Physical Scars Causing Mental Ones

, , , , | Right | November 16, 2019

(I work in intimate apparel so I get a lot of requests for certain underwear and whatnot. I’ve also had my fair share of older women doing questionable things.)

Customer: “Ma’am, do you work here?”

Me: *putting away clothes left in the fitting room* “Yep, sure do! How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I’m looking for all-cotton hipster panties. Do you have them here?”

Me: “Of course; it’s in our panty section. Give me a few seconds and I’ll walk you over.”

(I end up just leaving the pile of bras on my counter to help the woman and lead her to where our panties are.)

Me: “Unfortunately, we don’t have any solid colors. Will that be okay?”

Customer: “Colors and patterns don’t matter to me; I just need all-cotton hipsters. I just had a surgery that removed a portion of my bowels and I don’t want anything on my scar.”

Me: “That’s super easy to find, so if you would check this table display rig—”

(Right as I’m speaking, the customer pulls up her shirt and unbuttons her pants. Much to my absolute horror, she starts to tug her pants down to the — luckily empty — floor which exposes the panties she is currently wearing.)

Customer: “See where they cut me open?” *points to the very obvious scar on her stomach* “I need panties to make sure they don’t touch this scar.”

Me: *unsure what to do and what to say* “R-right, ma’am. These panties right here are what you are looking for—” *spots my manager* “O-Oh! I need to go talk to my manager! If I’m not back, the plus-size cashier would be happy to help you—”

Customer: “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I appreciate your help.” *fixes her clothes as if nothing happened* 

(I speed-walked to the department manager who was closing that night and told them I was taking my break right then and there. I didn’t tell them what happened but I’m sure loss prevention had a blast laughing at me and my panic of what the woman did.)

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Angry Croissant Lady: An Origin Story

, , , , | Right | November 16, 2019

(I’m not at my best here; in my defense, I’m still pretty new at my deli job at this point. I’m going about my duties when I see a woman hovering near, but not actually at, the sandwich counter. She’s closer to our grab-and-go station and not actually looking at us so I figure she’s just picking something up and go about my work. I look back at her 30 seconds to a minute later; she’s now staring daggers directly at me with a “why aren’t you helping me” glare. I internally brace myself and go over to see what she wants.)

Me: “Hi. Can I help you?”

Customer: “I want a ham and cheese croissant.”

Me: “Okay! Would you mind filling out a sandwich form out for me so I know what exactly you would like?” *attempting to walk her over to the actual sandwich counter*

Customer: “I want a ham and cheese croissant!”

Me: “Yes. But I need to know what kind of ham, what kind of cheese, and if you’d like any condiments or veggies.”

(Looking affronted at this indignity, the customer reluctantly walks over to the sandwich counter and fills out a form, giving it back to me with the greatest contempt. It turns out she really does want just ham and cheese on a plain croissant, but at least now I know which ham and cheese. I go to the counter to build her sandwich when tragedy strikes. I see no croissants.)

Me: “It doesn’t look like we have any croissants; is there another bread option you would like?”

Customer: *glowers silently at me*

Me: *suddenly hoping there’s a croissant storage I’m unaware of* “You know what? Let me grab a coworker and make sure we don’t have any.”

(I grab a nearby coworker, and she explains to me that we don’t typically keep croissants in the deli because of how quickly they go bad, but we can grab some from the bakery. I’m a little confused about the process of scanning out croissants from the bakery to the deli so it’s taking a little bit for my coworker to explain, but I’m doing my best to keep the lady involved in the conversation, apologizing for the delay and promising that we’ll get this figured out. Unfortunately, it’s a little too much for her, as she swings her cart around and storms off, hollering dramatically as she walks away:)

Customer: “You know what?! Fine! I will buy the ingredients and just make it myself!

Me: *to the space that was previously a customer* “Okay, good luck with that!”

(A couple of weeks later, I was talking to a cashier coworker who regaled me with a tale of this horribly rude and cranky woman who came to her line buying cheese and croissants, ranting about how horrible and expensive it was that she was having to actually make her own sandwich, and how dare the deli not have croissants. I recognized the customer immediately, apologized to the cashier for having to deal with the aftermath, and let her in on the origin story of Angry Croissant Lady.)

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Not Thermodynamically Intuitive

, , , , | Right | November 16, 2019

(I work at a very well-known coffee shop, and on this particular day, I’m working drive-thru. A car pulls up to the window, and I take the payment and chit-chat with the driver for a couple of seconds. He’s a nice, normal-seeming man, up until I hand out his drinks.)

Me: “All right, sir, here is your hot decaf black coffee, and here is your iced green tea latte!”

(He looks at the drinks, then turns back to me with a confused look on his face.)

Customer: “Which one is the hot coffee, and which one is the iced latte?”

Me: “…”

Customer: “…”

Me: “The… green one in the clear cup is the iced latte, sir. Have a nice day.”

(My faith in humanity dies a little more every time I have to tell someone how to tell the difference between a hot drink in a hot cup that feels very hot and an iced drink with visible ice in it in a cold cup that feels cold.)

