icon_bigotry

Category: Bigotry

This category is dedicated to the bottom rung of humanity at its worst — racists, homophobes, and other bigots — and, occasionally, employees at their finest.

Telltale Sign of A Good Teller

| OH, USA | Bigotry, Money

(I am only 19 when I start working for a large financial institution. After almost two years experience with the bank, at 21, I am still the youngest employee in the branch. I am working in the lobby with another teller who has just transferred into a branch after her position was eliminated in the back office, since she was within a year of retirement age.)

Me: *to customer waiting in line* “Hi. How are you doing today? What can I help you with?”

Customer: “I have a question about this transaction. I think I should probably wait for the other teller.”

Me: “Are you sure? I would be more than happy to help you with your transaction.”

Customer: “I think the other teller would be able to help with this. I don’t think you would know the answer. She’s been here longer so knows more than you do.”

Me: “If you would prefer to wait for [coworker], you are more than welcome to.”

(My coworker is still trying to get used to our DOS based system. I proceed to help the next four customers waiting in line. By the time the customer goes to my coworker’s window, I am just finishing up with the fifth and last customer in the line.)

Customer: “I have a question about a transaction that was on my overdraft protection account. Can you look into what happened?”

Coworker: “[My Name], how do I look that up?”

Me: “Go into [system acronym] and type in the command [more acronyms]. The account summary will be the first screen and the history is on the next.”

(The customer stares silently.)

Me: “I guess I would have been able to help you after all, sir.”

(At least he had the good sense to look a bit sheepish after that.)

Having A Multiple Light-Bulb Moment

| Melbourne, VIC, Australia | Bigotry, Technology, Transportation

(I am the manager at a very busy convenience store that also sells fuel. One particularly quiet afternoon, a customer pulls up and starts to remove every single light bulb from his car. I watch for a little while then go outside to see if I can be of any help.)

Me: “G’day. A problem with your lights?”

Customer: “Yeah, they all stopped working so I need new ones. You sell bulbs don’t you?”

Me: “Yes, we do, but instead of removing them all may I make a suggestion?”

Customer: “You? I doubt it, love. Girls don’t know anything about cars.”

Me: *not the first time I have heard this* “No problem, I’ll be inside when you need the globes.”

(The customer removes every light globe, indicator globe and even all the internal globes, puts them in a bag and comes inside to the counter.)

Customer: “I’ll have one of each of these.”

Me: “No problem.”

(I proceed to get all of the globes he needed, including the not so cheap headlight globes. He pays for them, totaling approximately $45, and then goes back to his car and spends the next hour or so putting them in, with me watching from inside with a huge smile on my face. After he installs them all, he turns on the car, tries the lights, and none of them work. By this stage I have let it go far enough, so I grab a $0.45 blade fuse, go to his car, pop the bonnet, change the fuse, got him to try his lights, and wouldn’t you know it? They all now worked!)

Customer: “…”

Me: “Have a great day!*

(Then I skipped back inside!)

Not Central To Their Understanding

| CO, USA | At The Checkout, Bigotry, Geography

(I am from Central America but have lived in Colorado all my life. People usually ask what part of Mexico I’m from and I just have to give them a smile and let them know I am in fact not from Mexico but a small Central American country. I am helping a customer check out.)

Customer: “Wow you have no accent even though you’re Mexican!”

Me: “I’ve lived in Colorado all my life but I’m actually from a small Central American country.”

Customer: “Oh! Maria, my maid, is from Central America. Do you know Maria!?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, there are many Maria’s from Central America. Where is she from?”

Customer: “Maria! You must know Maria!! My maid! MARIA!”

Me: “Well, I’m from…”

Customer: “Nooo. Maria! Maria. Maria! From Central America! You KNOW her! Mmaarriiiaa!”

(This went on for a few minutes. Obviously we never figured out who she was talking about even though she kept saying the name Maria longer and louder.)