You Ended Up Being His Plus One

, , , , , | Right | August 4, 2020

I work day-of wedding coordination at an extremely upscale country club in the south. Because it is so expensive to join the club and host events, members expect everything to be PERFECT.

A big part of my job is making sure the wedding party and hosts are happy no matter what, so if there are any issues at all, we handle it. This happens about five hours into a reception with an open bar, wine service, and passed drinks.

A coworker speed-walks up to me with a look of slight panic.

Coworker: “There’s an issue with a guest. I need your help outside.”

Outside, a man is so intoxicated that he’s rolling in the grass like a turtle stuck on its shell, completely unable to stand up on his own or speak. We enlist some bartenders to help us half-carry him inside. We prop him up in a chair away from other guests, and he almost immediately passes out onto the table.

Bartender: “I’ll get him some water, but you need to stay here and make sure he doesn’t fall out of the chair and hurt himself.”

Me: *To the other coordinators* “I’ll stay here with him. We need to figure out if he has any friends or relatives who can take him home. Don’t bother the hosts if you don’t have to. Oh, and maybe get a trash can, as well, in case he vomits.”

It turns out the man was at the wedding completely alone, leaving his wife and kids at home in another state and knowing no one in town except the groom. Along with another coordinator, I spend the next hour physically keeping this semi-conscious, significantly-larger-than-me man in his chair and holding a trash can up to his face as he vomits, sometimes missing the can and getting on me. The smell is unbelievable.

A few guests notice, and we have to keep a permanent unfazed, pleasant expression saying, “Oh, don’t worry at all! This happens all the time.” Eventually, the — also very intoxicated — groom spots his friend.

Groom: “Heeey, [Friend]! How you doing, buddy? Looks like you’ve had a great time.”

He sees my coworker holding the man’s shoulders to keep him from falling forward out of the chair while he heaves into the trash.

Groom: “If I knew I could get a back rub out of it, I might just be sick next!” *Winks* “Well, I don’t want anything to do with this, but he’s a great guy, so take care of him.” *Wanders off*

The wedding finally ended and we were able to get the man into a wheelchair and roll him to the guest shuttle back to his hotel. An absolute angel of a guest and her husband volunteered to chaperone him and make sure that he got to his room safely. If I hadn’t smelled like vomit, I would have hugged her.

After all this, I still had to pack the married couple’s overnight bags, deal with a hissy fit from the bride, clean up the reception space, and accommodate last-minute requests from the host to pack items she was supposed to bring home that night and hold them for the next morning. By the end, we’d been on our feet for more than eight hours straight with no breaks or food.

We were not tipped.

Not So Pretty In Pink, Part 6

, , , , , | Right | August 4, 2020

I’m a customer, watching all this happen in a single visit of barely an hour.

My family and I enter a fairly busy fast food restaurant and start placing our order at the kiosk.

The door bangs open and a woman in a pink camo shirt carrying a to-go bag storms up to the cashier. [Cashier] is a tiny, soft-spoken Hispanic woman most customers adore. The woman proceeds to upend said bag on the counter and throws her receipt at [Cashier]. I can’t understand much of what is said, aside from swear words and “wrong” over and over, due to her screaming and her heavy, unidentifiable — to me — accent.

To her credit, the cashier apologizes calmly, fixes the order, and delivers it without so much as batting an eye.

We sit down to wait for our order to come out. A few minutes pass, and another woman, also wearing pink — this time a pullover — suddenly starts hollering across the dining area about how her table never got their coffees and, “What the f*** are y’all doing back there?” Again, this crazy lady and her humiliated-looking daughters are placated with minimal trouble.

My family’s order arrives, and we eat in relative silence, only giving each other weirded-out looks and making “holy crap” comments.

As we prepare to leave… you guessed it… another lady, this one decked in pink from head to toe, comes in. She starts screeching about how dumb they were yesterday for screwing up her order, how she should get a refund and a replacement, how all the “d*** Mexicans” should stop f****** over our society, etc. Every other word out of her mouth is an expletive, and she starts banging on the counter and kiosks.

