Strawberry Shakes, Forever

, , , , , | | Right | May 21, 2019

(I work at a restaurant commonly known for its ice cream treats. A table of teenage boys sits down.)

Me: “Hi, guys! I’m your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?”

Teenager #1: “Can I get a vanilla shake?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

Teenager #2: “Can I get one, too?”

Me: “Sure thing!”

Teenager #3: “I want to do a strawberry.”

Me: “Not a problem! I’ll be right—”

Teenager #2: “Oh! That sounds good. Can you do strawberry and vanilla all mixed?!”

Me: “So… a strawberry shake, then?”

Those Door Unfortunate Souls

, , | | Right | May 21, 2019

(Our department store is connected to a mall on one side; the other three sides have doors to the parking lot. The mall requires us to lock our mall doors, which are heavy sliding panels, right when the mall closes at nine, and we are not supposed to let people through after hours. This is hardly an inconvenience; late customers can be let out of any of our outside doors, and the mall’s own entrances are kept unlocked for another half-hour, so it’s easy to reach whichever parking lot you need, and the mall is small enough you can walk around the outside of it in ten minutes. Despite all this, people still tend to lose their d*** minds over these doors. I’m counting my register a few minutes after closing when a woman starts knocking on the glass of the mall door.)

Me: *to a coworker* “Um, someone’s over there.”

Coworker #1: “Just ignore her. We’re closed, and we’re not reopening those doors, whatever it is.”

(I keep counting, and the woman keeps knocking.)

Me: *to another coworker* “That woman’s trying to get our attention. Could you see what she wants?”

Coworker #2: “I need to deposit my cash.”

(The woman has been knocking for several minutes now. I finally finish closing my drawer, lock up the cash, and go to check on her. I’m worried she forgot something important inside the store, like her cell phone or car keys.)

Me: *through the glass* “Hello?”

Woman: “Can I get through to my car?”

Me: “No.”

(There was a mall entrance fifty feet away from her. She could have been on her way home in the time it took her to ask me that question.)

Obama Drama, Part 7

, , , , | | Right | May 21, 2019

(It is during the Obama presidency. The pharmacy phone rings.)

Caller: “I want to check and see if my prescription is ready.”

Me: “Sure. Could I get your information?”

(I look up the patient and see that his insurance wants additional paperwork from the doctor before they will pay for the medication. This is a VERY common problem, especially for expensive or name-brand medication.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but it looks like your prescription isn’t ready because we are still waiting for the doctor to file some additional paperwork with the insurance company.”

Caller: “What do you mean? I was told that my prescription would be ready by five! Why isn’t it ready?”

Me: “Sir, this medication is name-brand and very expensive. Your insurance company doesn’t want to pay for it unless your doctor provides additional paperwork stating that it is medically necessary.”

Caller: “Well, of course it’s medically necessary! My doctor wrote it for me, so I need it! This is ridiculous. I need my medicine!”

Me: “I apologize for that, sir. If you’d like to pay the cash price of [several hundred dollars], I can have your prescription ready in about ten minutes. But unfortunately, if you want your insurance to cover it, you may want to try calling your doctor and making sure he’s filled out the paperwork we faxed to him.”

Caller: “This has nothing to do with my insurance company! You know what this is? This is that ‘Obama-Care’ and his death panels! He’s just trying to kill off all of us old people! I don’t know how he even got in office; he’s a Kenyan!”

(The caller continues spouting out conspiracy theories for another five minutes.)

Caller: “Well, I think I’ve wasted enough of your time. Goodnight.” *click*

Me: “…”

Related:
Obama Drama, Part 6
Obama Drama, Part 5
Obama Drama, Part 4

I Got 25,000 Problems And You’re All Of Them

, , , | | Right | May 21, 2019

(I work at a busy fast food restaurant which uses the receipt number to hand out the food. The numbers are long, so we only call out the last two digits. This happens quite often.)

Me: “Number 42!”

(Nobody comes forward.)

Me: “Number 42!”

Customer: “Is this my order? My receipt says 39042.”

Me: “Yes, it’s yours; we only call the last two digits.”

(One busy day a customer is rude and impatient while I take his order. After cashing him out I go to hand out the food. When his order is ready I call it.)

Me: “Number 74!”

(I can see the rude customer standing nearby; he does not come to the counter.)

Me: “Number 74!”

(The rude customer still does not react. Since I know it is his order, I call out to him.)

Me: “Sir, this is your food, number 74.”

Rude Customer: “My number is 25074!”

Me: “Were you going to wait until twenty-five thousand people went by?”

Taxing Is Taxing Even In Canada

, , , , , , | | Right | May 20, 2019

(I am working a cash register when a middle-aged customer approaches with a single pair of flip-flops. Sales tax has not changed here for several years.)

Me: *scans sandals* “Your total is $5.50.”

Customer: “WHAT?! The tag says $5!”

Me: “Yes, sir, they are $5, but with tax, they come to $5.50.”

Customer: “Why aren’t they $5?”

Me: “They are, sir, but with tax, your total is $5.50.”

Customer: *shouting* “Bloody Harper!”

(He then throws the flip-flops on the ground before stomping out of the store.)

Me: *to coworker* “Apparently, he thinks this is the first Prime Minister we’ve had to pay tax under?”

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