The best of our most recent stories!
Client: “I got your quote, but it’s too high. A company in [Another Country] quoted me half your price.”
Me: “Then buy it from them. I can’t make it that cheap.”
Client: “Their quality is useless, and I need it before they would even be able to mail it. What am I supposed to do?
Me: “Pay more.”
The small bakery cafe where I work is very close to the local football stadium. People frequently try to park in our lot and walk the ten minutes or so to the stadium instead of paying the $50 for parking. If they mention it, we always warn customers that they can’t park here and they WILL get towed, and there are signs ALL OVER the parking lot warning that it is for customers only and towing is enforced. (We are next door to the local Veterans Affairs office, so we’re technically on government property, and they are INCREDIBLY strict about it.) We don’t even have that big of a lot — only about twenty spaces.
Every time there is a game, a tow truck driver comes in after it starts. He makes his rounds, checking with everyone inside about what cars are theirs, and then tows everything else. Inevitably, we always get a few calls after games from angry people who can’t read about how we DARED to tow their car and how we should refund them the cost of the retrieval fees. (We do not get any compensation for having them towed; the tow company does, and possibly the VA they’re actually contracted to?) I usually just pass these calls to my manager, as she is both scarier than me and allowed to tell the customers how stupid they’re being.
This last weekend, though, it was a Big Game. I have no interest in sports, so I’m not sure what it was exactly, but we were slammed all morning until the game started at 1:00 pm, when we basically slowed to a stop. In anticipation, the tow driver was apparently here a little early, and he told us he was watching everyone park and just walk away from their cars toward the stadium. Our lot was mostly full, and we only had two customers inside, so it was very easy for him to figure out who was actually here, and I’m sure he made a hefty profit that day.
Several hours later, around 5:00 pm, a customer came storming in, angry that his car had been towed. First, he demanded our manager, who had left for the day, so that was a no-go. Then, he demanded her personal number, so he could call her to demand his car back. We refused, as we are explicitly forbidden from giving her number out for ANY reason, and honestly, I was more scared of her than I was of him.
From there, he demanded that WE call the towing company and make them bring his car back. We refused at first, as they are not contracted to us and had no reason to return a validly towed vehicle, before eventually giving in just to prove him wrong. As expected, they also refused.
From there, he got angrier. He decides to call the towing company himself, claiming he was, in fact, towed incorrectly, as he had been a customer. At 8:00 am that morning. Before leaving his car there for almost ten hours to go see the game. Predictably, they refused yet again. He claimed he was going to call his lawyer and sue us. He stormed off, presumably called the lawyer, and presumably was refuted yet again.
After almost forty-five minutes of various calls and demands and such, he stormed back to the front and proceeded to yell at me, at full volume, as I was trying to help some customers check out.
Man: “$400 for f****** parking?! Is this how you treat your f****** veterans? This is bulls***! I should have just parked at the VA!”
He absolutely still would have gotten towed.
Man: “Your signs are lying! They never said I had to be on the property, just that I had to a customer! And I was! I bought something! I will never frequent…”
He lost his momentum for a moment.
Man: “Um, what’s this place called again? Right! I will never come back to [Slightly Incorrect Name Of Our Restaurant], ever again! I will tell all of my friends how s***ty this place is! This is disrespectful to your country!”
It took a lot of my restraint to keep a straight face and not start laughing. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought he was (especially after almost a decade in customer service). Him not even knowing the name of our bakery (which was printed on everything and he could have just READ it on my shirt) was frankly hilarious.
Eventually, he petered out, seemingly disappointed by my utter non-reaction, and stormed out. I apologized to my customers, gave them a small discount for the trouble, and moved on with the shift.
Afterward, my manager called the store as she had seen the confrontation on the cameras, and she started laughing with me as I recounted the tale. She told me I had done everything right, and she hoped the man would call for her the next day so she could lay into him herself.
I’m just glad he decided to scream at me and not my sixteen-year-old coworker on her first job. She was freaked out just hearing it, but it kind of made my night, honestly.
“The Truly Awful Stand Out” reminded me of a story from a few years ago.
My new husband and I were finally getting back to the hotel after a day of celebrating with our friends and family.
One lady, probably from out of town, could not mind her own business seeing two men in tuxedos entering a honeymoon suite. She was in heavy makeup and a dress that made it apparent that her night was just getting started.
Lady: “You [homophobic slur]s?”
Without missing a beat, my husband piped up.
Husband: “We’re flattered, but whatever you’re packing’s gonna have to wait; we’ve got each other all to ourselves tonight. But if you’re performing at [Gay Club with drag shows], we’d love to see your act. Can we hook up there tomorrow night?”
The lady went chalk-white in horror and could not have run faster.
In the checkout line the next morning, the lady had no makeup or ponytail, a massive neckline that showed off her cleavage, and an exaggerated walk-sashay that tried way too hard to be feminine.
Related:
The Truly Awful Stand Out
When I was in high school, I had my first serving job. A mother-daughter pair regularly came in once a week. The mother was in her eighties, and the daughter was in her fifties.
Me: “It’s awesome that you still have regular lunch dates!”
Customers: “Oh, it’s our weekly tradition! We love seeing each other every week!”
They continued to come in all through my high school years, and they would always brighten my day.
One day:
Me: “I’ve been trying to keep a weekly lunch date with my mom, too! You’ve inspired me. I thought I would try to do that to get in some quality time before I went to college.”
Customers: “Oh, are you leaving for college soon?”
Me: “Yes, in a couple of weeks.”
Customers: “But you being such a nice server has become part of our weekly tradition! It just won’t be the same without you!”
On my last day, they passed me an envelope with $300 inside and a lovely handwritten card wishing me luck in school!
I’m an RPh (Registered Pharmacist) in Canada for one of the well-known retail chains. A lady in her fifties or sixties asked for an OTC (over-the-counter) counsel.
Patient: “I’m looking for a cream or something for an allergy rash.”
Usually, I would just direct them to my hydrocortisone/Benadryl/anti-itch cream section and let them choose if they had already self-diagnosed, but we had just opened and it wasn’t too crazy yet, and something about the way she asked made me want to do some more questioning.
After further questioning, she told me:
Me: “Did you have chicken pox as a child?”
Then, she kind of had a mini-freak out because she realized this was most probably not an allergic reaction of any kind, and nothing OTC was gonna make it go away.
Patient: “Oh no. No. You mean— No way. Nooooo! It can’t be! Are you sure?”
Me: “I can’t diagnose as it’s not within my scope of practice, but it might be shingles.”
Patient: “I used a new plumping lip gloss the other day. I touched my lips and then touched the area where the rash is. Maybe that’s why I have it!”
Me: “That’s highly unlikely. Avoid touching the area as much as possible, wash your hands, and see the doctor for treatment if needed.”
Later in the evening, she told my assistant that she wanted to thank me because she had gone to the emergency room where she’d been diagnosed with shingles, and she was happy that I had led her in the right direction.
It’s nice to know that I got it right and that I made a small difference in someone’s life and care yesterday, and the validation from a physician feels good. This renews my “Why did I choose pharmacy?” rationale again before it gets depleted after a couple of hours on shift!
