Maybe Get A Transfer To CERN?

, , , , , | Working | August 19, 2018

(I’m in the stockroom with my coworker, opening boxes. It’s not going as quickly as I hoped it would, with only two of us working most of the day. It’s also been raining all day, and he only has maybe 30 minutes left of his shift, whereas I still have over an hour.)

Me: “Are we done yet?”

Coworker: “No.”

Me: “Ugh, I’m not going to be able to finish these by myself.”

Coworker: “Nah, you can do it.”

Me: “Not unless I get struck by lightning and become The Flash. I’d finish in, like, 30 seconds.”

Coworker: “Well, there are a bunch of metal rods over there. You could go stand outside for a while.”

Me: *makes a face* “I forgot; there was also a particle accelerator explosion. I can’t be Flash.”

(No matter how many times I’ve wished I were The Flash, it just doesn’t seem possible — let alone safe. Sigh.)

Don’t Lose Your Shirt Over It

, , , , | Right | August 19, 2018

(I work in a thrift store. Our policy is that we have a set price on all items within their category. For example: all children’s shirts are $2, all men’s shirt’s are $3.50, all women’s jeans are $4, etc. A man and his son come up my register with several kid’s shirts in a size large, and one shirt that is from a company that sells only adult clothing and is a size small.)

Me: “Your total today is $11.50.”

Customer: “Wait, you overcharged me for of those shirts! They’re supposed to be $2 each.”

Me: “Yes, sir, all of our children’s shirts are $2, but this one—” *removing shirt from the bag to show him* “—is an adult’s shirt, and costs $3.50.”

Customer: *starting to raise his voice* “That is not an adult shirt! Look at it! It is the exact same size as all the kid’s shirts there. My son tried it on, and it fit him, and he doesn’t wear adult sizes!”

Me: “Well, sir—” *checking labels* “—your other shirts are a size large and this is a size small, which is why they are pretty close in size. I can show you what a children’s size small looks like, for reference. Plus, the label here says [Store] and they only make adult’s clothing. I apologize for the confusion, but this does fall under our $3.50 pricing.”

Customer: “You are not going to scam me! There is no way that shirt is for an adult. I wear a size small. Do you think that shirt would fit me?!”

Me: “I’m not sure, but sizes do vary from company to company, and [Store]’s clothing does run on the smaller side.”

Customer: “It fits my kid, so it’s a kid’s size! You will not f****** lie to me and tell me that this is supposed to be for people my size!”

(The customer takes off the shirt he is wearing, gestures to his own torso, and then angrily throws his shirt at me. My manager sees this and rushes over.)

Manager: *to me* “What’s going on?”

Customer: “Your cashier is trying to scam me and sell me kid’s clothes for jacked-up prices!” *picks up the shirt in question* “Does this look like it would fit me?!”

Manager: “Sir, I cannot comment on what size clothing you wear, but that shirt is from a company that does not manufacture kid’s clothing. Also, we have a strict no shirt, no shoes, no service policy, and since you are no longer wearing a shirt, I will have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! You’re all f****** idiots!”

(He stormed out shirtless, mumbling to himself. His son was clearly embarrassed.)

Doesn’tHaveSpaceToBackup

, , , , , | Related | August 19, 2018

My mother was always open to computers, but by chance, one dies when she’s touching it — it’s still DOS-era — losing all files with no back-up. She is absolutely convinced she caused it and hasn’t touched a computer since. Eventually, we manage to convince her to get a cellphone — pre-Internet — but she will only use it for calling, not texting.

It’s finally time to upgrade to a new phone, one that can do Internet, but nope, she still won’t use it for anything more than just calling. She reads text messages, but never responds… until she goes on a trip to France, and realises that texting is a lot cheaper than calling.

This is the very first text-message she sends me:

“alliswellweatherisnicehavingagreattimebutcantfindthespacebar oh i found it”

(All is well, weather is nice. Having a great time but can’t find the spacebar…)

She hasn’t stopped texting, apping, and googling ever since. She also owns a laptop for photo-editing, but makes triple back-ups of all her work now. And I made sure I saved her very first text message.

Time To Prescribe Some Patience

, , , | Friendly | August 19, 2018

(I have just left the doctor’s office and walked to the pharmacy to wait for a prescription to be sent over. The young girl at the register is on the phone, so I wait for her to acknowledge me.)

Cashier: “I’ll be right with you.”

Me: “Okay, thank you.”

(A few minutes pass.)

Cashier: “Okay, picking up?”

Me: “Yes, it was just sent over from [Doctor]. Last name, [Last name]. Born [birthday].”

Cashier: “Hmm, doesn’t look like it’s here yet. You can have a seat and wait, if you’d like.”

Me: “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

(I take a seat and begin scrolling through Facebook while I wait. The phone rings again. A woman comes in and goes right to the register.)

Cashier: “I’ll be right with you, ma’am.”

Woman: “I just left [Doctor], and she sent a medicine order over for me.”

Cashier: *nods, covers phone receiver* “Just a moment.”

Woman: “It’s under [Woman].”

Cashier: *nods, holds up one finger* “As soon as I’m done on the phone, ma’am.”

Woman: “It should be ready.”

Cashier: *nods*

Woman: “Ugh.” *turns to me* “Can you believe this service?”

Me: “I can.”

Woman: “What?”

Me: “Well, she’s clearly busy, and you were told many times that she would be with you after her phone call.”

Woman: “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Me: “You asked.”

Woman: “The youth of today are so disrespectful! If you were my daughter, I’d have you over my knee for talking to me like that!”

Me: “Guess I’m lucky you’re irrelevant.”

Woman: “How dare you?!”

(I return to my Facebook browsing. The woman sits directly beside me, continuing her rant about disrespectful youth and poor customer service. The cashier hangs up and takes the woman’s information. Of course, it isn’t ready. She resumes her rant, pacing in front of the register.)

Cashier: “[My Name], your order is ready.”

Woman: “Where is mine?”

Cashier: “I’ll let you know as soon as yours is ready.”

Woman: “I’ve half a mind to take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “Don’t use it all in one place.”

Cashier: *trying to keep a straight face* “No copay, [My Name]. Have a good day.”

Some Complaints Are Ripe For The Picking

, , , , | Right | August 19, 2018

(I am working at the checkout counter, and we have a special on avocados from South America: two for the price of one. There are about four people in the queue; one of them is a regular. I see that he is holding two avocados and muttering to himself. As it is his turn, he hands me the avocados.)

Me: “Hi, would that be all for you?”

Customer #1: “No.”

Me: “No?”

Customer #1: “No, they are not ripe. You picked them too early!”

(And he hands me the avocados and walks away, having queued about ten minutes just to hand them back.)

Me: “…?”

(The next lady in line approaches.)

Customer #2: *laughing* “Yeah, you picked them too early.”

Me: “I guess I can have a sleep in tomorrow, then.”


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