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When Day Off Becomes Last Day

, , , , | Working | November 16, 2019

(I have not had a day without something work-related happening in weeks. If I’m not at work, my store manager calls at least once a day to ask a question or tell me about something at the store. I’m not even a manager — I barely make $10 an hour as a floor associate — so most of the things she calls about have nothing to do with me. She has called me when the register systems will be updating overnight, she’s called when our inventory doesn’t line up, and she even called to tell me one of the registers was off by $100 and she wondered if I thought a certain coworker would have taken it. Every one of these conversations was above my pay grade, which she knows. I am supposed to have three days off in a row but, as usual, my days are interrupted by my store manager calling. On the second day, I’m in the middle of a call with my mother when my phone beeps to tell me someone is on the other line. I see it’s work and decide I’ll call back after my current call. The beeping stops for a moment before resuming. Again, work is calling. This time, I send the call straight to voicemail. Another minute passes and the store ID shows up AGAIN. I apologize to my mother and switch calls.)

Me: *annoyed* “Hello?”

SM: “[My Name], what are you doing?”

Me: “I was on the phone with my mom. What did you want?”

SM: “Oh, [Customer] will be in shortly.”

Me: “…and?”

SM: “She wants to talk to you.”

Me: “I’m not working today.”

SM: “I know, but I just thought that since she asked for you by name, you could swing by and find out what she needs.”

Me: “You didn’t ask her?”

SM: “No. But she’ll be here in about an hour, so if you could be here I–”

Me: “It’s my day off.”

SM: “Yes, I know, but [Customer] asked for you specifically.”

Me: “And I will be happy to help her when I’m scheduled. I’m not driving half an hour to help one customer and then turn around and go home.”

SM: “But… But she asked for you. I told her you’d be here.”

Me: “She can come in during my next shift.”

SM: *angry* “Your job is to help customers, [My Name].”

Me: “When I’m on the clock. Which I’m not. And I’m not coming in for, what, 20 minutes of work?”

SM: “Yes, that’s all I need! Maybe half an hour.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t justify coming in for that short period of time. “

SM: *gritting her teeth* “[Customer] asked for you by name.”

Me: “Then you should have told her I was unavailable.”

SM: *growls* “Fine.” *Hangs up*

(Frustrated, I call my mother back. I tell her what happened and that, adding in all the other annoying things my manager does, I want to quit. My mother tells me she doesn’t think I should, but if I feel that strongly, it’s my choice. My next shift, the store manager calls me into the office, where she and the assistant manager are waiting. My two-week notice is folded in my back pocket.)

Me: “You called?”

SM: “[My Name], have a seat. We need to discuss your conduct regarding [Customer] the other day.”

Me: “Okay.”

SM: “It is your job to assist customers.”

Me: “Yes.”

SM: “You should have come in.”

Me: “No.”

SM: “I– What?”

Me: “No. I am sorry, but I work to make money. Coming in for the little time you wanted me to help [Customer] would have cost me money.”

SM: “Well, when I told [Customer] you weren’t in, she left. So you cost us money.”

Me: “You told her I would be here, on my day off, before you asked me?”

SM: “Your availability states that you can come in.”

Me: “Not for 20 minutes! That’s ridiculous!”

SM: “[My Name], I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice.” *slides a paper toward me* “Read over this and sign.”

Me: “What is it?”

SM: “It’s a writeup for not coming in.”

Me: *laughing* “On my day off?”

SM: “When you were requested.”

Me: *seriously* “On my day off.”

SM: “Let’s not escalate this.”

Me: “Do you have a pen?”

SM: “Yes!”

(I read over the writeup and see that it says I refused to come in AND refused to assist a customer who asked for me by name. Coincidentally, this writeup leaves out the part where I was supposed to have the day off and that I was requested for less than an hour of work, roughly an hour before I was asked to be there.)

Me: *pull out my notice* “This was my two-week notice. But… I quit. Now.”

(I crossed out the last day of employment, wrote the current date, and added that my store manager tried to write me up for not coming in on my day off. I took a picture of the final product and the writeup before leaving the store. A few days later, the assistant manager called and apologized for the way things went down. I told her it wasn’t her fault at all, and I don’t hold anything against her or the company itself, I just refused to work for the store manager.)

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Sadly, No Market For Irregular Rolls

, , , , , | Right | November 16, 2019

(At our bakery, we have fourteen different kinds of bread rolls. Most customers are polite if this catches them off guard, but this same conversation happens multiple times a week.)

Me: “Good afternoon. What can I do for you today?”

Customer: “I’m looking for rolls.”

Me: “What kind of rolls are you looking for? We have lots of different kinds of rolls.”

Customer: “I don’t know, the rolls! The rolls!”

Me: “Can you describe it to me?”

Customer: “Just the regular rolls! The rolls!”

Me: *coming from behind the counter* “Okay, let’s go down the list. Starting at the top, we have dinner rolls—”

Customer: “I just want regular rolls!” *finally holds up hands in a shape specific enough for me to know what they’re looking for*

Me: “Ah, I believe you want our sub rolls!” *hands them a bag from the shelf*

Customer: “Yes, regular rolls!” *walks off*

(Unfortunately, every one of these customers has a different idea of which roll is the “regular” one.)

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