This section is a tribute to all of you who have to put up with stupid questions on a regular basis - especially those of you in the tech industry who have to put up with questions like "How do I turn my computer on" all day long.

If you have a stupid question that you're itching to share with the rest of us, we encourage you to register an account on the forums and post a reply in this thread, or if you prefer, send us an email at telling us about your stupid question encounter.

We're going to take things slow this week and start off with only a few stupid questions submitted by our forum members. Hopefully their pain and suffering will make your job just a little bit more bearable today.

Our first specimen comes from Vespertine who encountered probably the dumbest salesgirl on the face of this planet. She's probably the byproduct of the No Child Left Behind Act and will soon be entering college on a full ride scholarship from an essay she wrote outlining the advantages and disadvantages of individually wrapped cheese slices.

When Christmas shopping last year, I was looking for a specific coat for my mom. I went to the store that sells it. They had the right color, but not in mom's size. The manager looks up the inventory at other stores. She calls one of these other stores and tells the girl that answers that she's going to walk her through a phone sale and "ship receipt". The manager does her thing with the other salesgirl and hands the phone to me so that I can give her my card number and address. After we get the card number done, the conversation goes like this:

Salesgirl: Okay, what's your address?

Me (saying all the words): One, two, three, four south forty-third drive.

Salesgirl: Ummmm....should I spell out 'south'?

Me: dead silence

Me (in my head): Depends on whether you're capable of spelling 'south'.

Me (out loud): Yeah, that doesn't really make a difference. Are you ready for the rest of the address?

Salesgirl: Yes.

Me: Laveen (it's a suburb of Phoenix) (the salesgirl is at another store IN PHOENIX)

Salesgirl (interrupting me before I can give her the zip code): Ummm...is that the country?

I was hella surprised when that jacket actually showed up at my house a couple days later. I didn't know it was possible for someone to be that dumb.

12AX7 shares the same phone frustrations as Vespertine:

I used to get this or a similar one every week or so:

caller: "Can I speak to Coach Joe*?" (* not his real name; I actually dont remember it. I remember 'coach' because of another call I'll tell you about in a minute.)

me: "Sorry, but you have the wrong number."

caller: " . . .this isn't Carolina High School?"

me: "Nope."

caller: "Is this 269-2907?" <-which was my home phone number (actual number shown) for over 10 years.

me: "Yes, it is."

caller: "And this isn't Carolina High School?"

me: " N O. "

caller: " . . . are you sure?"

me: " Uh. . . I don't know. Let me go fucking check."

*click*

After several calls from different people asking for Coach, I told them he no longer worked here and had been incarcerated for something with one of the kids. I honestly got no more calls for Carolina High School or Coach Whateverhisnamewas.

There seems to be a recurring theme here with stupid questions and the telephone. BizB has the same problem with people calling him thinking they dialed someone else:

My home number is one digit away from the main telephone number for the Toledo Zoo. If my phone rings before 10 am on a Saturday or Sunday, I answer it, "The Zoo."

It's fast enough that people who weren't expecting to hear a greeting like that won't catch it and they'll just go on with whatever they called about, like asking for BBCK or trying to sell me a water softener.

It's also just enough to suck in the people who can't read the difference between ###-9### and ###-5###. The question is invariably "What time do you open?" The answer is invariably, "We have a situation with an escaped animal this morning. We may not open at all."

Similarly, my home phone number when I was growing up was one digit away from a local dinner theater. We used to take reservations and tell people about the current theater performance and the menu items.

And here's another one from TheJudge. Perhaps this is a little crueler, but it makes for a good laugh:

Little kid on the phone

*ring* M: Hello?
K: Can I talk to grandma?

M: Sorry, you have the wrong number.
K: Oh OK. *Click*

30 secs later

*ring* M: Hello?
K: Can I talk to grandma?

M: Sorry, you have the wrong number.
K: Oh OK. *Click*

30 secs later

*ring* M: Hello?
K: Can I talk to grandma?

M: Sorry, you have the wrong number.
K: Oh OK. *Click*

30 secs later

*ring* M: Hello?
K: Can I talk to grandma?
M: Grandma's dead.
K: *pause*... Huh?
M: Yeah sorry, Grandma died last night. Go tell your mom that Grandma's dead OK?
K: OK... *Click*

Vespertine has another intriguing, yet stupid question that she heard while on a conference call:

I swear I'm not making this up. Less than a minute ago, someone a couple aisles over from me asked (on a conference call), "And, where do Europeans come from?"

Lasty, Wunderkind shares an encounter she had with someone who did not realize that they were in a hotel, even though the building had "BIGASS HOTEL" written on it. Go figure.

Guy drives up a half-mile driveway to a building twelve stories high in the middle of golf courses with the words "Bigass Resort" on the side, the stantions, and the doors. Parks his car under the portico walks through the double doors, both sets of which read "Bigass Resort and Conference Center". He is greeted by the bellman who asks if he can valet his car, unload any luggage, ect., man responds by asking where the front desk is and is directed appropriately. Walks up to the desk, above which it is posted "Front Desk".

Guy: Is this a hotel?

I strongly resisted the urge to respond: "No, this is an elaborate set up by a privately operated espionage team. You've been selected from a highly elite list of canidates to undergo training. If you wish to continue please check-in, if not, please go around to the elevators, we would like to shoot... *ahem* excuse me - see - you downstairs."

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