Unable To Validate His Reasoning

| Canada | Bad Behavior, Criminal & Illegal, Transportation

(I work at an underground parking lot. Above it is mostly offices and a few shops. Recently a gym moved into the building and offers their clients two free hours of parking as long as they validate their tickets and insert it into the pay machines. A man inserts his ticket into the machine and drives up to the gate. The gate doesn’t open so I look up at him.)

Customer: “I was at the gym.”

Me: “Oh, it looks like the ticket didn’t scan properly. You can go back upstairs to the gym and rescan it.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to do that. I was only at the gym for 15 minutes! I wanted to sign up for the gym but I didn’t have any ID on me so I had to leave.”

Me: “The discount only applies if the ticket is scanned at the gym. You’re welcome to back up and get it scanned again or pay the fee.”

Customer: “I didn’t scan my ticket. No one told me to do that.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Well, like I said, you can go up and scan it. It will take the discount off. Or, if you don’t want to you can pay the $5.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to do either. Let me out.”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t do that. You parked here and your ticket shows you owe $5. You can scan it at the gym or pay it.”

Customer: “No, I don’t have my wallet on me. Let me out.”

(This goes on for about ten minutes. We aren’t allowed to let them out for free as the money would come out of our pay checks.)

Customer: “Guess how old I am?!”

Me: “I don’t know how that is relevant.”

Customer: “I’m only nineteen! And guess where I work? At [Brand] fitness. I’m a personal trainer. Hey, I’ll make a deal with you. Look at this—” *he shuffles through his phone and shows me a picture of a man with no shirt on* “—if you want I can hook you up with him! Just let me out.”

Me: “No, thank you. Please either pay the ticket or back up and get the ticket scanned.”

Customer: “I’ll train you! Come on!”

Me: “No, thank you. Like I said, you have two options. Please choose one.”

Customer: “What if I ram the gate? I can get out that way.”

Me: “There’s a camera right behind you. It would log your license plate and you’d be charged for the price of the gate — which is more than the cost of your ticket.”

Customer: “Just let me out! I don’t want to do either things! I have things to do! I make $37 an hour! Just let me go.”

(This goes on for about another twenty minutes. Had he backed up and gone to the gym he would have been out in less than five.)

Me: “If you’re unwilling to pay or back up, I’m going to call security.”

Customer: “I’m not doing it!”

(I call security who comes down a few minutes later. I explain to the security guard what’s been happening and that I won’t be letting him out for free.)

Security guard: “You can either pay the ticket or back up and go get it scanned.”

Customer: “I’m not doing either.”

(He proceeded to argue with the security guard for ten minutes. Eventually he backed up and got the ticket scanned. The entire process took over forty-five minutes when it should have taken only five.)

Making You Freeze Like A Statue

| Gettysburg, PA, USA | Bizarre

(I work in a very small retail store with a large display window facing the street. We are just a building away from the center of the town, which is pedestrian and car heavy, especially during the tourist season. The display window is decorated with green and silver, with statues and other ornamental objects on display for the people walking by. All are for sale. The phone rings, and as the only one working, I answer.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. This is [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, hi! You had a statue on display in the window; I needed to know the price. It’s a [description of statue].”

(I walk over to the window; there are three or four statues that could be the one. I grab the most likely and check the price tag.)

Me: “I’m looking at one that’s priced at [price], but there’s also—”

Customer: “It’s the one to your right.”

(I felt every hair stand up on end as I gave him the price and then retreated to the back of the store. No one ever did come in for a statue.)

Obamacaring For The Environment

| Merced, CA, USA | Politics

(I’m shopping for some groceries and waiting in line to pay. The lady in front of me is paying for her things and loudly complaining. Note: California has just passed a ban on free plastic bags at stores, so you have to pay for them or bring your own.)

Cashier: “Would you like a bag?”

Customer: “Please, as many as you can give me.”

Cashier: “Just so you know, they’re 10 cents each.”

Customer: “I don’t care. It’s bull-s*** that we have to pay for these. Do they expect me to just carry my stuff to my car and then to my house? Does anyone know how much work that is? Does anybody want to explain the logic behind such a silly and needless law?”

Me: “It’s called the environment, ma’am. You know, trying to protect it so we can live on it.”

Customer: “Whatever. I’m a Trump supporter. We don’t believe in such nonsense as environment issues and climate change and science, I think you kids call it nowadays. It’s all God’s work and Trump is here to follow God and not the bullshit Democrats call ‘science.’ We’re lucky that God-hating Muslim Obama is gone. He supported this bull-s***.”

(She left still ranting about the Democrats and how Obama screwed America because he supported science.)

