracy what
the next move "by them" will be. Seventy-five percent won't have
anything to write with or on. Half will have not thought
about when they're returning. A third won't know where they're
going. A few won't care if they get back. And James will be the
first name of half the men who call. But even if James doesn't
care if he gets to the city he never heard of; even if he can't
spell, pronounce or remember what city he's returning to, he'll
get there because I've worked very hard to make sure that he
can. Then with a click in the phone, he'll become a part of my
past and I'll be hoping that the next caller at least knows what
day it is. Oh, and James... "Thanks for calling and have a nice

)From Travel Weekly September 16, 1985

Jonathan Lee is a Nashville, Tenn.-based reservations agent and
writer of television commercial jingles. This article
originally appeared in the Washington Post.


Very Active Member
THAT about says it.

99% knuckle dragging idiots, 1% genius.
I pretend I fit in the 1%.

I hope the cockroaches make a better job of it after we have crazied outselves out of existance.