(While waiting for a sandwich, the phone in the back room begins to ring.)
Employee #1: “Should I get that?”
Employee #2: “No, there’s no point. It’ll just ring off before we can get to it.”
(The two of them then proceed to wait there for the next 30 seconds until the phone finally stops ringing.)
Employee #2: “See?”
(I am 12 years old, and sick. My dad has to go to work as the manager of a bakery. Before he leaves, he gives me some instructions.)
Dad: “Remember honey, if your fever gets higher than 100, or you throw up, call [store name]. The number is on the fridge.”
(I am fine until about half way through the day, so I check my temperature. Sure enough, I am 101.5. I decide to call my dad at work.)
Me: “Can I speak to the bakery manager, please?”
Employee: “Sorry, he’s on break right now, so I’ll transfer you to our regional manager.”
Me: “No—”
Regional Manager: “What can I do for you?”
(I am starting to see spots and getting dizzy.)
Me: “Get me [name]! The bakery manager!”
Regional Manager: “Well, as my coworker said, he is on break. Can I take a message?”
Me: “Just tell him that his daughter is looking for him.”
Regional Manager: “Look missy; I’ve known [name] for as long as he’s worked here, and he’s never mentioned a daughter. I’ve had it with your shenanigans. This call is terminated.”
(I get a call back 20 minutes later.)
Dad: “Sweetie, they explained that you were looking for me. Are you alright?”
Me: “No! Your coworkers treated me like trash! I’ve got a rising temperature, and feel like I’m gonna puke! Please come home!”
Dad: “Okay sweetie, calm down, get yourself some water. I love you, and will be home as soon as possible.”
(It takes him about 20 minutes to get home. By then, I have a temperature of 102.)
Me: “What took you so long? It usually takes you 10 minutes to get home.”
Dad: “Well, the regional manager gave me this stuff to give to you. He says he’s an idiot for not listening to you. He hopes you get well soon.”
(I get an apology card, bar of chocolate, gift card, and a little stuffed bear. He still apologizes for being an a**-hole.)
(This month, we are taking donations for children with a particular disease, and ask our customers if they’d like to donate at the end of the transaction. I ask the current customer if he would like to make a small donation.)
Customer: “No, thanks. I believe in natural selection.”
(I freeze, and so does everyone standing behind him.)
Me: “Sir, this is for children with [disease].”
Customer: “Yeah, I know. Still, natural selection. If I had [disease], I know I wouldn’t want people donating to save me if I was going to die. The money can be better spent on other things.”
(By this point, half the line is glaring at him, and I’m still stunned.)
Me: “Even if you were a child, sir?”
Customer: “Yup.”
Me: “…here’s your receipt.”
(The customer leaves, and I begin taking care of the next customer.)
Next Customer: “Before you get too far, I’d like to donate $2 to make up for that guy. ‘Natural selection!’ What a monster!”
(After this customer, everyone in line who has seen our exchange made a sizable donation for the cause! Certainly made up for “natural selection” guy!)
This story is part of our Customers Who Dislike Charity roundup!
Read the next Customers Who Dislike Charity roundup story!
Read the Customers Who Dislike Charity roundup!
(I have worked with a customer for about 10 or so minutes to find a pair of jeans. I hear a beeping from what sounds like a cell phone coming from the customer, but he is ignoring it.)
Me: “We have some of these on clearance here—if you need to take that, it’s fine.”
Customer: “Oh naw, that’s just my bracelet.”
(The customer leans down to his ankle to reveal a huge black bracelet for house arrest.)
Customer: “The battery is dying.”
Me: “Oh, okay.”
(We move to the register.)
Me: “We have a [drugstore] close by if you need any sort of battery.”
Customer: “Naw, I gotta go home and charge it. Can I go put these on?”
Me: “Sure, let me take the tags off for you, and we can process it when you come back.”
(He returns after this, and we process the exchange. He thanks me, and his bracelet begins to beep again…)
(We sell burgers in 1/4 lb and 1/2 lb size. It is part of our job to clarify which burger the customer is ordering. I overhear my coworker’s exchange at the next till.)
Customer: “I’d like a burger please.”
Coworker: “Certainly. Would you like the 1/4 lb or 1/2 lb?”
Customer: “I’m not sure; whichever is bigger.”
Coworker: “That would be the 1/2 lb.”
Customer: “Sorry, I’m from the States, and I don’t understand your Canadian measurements!”
This story is part of our Metric System roundup!
