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Four-Score One To Me

| Related | May 11, 2015

(We are visiting the Lincoln statue, and my mom asks me to take a picture of her and my younger sister. As a joke, I take a picture of Lincoln.)

Mom: “Show me the picture!”

Me: *shows Lincoln* “Here it is!”

Mom: “Where’s the picture of our family?”

Me: “You’re looking at him! Our most honest father.”

Mom: *scrolls through the phone, looking angrier by the second* “YOU RUINED THE FAMILY VACATION! I HOPE YOU END UP ON THE STREETS HOMELESS WITH NO ONE TO FIND YOU!”

Don’t Commit The Crime If You Can’t Do The Overtime

| Working | May 11, 2015

(We’re in training at a call center for a large, national corporation, working directly for the company rather than through an outsourcer. Of 18 people in the training class, 7 of us came from another local call center, this one run by an outsourcer known for their less than quite legal practices, but being in a ‘Right to Work’ state, the employees don’t speak up about it out of fear of losing our jobs.)

Supervisor: *addressing the class to go over some information on our new schedules once we get out of the training class* “So, any questions?”

Coworker #1: “Will we be able to get all of our hours every week here?”

Supervisor: *clearly confused* “Well, we hope that you’ll come in and stay for your regular shifts. If not, then we’re going to have a problem.”

Coworker #2: “No, what he means is, at the place we worked before, they had this thing called voluntary time off, but it wasn’t voluntary.”

Me: *seeing that the supervisor still seems confused* “What they would do if it was slow, they’d log us out and not let us back in. They called it VTO but—”

Trainer: *misunderstanding* “Oh, no, if you accidentally log out during your shift here, they’ll come find you and—”

Coworker #1: “Oh, no, we didn’t log out accidentally; they’d log us out and send us home because they didn’t want to pay us.”

Supervisor: *now looking a bit shocked* “No, we won’t send you home early unless you volunteer.”

Coworker #1: “Do you guys cut our lunches when it gets busy? Or move our shifts around all day?”

Supervisor: “No, your lunches don’t get cut back. If you’re scheduled for a 45 minute lunch, you get the whole 45 minutes. That’s the law. We have to do that.”

Coworker #3: “What about overtime? How much can we work in a week?”

Supervisor: “Oh, you can work up to four hours a day, but your stats have to be up to par. It’s a privilege, not a right.”

(I can see him cringe, as hands go up from the group of us from the other call center.)

Coworker #4: “Only four hours a day? What if we’re used to working more?”

(At this point, all of us are staring at Coworker #5, who was known for working open to close seven days a week at our previous call center.)

Supervisor: *leaning towards our particular group, and emphasizing* “You can’t work more than four hours of overtime in a day. Only 12 hours in a shift, because THAT’S THE LAW. And you get three breaks on a ten hour shift, because THAT’S THE LAW, TOO. I don’t know what kind of sweat shop you people came from, but we like to do things right around here.”

(At this point the group of us from the other call center are staring at each other in shock.)

Coworker #1: *in amazement* “You mean… [National Company] actually takes care of their people?”


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Bus Stop Flop

| Working | May 11, 2015

(I’m a tourist in Stockholm, and have purchased a blue chipcard that lets me ride the subway for three days. After the third day, I need to get to my ferry, so I decide to buy one more single ticket. I’m in the little underground shop that sells single tickets.)

Me: “Hello, can I have a single ticket, please?”

Cashier: “Sure.” *rings me up*

Me: “You need my blue card?”

Cashier: “No.”

Me: “Are you sure? The ticket needs to be on the card, right?”

Cashier: “No. Here’s your receipt.”

Me: “But how do I go through…?”

Cashier: “Just go. The clerk will open the gate for you.”

Me: “But I…” *sigh*

(I go up to the clerk at the gates, and show him my receipt.)

Me: “Can you put my ticket on my card?”

Clerk: “Here you go.” *opens gate*

Me: “That’s not what I needed…”

Clerk: “GO!”

(Confused, I proceed through the gate, no longer able to speak to him. I go on the subway and at my final stop, I get out. I approach the clerk at the subway gates.)

Me: “Hi! I have my card, and this ticket. Can you transfer the ticket to my card?”

Clerk: “Uh, no. Your receipt is your ticket.”

Me: “I need to go on a bus from here. Can you please transfer it?”

Clerk: “No. You can use the ticket on the bus.”

Me: “All right. Where are the buses?”

Clerk: “Go down to the subway platform and at the end are the bus stops.”

(I followed his directions and found another exit at the far end of the platform. There was a stairway going down to a bus stop, but my number wasn’t listed, so I assumed it was somewhere else. I hesitated to go out because at that exit, there was no clerk on duty at the gate. Eventually, I went out, but there was no other bus stop. I ended up walking the last mile in the rain, along the roadside, with a heavy backpack on my back.)

Trash-Talking Ponies

, | Working | May 11, 2015

Manager: “[My Name], can you help that customer?”

Assistant Manager: “[My Name], can you get those wings? Remember, make three kinds from two bags.”

Me: “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

(The oven begins to buzz.)

Assistant Manager: “[My Name], can you put price tags on these cups of chicken

salad?”

Me: “Hang on; I’m trying to do four things at once here.”

Manager: “[My Name], can you take out the trash?”

Me: “Make that five things.”

Assistant Manager: “Heh heh.”

Me: “Anything else?”

Assistant Manager: “Yeah, I want a pony. No, wait, make that a unicorn!”

Me: “Well, [Local University]’s mascot is the Pegasus. I don’t know about unicorns, but maybe they have one of those there.”

Assistant Manager: “I don’t want a Pegasus; I want a unicorn! No, wait. I want Rainbow Brite’s horse! Ugh… that was one of my favorite cartoons and now I can’t remember its name!”

Me: “Well, s***, don’t ask me what it is.”

Manager: “…Starlite?”

(Our manager is a 39-year-old man.)

Me: “Ooookay, that’s it. I’m outta here. I’m outta here before I inhale some pixie dust or something.”

(I grabbed the trash cart and headed out of the department as both managers began cracking up.)

Telemarketers: The Fear Is Real

| Working | May 11, 2015

(One day at work, I get a call from a number I don’t recognize. Here is the following conversation.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Hello! My name… is Megan. Are… you… aware that… many people ha…ve been falsely charged… for operations? If yo…ou are between… the… ages of twenty… five and sevent…y, you could… be eligible… for a payback. Are you… between the ages of… twenty-five… and seventy?”

Me: “Sorry, Megan, not only have I never had an operation, but I don’t talk with robot callers.”

Caller: *actually managing to sound indignant* “I… can a…ssure you… I am a real…”

(The call suddenly cut off. Either that was the key to end the call or the scammer got scared.)