Totally Estúpido! Part 8

, , , , , , | Right | September 15, 2019

(I am an assistant manager for a grocery chain in one of the most relaxed areas in the state. I’m the only manager on duty when our customer service desk pages over the intercom for a manager to pick up line one. I pick up and say the usual:)

Me: “Thank you for calling your friendly [Street] [Store]. My name is Yezi; how can I help you today?”

(I refer to myself as Yezi in the retail world, easier than explaining that my actual name is Yezirah, which nobody really gets. I have been told I don’t have a Hispanic accent even though I was born and raised in a third-world Hispanic country.)

Customer: “Oh, thank heavens, Angie. I was just in your store and the cashier was speaking Mexican to the customer in front of me at checkout… Mexican!

(They could be talking about me, for all I know.)

Me: “Ma’am, do you mean that the cashier was speaking in Spanish to a Spanish-speaking customer?”

Customer: “No, they were just jabbering in Mexican to each other and I am very upset about that, so upset I don’t want to shop in your store until everyone learns to speak American like the rest of us. We’re in America; everyone should speak American!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am. Next time you’re in our store, please feel free to ask for anyone on our management team to help you feel more comfortable and we will make sure you are spoken to in English, as everyone we employ speaks English.”

(Then, in my full Hispanic accent, I say to her:)

Me: “My name is Yezi Osorio, the store manager is [First Name] Arevalo, and our other assistant manager is [First Name] Galvan. Any one of us will be more than happy to help you in any of your shopping needs.”

Customer: *huffs and just hangs up*

(The language is Spanish, not Mexican, and there are 21 other countries that speak it other than Mexico; be careful who you complain to!)

Totally Estupido, Part 7
Totally Estupido, Part 6
Totally Estupido, Part 5

So Tender And Wild

, , , , , | Right | September 14, 2019

(It’s about 7:40 pm. The deli stops serving hot foods at seven, and deli clerks are to clock out by nine. We are behind as it is. My coworker and I are cleaning the deep fryers, washing dishes, and the like.)

Customer: *approaches hastily* “Are you guys closed?”

Coworker: *stops washing dishes* “Yeah, we are. Sorry.”

Customer: *annoyed* “Well, that’s just great! When do you normally close?!”

Coworker: “We close every night at seven, ma’am.”

(The customer lady checks her phone to see the time and just grunts annoyingly.)

Customer: “So, you’re telling me I can’t get four chicken tenders?!”

(There is a pan of old, kind of burnt chicken tenders in the now turned-off display case. It’s not been heated for way over the ten-minute rule and was dried out even before we turned off the heat. I stop in the middle of cleaning the deep fryer and turn to her.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. But we stop serving food from that side of the deli at seven. I can get you something from our salad bar—”

Customer: *interrupting me* “You’re telling me you can’t give me four chicken strips?!”

Me: “No, ma’am…”

Customer: “Then what’re you gonna do with them?!”

Me: “Normally at seven, if the tenders are still fresh, we put them in the fridge to be packaged up tomorrow and sold as cold food. But those have been sitting for a while even before we closed, so—”

Customer: *interrupting again* “You can’t give me four d*** chicken tenders?!”

Me: “I just said—”

Coworker: “Sorry, we can’t. It’s the rules.”

Me: “Yeah, it’d be against code for me to serve them to you.”

Customer: “Fine! Whatever!” *leaves*

(My coworker and I exchange looks and then get back to what we were doing. The customer comes back not two minutes later.)

Customer: “So, you’re telling me I can’t get four d*** chicken tenders?!”

Me: *internally screaming* “No, ma’am. You cannot. If you really want some, we do have some cold packaged tenders over at the cold display case.”

Customer: “But isn’t that stale, too?”

Coworker: “No, it’s not, ma’am. It was cooled and packaged before it was stale, keeping it mostly fresh for you—”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me that the packaged tenders are stale?”

Coworker: “No… It’s not. It’s more like…” *starts trying to explain to her how bacteria in food and temperature works like on our food handlers test*

Customer: “So, the packaged ones are filled with bacteria.”

Coworker: “No. It’s…” *starts repeating himself*

Me: “It’s not how it works, ma’am. And it’s just too late. The hot food is closed down for the night. We’re just following the rules.”

Customer: “I just want four chicken tenders!”

Coworker: *starts explaining again*

Me: “We’re not supposed to, ma’am. We don’t make the rules.”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me the packaged tenders have bacteria in them?!”

Coworker: *getting really tired of repeating himself*

Me: “Look, I’m sorry, ma’am. But we just don’t want to give you bad food and get in trouble. All right?”

(That seems to have done it, because she then leaves again and doesn’t come back.)

Coworker: *after a few minutes* “I miss her.”

Me: “Me, too… If she comes back, I wanna make sure to throw those tenders into the compost right in front of her.”

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The Next Marvel Movie Will Be Personal

, , , , , , | Right | September 14, 2019

(Lately, we’ve had an ongoing promo toy giveaway related to a recent major movie release. The toys are called “Marvel Micropopz,” and on the self-checkouts, a screen will appear before the payment options offering one if the purchase qualifies. The message is poorly-worded, and the whole promotion has generally been poorly explained and poorly advertised, so I’ve gotten used to explaining the same things to customers over and over. But when one older gentleman comes up to me after a purchase, his confusion about it really takes the cake.)

Customer: “Hey, there was this message about redeeming points on my register.”

Me: *ready to go into my usual explanations* “Oh, that’s a—”

Customer: “But it wasn’t my name on the screen. It said it was for Marv Mikropovitz or something.”

