The Home School Fool

, , , , | Friendly | November 12, 2019

(I am visiting another state to attend a convention that my dad volunteers for every year. My mother and I are out shopping for some snacks. An old lady seems to be following us through the grocery store, until she finally speaks up.)

Old Lady: “Why aren’t you in school?”

Mom: “We’re on vacation.”

(It’s not a lie. I am still being homeschooled at this time, but during the convention I don’t have to do any school work.)

Old Lady: “That’s irresponsible! You shouldn’t go on vacation during the school year. Your daughter isn’t going to pass her classes.”

Me: “It’s fine. I’m homeschooled so I can do my work whenever I want.”

(The old lady is aghast at this point, so I slide closer to my mom. We’ve had so many interactions like this that I know what’s coming.)

Old Lady: “Homeschooled?! How horrible! You’ll never get into college or get a good job! And how will you get a husband with such poor socialization?”

Mom: “Hey! Don’t talk to my daughter that way. Get away from us.”

(The old lady grabs my mom’s arm and yanks her towards her. The cashier sees this happen and picks up the phone while the old lady chews out my mom.)

Old Lady: “You are ruining her life! She’s going to be stupid and too shy to do anything!”

Me: “Let go of my mom!”

Old Lady: “Don’t talk back to your elders!”

(She raises her hand to me, but my mom blocks her and then pulls her own arm away.)

Mom: “If you touch either of us again, I will be pressing charges. Look up, dumba**. You’re on camera, and the cashier already called the cops.”

(The old lady backed off and went back to shopping as if nothing had ever happened. When the police finally arrived, they took everyone’s statements but did little else.)

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Two Minutes Of Agony

, , , | Right | November 12, 2019

(Our customer service deals both with emails and calls, and you are either scheduled on email or call. You are not supposed to do the other when scheduled for one.)

Caller: “I want to know when I will get my money!”

Me: “All right, let’s pull up your file. I don’t see any money ready to be transferred; what is this about?”

Caller: “I was asked to sign a slip and then I would get money because of [case].”

Me: “Ah, I understand. But I don’t see the slip in your file. When did you send it?”

Caller: “I already sent it!”

Me: “But when?”

Caller: “I already sent it; why is it not in my file?!”

Me: “Maybe you can resend it and I can see if the email arrives this time?” *which I am not supposed to do, but hey, service and all*

Caller: “But I already send it two minutes ago!”

Me: “Two minutes ago? You send the first email two minutes ago?”

(And look what just popped up in our mailbox!)

Me: “I got your slip, miss. I will put it through to our financial department for you.”

Caller: “Good. So, when will I get my money?”

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Look At All Those Estony Faces

, , , | Learning | November 12, 2019

(I’m attending a crash course along with twenty other people. The lecturer starts off by asking each of us to tell others a bit about ourselves. The course is in Latvian, the only official language of Latvia, but about a third of attendees are of Russian-speaking minority. This minority is infamous for expecting to be able to converse in Russian everywhere, although these particular people, obviously, must understand Latvian language well enough. Still…)

Lecturer: “I think we’ll allow everyone to introduce themselves in their native language; does everyone agree?”

(People nod and make agreeing noises, but I prick up my ears. When my turn comes, several minutes after the previous non-Latvian speaker…)

Me: “May I speak in my native language, too?”

Everybody: *nodding toward me in a friendly way* “Yes, of course!”

Me: “But… do you all understand Estonian, then?”

Everybody: “Hahaha, no! You will need to translate your introduction for us afterward.”

(So much for equality.)

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Wherever The Taxi Went, We Hope It Was Away

, , , , , | Right | November 12, 2019

(I work in a call center for a taxi company as a dispatcher, which means that in addition to taking customer calls, I handle complaints and deal with drivers directly. We often get calls from hotels for guests, and a small motel has just reopened under new management. The phone rings:)

Me: “Good afternoon, [Taxi Company]. May I start with your phone number?”

Customer: “Hi, I own [Motel] and I’m just calling to let you know I’m giving you all my business.”

Me: “Thank you; that’s very kind.”

Customer: “Remember my phone number; it’s very important. I’m very important and I will be calling you all the time. I’m going to be calling all the time for all my customers, so make sure to remember my number. It’s very important and you’ll get lots of good business.”

Me: “Thank you, sir; have a good day.”

(I can already tell this guy is crazy. That afternoon, he calls and one of my coworkers answers, and the guy screams at him for not already knowing who he was before ordering a cab for a guest. I find out later he called again soon afterward and was as happy as can be despite no difference in the calls, confirming my diagnosis of crazy. The next day, he calls again and wants to speak to a supervisor. The call is transferred to me.)

Me: “Hi, dispatch, how can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi, I’m [Customer], owner of [Motel].”

Me: “How can I help you, sir?”

Customer: “Last night, I ordered a taxi for [Female Customer].”

(I go through the system and find the order, assuming it’s about a lost phone or something.)

Me: “Yes, sir?”

Customer: “Okay, I want to know exactly where she went. I want to know what route they took, who met her there, any stops on the way, and I want that driver’s name and number so I can call him for details.”

Me: “Sir, I’m not allowed to discuss any of that with you.”

Customer: “I ORDERED THE CAB!”

Me: “Yes, sir, but it’s against the Privacy Act for me to discuss any information like that with anybody other than the actual customer.”


Me: “No, sir, I’m not allowed to.”


Me: “It doesn’t matter what race you are, sir; it’s illegal for me to—”

Customer: “NO, IT ISN’T!”

Me: “Yes, it is.”


Me: “Have a good day, sir.”

(He ordered a few more cabs, but then stopped phoning. We never heard from the lady, so I hope she recognized his crazy and fled. I still don’t know what his race had to do with anything, or what he hoped to accomplish by just insisting the law didn’t exist.)

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Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 7

, , , | Right | November 12, 2019

(I work at a cafe where we line up drinks on the bar when they’re ready. I’ve just placed one woman’s drink down and immediately, she starts talking.)

Customer: “This doesn’t look right.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “It’s supposed to be darker.”

Me: “Well, if you take a sip and don’t like it, I can remake it for you.”

Customer: “You don’t have to remake it. It’s just supposed to be darker.”

Me: “All right, ma’am.” 

(I step away to make the next drink. When I place it at the bar, the first customer is still there.)

Customer: “It doesn’t taste right.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Do you want me to remake the drink for you? Free of charge?”

Customer: “No, you don’t have to remake it. It just doesn’t taste right.”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, ma’am.”

Customer: “There’s supposed to be more of a coffee taste.”

Me: “Do you want me to get you a shot of espresso? You could pour that in and it would add more of a coffee flavor.”

Customer: “No, don’t do that.”

Me: “All right, ma’am.”

(I go to work on another drink, and after a few moments, I return to the bar. The first customer is still there.)

Customer: “It’s not right.”

Me: “Are you sure you don’t want me to remake the drink for you?”

Customer: “No, but it’s just not right.”

Me: “Ma’am, what can I do to make this situation better for you?”

Customer: “Well… Could you make me a fresh one?”

Me: *pause* “Yes, ma’am, right away.”

Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 6
Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 5
Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 4

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