Me, Myself, And I Are Confused

, , , | Right | April 5, 2020

(A young woman with a baby in a stroller walks in and picks up a [Designer] product. It is a notepad that has the title, “Me, myself, & moi.”)

Customer: “Hey, what is M.O.I?”

Me: “Oh, on that notepad? It’s not ‘M-O-I,’ it’s ‘Moi’.”

Customer: *blank stare* “Well, what the heck is ‘moi’?”

Me: “Oh, you know… moi? The French word for ‘me.’ That notepad says, ‘Me, myself, & moi.'”

Customer: “So, it’s saying, ‘Me, myself, & me?'”

Me: “Yes. It’s a pretty common phrase, actually.”

In Retrospect, We Don’t Discount Retrospectively

, , , , | Right | April 5, 2020

(A customer comes in and approaches my coworker’s register.)

Customer: “I have this coupon.”

Coworker: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, but that coupon’s expired and no longer in our system. I can offer you this other coupon, instead.”

Customer: “Fine, whatever. Oh, and my son came in and dropped off clothes the other day. He already picked them up but forgot to bring the coupon, can I use it for them now?”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we are only able to accept coupons at drop-off, so I can only use it for your items today.”

Customer: “So, you don’t honor your coupons?!”

Coworker: “No, ma’am, as I explained, we do honor our coupons but we can only accept them at drop-off, as that’s when you pay. We can’t accept them at pickup or after you’ve already left the store with your clothes.”

Customer: “Whatever.”

(The customer paid for her current order and then stormed out in a huff. Two minutes later, she called the store to speak to a manager and once again argued that we should take her coupon for the order from two days ago that had already been picked up, and then hung up when my manager gave her the same answer my coworker did.)

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Xeroing In On The Problem

, , , , | Right | April 5, 2020

(I’m behind the circulation desk at the library.)

Patron: “Hey, can you show me how to use the copier?”

(There is a copy machine, though minding it isn’t supposed to be my job. I walk him through the steps.)

Me: “Okay, you either put your original in this tray, or you can lift the lid and put it directly on the glass. Then, put in ten cents and—”

Patron: “Woah! Woah! I want a COPY! Not a Xeroc!”

(Yes, he does say it like “Xeroc.”)

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patron: “I knew I should have gone to [Shipping Company]!”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir—”

Patron: “If you put it through the tray it’s a copy, but if you lift the lid and put it on the glass it’s a Xerox! The judge won’t take a Xeroc!”

Me: “Sir, I assure you they’re the same thing.”

Patron: “I’ve spent a lot of money on this divorce! I’m not getting it thrown out because I showed up with a Xeroc!”

Me: “I assure you that Xerox is just another name for a copy, and you don’t have to use the lid if you don’t want to.”

Patron: “He said to bring a copy! Not a Xeroc!”

Me: “Okay, but here, look.”

(I make a copy with each method, and show them both to him.)

Me: “They’re exactly the same.”

Patron: “I knew I should have used [Shipping Company]! You don’t know anything!”

(He grabbed his copies and stormed out.)

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Karma Instantáneo

, , , , , , | Working | April 5, 2020

(I’m on a four-day high school trip. After we stop for lunch on the way home, I go with a friend to a nearby gas station/corner store so she can buy some candy for the remaining fourteen hours of the bus ride. While she gets her candy, I start looking for a cheap souvenir, since everything in the hotel gift shop was either ridiculously expensive or simply impractical to travel with. I’m still looking when my friend pays for her candy, so she stands outside the store while I try to pick something out. Finally, I pick something and bring it to the counter. The cashier, a friendly young black man, has been cheery with my friend and absolutely nothing at all notable has happened so far. Neither I nor my friend look even remotely Latino or Hispanic, so I’m a little surprised when he starts speaking to me in Spanish, just as happily as before.)

Cashier: “¡Hola! ¿Como estás?”

(I’m surprised, but I smile and speak with next to no trace of my American accent.)

Me: “Cansado. ¿Y tu?”

(The cashier is clearly thrown off.)

Cashier: “Oh, s***.”

(His coworker, who heard everything in the back room, started laughing so hard that I thought he was going to fall off the small ladder I could see him standing on. I quickly told the cashier that I spoke English and was taking Spanish as a second language. He said that he sometimes did the Spanish to have some fun with customers, and he definitely didn’t expect me to try to start a conversation. The back room employee kept laughing about how “you showed him!” while the cashier rang up my souvenir. He was still laughing when I said, “¡Gracias, adios!” on my way out. I sometimes wonder if the back room guy ever let the cashier live down that little Spanish encounter or if it became some sort of cautionary tale about not trying to confuse customers.)

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In A Nation Founded By Convicts…

, , , , , , | Right | April 5, 2020

I’m working stock at a popular discount variety store chain, when a father, a mother and their two sons walk in and start looking at toys. I overhear part of their conversation:

Father: “Only pick one each, we actually have to pay for these. It’s not like back home in South Africa where you could just walk out of the shop.”

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