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Free Will Gets Free Drink

, , , , , | Right | September 14, 2019

(I work in a small pub. It’s a small village and we get quite a few regulars. One of these regulars is my uncle’s best friend. My uncle has recently passed away from bowel cancer, and his best friend is taking it especially hard. Neither men married and my uncle died quite young. I’m behind the bar.)

Me: “Hi, [Best Friend]. How are you today?”

Best Friend: “Not good, love. Can’t wait to get this will business out of the way.”

Me: “Put your money away; this one’s on me.”

(I make a note in the employee book to charge for the drink and pull the pint. Just as I pass it over, this happens:)

Woman: “Why does that man get a free drink? I want a free drink!”

Me: *ignoring the woman* “The restaurant through there is empty at the moment, [Uncle’s Best Friend]. Feel free to go sit down for a minute. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Woman: “Don’t you ignore me! I want a pint of Carlsberg and I’m not paying for it!”

Me: “I bought that man a drink out of my own money as he’s going through a tough time right now. I don’t even know you!”

Woman: “Well, I’m [Woman]; buy me a drink!”

(My manager comes out of the back and the woman’s eyes widen.)

Woman: “Oh, f***.”

Manager: “You’re still barred, [Woman]! Get out!”

(The woman scurries away.)

Me: “What did she do?”

Manager: “She pissed in someone’s pint when they went to the bathroom.”

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No More Room To Drink

, , , | Right | September 13, 2019

(I work night audit at a decent-sized hotel. One night when I come in to work, my manager briefs me on a family staying with us that had a few — perfectly legitimate — problems with their stay. First, one of their third-party reservations did not come through in our system, and we had no record of it existing anywhere. Just to be nice, we comped their night, since we couldn’t charge the third party without proof but didn’t want to possibly double-charge them, but the only room we had available was a specialty suite. The next day, it turns out that our sales team input a contracted reservation incorrectly, and so the specialty suite needs to be made available. Now, we have to move this already upset family out of their upgraded room, though we do comp that night, as well, for the continued issues. However, my manager does warn me that she heard them muttering about “finding some more things wrong” after being given the second comp, suggesting they are looking for more to complain over to get more freebies. Just after my manager leaves, a young man comes up to my desk.)

Me: “Hello!”

Guest: “Hi… Um… So, I’m in this room… and… and my sister forgot her phone…”

(It is immediately apparent that the guest is VERY inebriated.)

Me: “Okay… so…”

Guest: “Yeaaaah… She forgot it… so… I need her room…”

Me: “Erm, well, I can’t just give out room numbers…”

Guest: “It’s under [Last Name]. I’ve got the keys to umm… to [Room #1] and [Room #2]… and I need her room number… ‘cause we got kicked out of [Specialty Suite].”

(I’m immediately groaning internally, because now I know who I’m dealing with, but my manager didn’t give me all of their room numbers because the whole issue should have been resolved.)

Me: “Umm, well, I see two rooms under [Last Name].”

Guest: “Nope! That’s wrong; there are three! But that’s okay; that’s how we get free stuff.”

Me: “Erm… Well, hang on… Is there another name it could be under?”

Guest: “Noooo… It’s [Last Name]. Or [Other Name] Or…”

(The guest proceeds to rattle off a string of names, some of which are surnames and some of which are first names, and some could be either one. I try to type them in as fast as he says them to check for them. Finally, on about the sixth one he offers, I find another reservation, with notes connecting it to his room.)

Me: “Ah! [First Name, Completely Different Last Name]?”

Guest: “Yeaaaahhh… that’s my sisterrrrr…”

Me: “Okay. Now just let me check your ID… okay, she’s in [Room #3].”

Guest: “Okay… okay… so we’re in [Room #1], and [Room #3], but we should have three.”

Me: “Yes, that’s [Room #2], like you said earlier.”

Guest: “Okay… um… yeah… huh… okay…”

(He wanders off… only to return five minutes later.)

Guest: “So, that was, uh… [Two Incorrect Room Numbers].”

Me: “No, no… You said you had keys to [Room #1] and [Room #2], and your sister is in [Room #3]. You have three rooms.”

(Worth noting, the guest is actually holding a key packet with at least one of the room numbers written on it.)

Guest: “Okay… [Incorrect room number].”

Me: “Noooo…” *lists the three numbers again*

Guest: “Okay…” *correctly recites room numbers* “You know, it’s okay. It’s okay. This is how we get free stuff… You just made a mistake, woke up too late or something… It’s okay… We’ll just get more stuff…”

Me: *thinking about how it’s not my mistake that he’s too sloshed to get to his room* “Okay, sir, you all right now?”

Guest: “Yeahhh…”

(He wanders off again… and returns again, this time throwing the keys on my desk.)

Guest: “I got the keys to [string of a mixture of correct and incorrect room numbers] and just… just all the keys and they don’t work!

(I can see he has a bunch of keys all shoved into one packet. He probably mixed them all up and can’t match them to their correct doors.)

Me: “Okay, sir… Hang on one second…”

(I then very carefully write out a new key packet for each room, writing the numbers very large, make exactly one key for each room, and place them in their respective packets.)

Me: “There… This one is your sister’s room, and these two are the ones with your name on it, okay?”

Guest: “Okay… it’s okay… We’ll just get more free stuff…”

(Finally, he wandered off and stayed away this time. But I did let the morning crew know that, once he slept it off, he was not to be given further discounts for being too drunk to remember or locate his rooms!)

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