The exit we need is past her, and as violent as she is becoming, we think it better to stay put and well clear.

The manager, a very large black man, comes out and tells the woman that she is being refused service and banned, and she goes berserk. Luckily, a quick call to the cops has her hightailing it.

I don’t know why pink was suddenly the color of choice for crazy, but it definitely swore me off wearing the color myself for a bit.

Not So Pretty In Pink, Part 5
Not So Pretty In Pink, Part 4
Not So Pretty In Pink, Part 3
Not So Pretty In Pink, Part 2
Not So Pretty In Pink

Their Push For Discounts Are Getting Rusty

, , , , | Right | August 4, 2020

We are a popular discounted retail store that offers a large variety of items including women’s clothes, men’s clothes, home decor, baby items, and children’s clothing and items. This particular day, after we have received our first shipment of garden decor due to the spring season, a customer comes up with two identical items.

Me: “Hi, how are you doing today?” 

Customer: “I’m great, but these two garden items didn’t have a tag on them so I wanted to know how much they are.” 

Me: “Oh, no problem. Just wait for a moment and I will get a price for you!” 

I walk back to the garden display and find a similar-looking object with the same height and frame as the one the customer has brought up. It has a tag on it saying $13.99. I walk back to my cash register to inform the customer of the price.

Me: “Those are $13.99 each, which is a good deal because they are about $25 in other stores!” 

Customer: “Uh… they are rusted and discolored from sitting in your warehouse for so long… so I need a discount.” 

I garden a lot and know for a fact that many things in garden centers and other outdoor decor have been purposely rusted because that is the new style.

Me: “I apologize, but a lot of garden decor has been manufactured as rusted because it is a popular trend among gardens. Those were made to look like that.” 

The customer throws the two heavy metal garden items across my counter and begins yelling.


My Therapist, Brian

, , , , , | Right | August 4, 2020

I am working with a hypnotherapist to stop grinding my teeth. He is a crass-humoured, grey-bearded man about twice my age. He is Jewish and knows I am a Christian, and every so often, we have the following conversation, if you can call it that:

Therapist: “I am one of God’s chosen people.”

He then seems to expect me to be fazed by the statement. I am not. I mean, even if there was any theological disagreement, that’s not something to get fazed by. Eventually, however, he comes out with something a little different.

Therapist: “I am the Chosen One.”

Me: “You’re not the Messiah; you’re a very naughty boy!”

1 Thumbs

Not Afraid To Express Yourself At The Express Checkout

, , , , , | Right | August 4, 2020

I’m a cashier at a huge grocery store during a weekend shopping rush. I work at the fifteen-or-less lane, and the line is already quite long when a woman in her fifties gets in the line with a cart full of groceries. I remind her about the policy on the express lane — all we can do — and this ensues.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is fifteen items or less.”

Customer #1: “I’m not waiting in those f****** lines. I’m in a hurry. Just do your f****** job.”

Customer #2: “So are all of the rest of us. That is why we just stopped by to pick up the absolutely necessary stuff and came to the express line.”

Customer #1: “Just mind your own business.”

[Customer #1] starts piling up her groceries to the belt when I hear a loud whistle. It’s [Customer #2]. Everyone stops what they’re doing and starts looking for where the noise came from. [Customer #2] starts to talk with a loud voice to everyone in the store.

Customer #2: “I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, could I please have a second of your time? I’m conducting a poll about a little situation we have here at the express lane. We have this woman here—” *pointing at her* “—who is refusing to leave the express lane even though she has a cart full of groceries and the cashier has asked her politely, and she is cursing at her. I would like to take a poll if people think she’s an entitled a**hole or not. If you think she is right and absolutely entitled to use the express lane, make some noise!”


Customer #2: “Aaand! If you think that she is an entitled b**** who should drag her cart to a normal line, make some noise now!”

People started clapping and making noise. The first customer, now beet red in the face, shouted, “F*** you!” and stormed out of the store. I had to call someone to put her things away, but that was definitely worth it!

1 Thumbs