Not In Love With The Shape Of You

, , | Right | January 19, 2019

Customer: *walks up to my register* “You look so yummy!”

Me: *nervous* “Umm, thank you?”

Customer: “Not you! That!”

(She points at a leaflet on the counter about a sale we are offering on baked goods.)

Me: “Oh, thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to call security for a second.”

Customer: “Well, I wasn’t going to say you look yummy, in any case. You’ve got a lazy eye. Only Ed Sheeran looks yummy with a lazy eye!”

I’d Like To Reschedule My Death For Later

, , , , | Right | January 18, 2019

(I’m the goof in this story. Earlier this year, my brother died. He had lived on the other side of the state. The rest of the family made plans to come to town a few weeks later for a memorial service. My kids and I planned to drive over and meet them. Since it is over a three-hour drive away, we plan to stay the night and then go to a park nearby the next day. I make hotel arrangements that actually include park entry. Since they are discounted, they are nonrefundable. My family also texts me with different information to pass on to the funeral home. On the day of the service, I go to pick up my daughter early from school. My other daughter is already with me. Unfortunately, one daughter misjudges a step and falls badly on her knee, causing clear and serious damage. We drive straight to the hospital. While in the waiting room, I make a flurry of phone calls to let people know we’ll miss the service. My last call is to the hotel. I scroll through my phone and press the number with the proper area code, assuming it is the hotel. It is a bit noisy in the waiting room, so I do not hear what is said when they answer.)

Me: “Hello. I have reservations for today, but we’ve had a bit of an emergency. Is there any way I can reschedule for next month?”

Voice On Phone: “What?”

Me: “My daughter has dislocated her kneecap, so won’t be able to walk. Can we reschedule?”

Voice On Phone: “Who are you calling?”

Me: “[Hotel]?”

Voice On Phone: “You’ve reached the funeral home.”

Me: “Oops! Rescheduling with you would be a bad idea.”

(I did laugh, which caused a lot of odd stares in the waiting room. What must the funeral home have thought?! I should post on Not Always Hopeless that once I did call the right number, the hotel was incredibly kind and moved our reservation for us at no additional cost. We got there for my daughter’s birthday, and with her knee brace on, she played all day.)

Can’t Even Blame This One On Pregnancy Brain

, , , , , , | Healthy Legal Right | January 18, 2019

(My coworker is examining pee samples for a patient. They need to pass the drug test to be able to drive a vehicle for work.)

Coworker: “[My Name], come look at this.”

(He hands me the pee sample and the results.)

Me: “Hmm, well, it says here Mr. [Last Name] is pregnant, so unless he’s trans and it’s not on file, I’d say he cheated.”

(I’d doubted anyone would be stupid enough to have a pregnant woman cheat for them but, as it turns out, he was.)

They Are Infinitely Clueless

, , | Right | January 18, 2019

(It’s a running joke in the tattoo parlor where I work that customers don’t want to tell us what tattoo they want. This happens almost daily.)

Me: “Hello! [Shop], [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Hi. Uh, I want to get a tattoo.”

Me: “Wonderful! What kind of tattoo were you thinking of getting?”

Caller: “Just something small.”

Me: “All right. What kind of image were you thinking of?”

Caller: “Just, like, a little symbol.”

Me: “Any symbol in particular?”

Caller: “Like, a little symbol, just on my shoulder.”

Me: “Okay… What kind of symbol would you like?”

Caller: “Like, a little symbol, on my shoulder; how much would that cost?”

Me: “Well, that’ll depend on what kind of symbol you want for your tattoo, and how small you want it to be.”

Caller: “Well, like just a small, little symbol.”

Me: *face buried in hands* “Are we thinking about the size of a business card, the size of a quarter? Do you have a ruler, so you can check?”

Caller: “I want it, just… little. How much would that be?”

Me: “That depends; what kind of symbol do you want us to permanently tattoo on your body?”

Caller: “Do you guys know, like, the little sideways eights? How much for one of them?”

Me: *screaming internally*

Strange Customers In Your Salad Days

, , , , , | Right | January 18, 2019

(I work at a relatively well-known chain restaurant. My friend — who is Hispanic but speaks fluent English — is the hostess for the night. At this job, the hostesses also take the to-go orders, fix the side stuff for the to-go orders, make sure the orders come out correctly, and check the customers out. Basically, they take care of any to-go order transactions from start to finish. The phone rings and my friend answers it, and I can tell she is taking a to go-order. I hear her repeat herself several times until she gives me a befuddled look, and I go up front to try to see if I can help. I then take the phone from her to see if I can have more luck.)

Me: “Yes, sir, this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I was trying to order a salad, but I couldn’t understand that little Mexican girl.”

(I’m a bit confounded, as she hardly has an accent at all, and it’s pretty offensive to refer to her as “little” or “Mexican.”)

Me: *still trying to be polite* “I’m sorry about that, sir. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “I would like your large house salad, with fried chicken added, with [dressing].”

Me: “Okay, one fried chicken salad with dressing. Would you like anything else?”

Customer: “No! That’s not what I said! I want your large house salad, with fried chicken added!”

Me: “Yes, sir, that is a fried chicken salad.”

Customer: “No! I don’t want that. What is so hard to understand?! I want a salad with lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, croutons, and onions, and I want fried chicken added to it.”

Me: “Yes, sir, that’s what the fried chicken salad is.”

Customer: “But I don’t want a fried chicken salad! I want the large house salad with fried chicken added!”

Me: “Okay, sir. So, that’s one large house salad with fried chicken added with [dressing]. Will that be all for you?”

Customer: *being very rude* “Yes! FINALLY. Thank you!”

(I then ring the order into the computer as a fried chicken salad, as that’s what it is. My friend and I are laughing for a minute at the insanity of it when the phone rings again. I am closer so I go to answer it.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I called a large salad in, with fried chicken added, about five minutes ago.”

Me: “Yes, sir, and what can I do for you?”

Customer: “Cancel my order. I’ve just been in a wreck.” *click*

(My coworker and I sat baffled the rest of the night by the fact that immediately after a collision, his biggest concern was to call and cancel his salad.)

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