Email Fail, Part 11

| AL, USA | Extra Stupid, Language & Words, Technology

(I work as a librarian in my town. We aren’t really allowed to stay and help patrons on the computers because we aren’t qualified tech support nor do we have the time. Occasionally, I bend the rules a little and assist patrons who really need it. But today I really learned why we don’t help with computers.)

Patron: “I need help printing something from my phone.”

Me: “Is it in an email?” *this is usually what people mean by ‘on their phone.’*

Patron: “I don’t know. It’s just on my phone.”

Me: “Okay, it would need to be sent to an email and I can log you on to one of our computers to print. We can’t do any wireless printing, sorry.”

Patron: “How do I do that?”

(She leans over the counter with phone in hand asking me to do it for her. It takes a couple of tries but finally sends to her email. I log her onto a public computer and have to reset her email password for her because her “phone just knows it and she doesn’t have to log in, ever.” 15 minutes has already gone by.)

Patron: “I ordered flea bath for my cats on [Website] because I was getting a good deal.”

(I try to be polite and sound interested. However, it’s after lunch time and I’m starving.)

Me: “That’s great.”

Patron: “Yeah, but it was written in some foreign language I can’t read so I don’t trust it. I’m sending it back. But the guy was from Texas! I thought it’d at least be written in American.”

Me: *just nods head; I never respond to remarks like this*

Patron: *pointing to the screen* “The page won’t send me the return label. Why?”

Me: “I’m not really sure. It must be the website. It says to try again later. It could be running slow.”

(We try a few more times to open the email. She decides to call the website’s customer support number to get an answer.)

Patron: *on the phone with support* “I really don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t understand all this computer stuff. Talk to this girl that’s helping me.” *she shoves her phone that’s been pressed against her face into mine*

Me: “Hello?”

(I try not to act disgusted by using a stranger’s phone as I tell him exactly what the page says and he understand immediately what happened. The seller created the shipping label wrong so the site couldn’t process it correctly. It would be another week before it’s fixed and she could return her flea bath. The phone call lasted another ten minutes.)

Patron: “Well, okay. If I don’t get the label then, do I just throw my stuff away? I don’t trust it.”

Me: “I guess so. I’m just going by what the support guy said.”

Patron: “Okay. Anyways, I thought the flea bath was written in Mexican or something. I can’t read that so I asked my daughter to come look at because she took Mexican in high school. But she said “Mama, I can’t read that. It ain’t Mexican.” So I’m guessing it’s probably United Kingdom language or something. I can only read American. Thanks for all your help though!”

(She left the computer without getting her label and I rushed to lunch in bewilderment at her story. When I came back from my break, I learned that she left her contact information in case we ever sold our book carts or card catalogues. You know, the two main things we use daily. I won’t be bending the rules again any time soon.)

Related:

Email Fail, Part 10

Email Fail, Part 9

Email Fail, Part 8

Your Enemy Is Known

| WV, USA | Bad Behavior, Technology

(We often have video games out for testing. A game called ‘XCOM: Enemy Unknown’ has recently been released and we have it out for testing. I have my own personal save file on the hard drive, and a different memory unit for patrons. There is a large sign on the console that no patrons are to use the hard drive. One day, I glance up, and noticed a patron playing ‘XCOM’. As I watch him, I noticed that he is playing on my save file. I walk over to him.)

Me: “Sir, that is an employee save file. Could you please exit to the menu and use a customer file?”

(As I am saying this, the patron continues to play the game.)

Me: “Sir, do you hear me? Please exit to the menu.”

(He looks at me, but continues to play.)

Patron: “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.”

(He continues playing. He moves one of my soldiers into a very bad position.)

Me: *urgently* “Sir, you really need to exit to the menu.”

(The game moves into the alien’s turn. It is now impossible to exit. One of the aliens shoots, and kills, the soldier that the patron moved into a vulnerable position. The patron then exits the game and goes to the menu. A few days later, the same patron comes back into the store, and walks up to me.)

Patron: “Hi, I’d like to purchase XCOM, please.”

Me: “Okay, that’ll be $50. Oh, you know, by the way, Wednesday? When you were playing XCOM on the display TV? You killed my best soldier.”

(‘XCOM’ features ‘permadeath,’ meaning that if a soldier dies, they are dead for the rest of the game.)

Patron: “What? No, I didn’t.”

Me: “Yeah, you did. When you were playing on my file, that girl that you moved to where she was being flanked, and she got killed, she was my best soldier.”

Patron: “And she’s dead?”

Me: “Yeah, she’s dead.”

Patron: “Well, sorry about that. How is she now?”

Me: “SHE’S DEAD.”

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