Jesus Can Come Back In The Morning

, , , , , | Right | June 23, 2017

(This story was told to me by a coworker a few years after the event. On the evening of September 11, 2001, the restaurant is full of customers buying food or just a coffee discussing the day’s events with each other. The store closes at midnight, but many customers have lost track of the time and stay. The doors to the lobby are typically locked at 11 pm, so staff has had to help customers leave during the last hour and during cleaning. Most customers have left by midnight, but two old women remain talking to each other. Finally, the cleaning is finished and the staff is ready to clock out and go home, at about 1 am.)

Coworker: “Excuse me, ma’am?”

Woman: “Yes?”

Coworker: “We closed an hour ago. We’re getting ready to shut the lights off and go home.”

Woman: “Oh, we didn’t mean to keep you! But… have you heard about the power of Jesus?”

(Tired and exhausted, my coworker winds up replying:)

Coworker: “Ma’am, if you don’t go, you’re going to feel the power of Satan!”

Tryout And Tryout Again

, , , , | Right | June 23, 2017

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

Customer: “Hi, when are tennis tryouts?”

Me: “I’m sorry; what was that?”

Customer: “Tennis tryouts. When are they?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about tennis tryouts.”

Customer: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure.”

Customer: “This is the number to call about tryouts, right? It was on the flyer.”

Me: “No, sorry, this is a restaurant.”

Customer: “I see.” *hangs up*

Manager: “Wow, why won’t you let anyone tryout for the tennis team?”

Me: “I only want the best.”

Allergic To Metal And Bad Customers

, , , , | Right | June 23, 2017

(I work for a large retailer. I have a metal allergy, and a necklace I wore the day before has given me a small red mark on the side of my neck. I didn’t think to cover it with make-up because of it’s size. A middle-aged woman comes to pay just as my supervisor is bringing me the change I have ordered. He waves me to ring her up first.)

Me: “Your total will be 9.72.”

Customer: *rather loudly* “Oh, my God.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: *to my supervisor, loudly enough for everyone in line to hear* “This GIRL has a hickey on her neck! How could you even let her ring me up?! She should be fired immediately!”

(She gives me a smug, snarky look before turning expectantly to my supervisor, who looks a little lost.)

Me: *finally realizing what she is talking about* “Actually, ma’am, what you are referring to is a reaction to my metal allergy. I wore a necklace yesterday made of nickel by mistake.”

(She stares at me for a good ten seconds, then huffs.)

Customer: “Well, you ought to cover it. It’s disgusting.”

(I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just finished her transaction as quickly as I could. After she left, my supervisor turned to me and smiled.)

Supervisor: “I’m glad you handled that. The things I would have said could have cost me my job!”

The Picture Of An Impossible Request

, , , , , | Right | June 23, 2017

Customer: *dropping off film* “How long will this take?”

Me: “About an hour.”

Customer: “I’m in a hurry; can you make it 20 minutes?”

Me: “It takes at least 40 minutes to develop and print film, and that’s if I have nothing else going on.”

Customer: “So it can’t be done in 20 minutes?”

Their Complaining Spree Has Hit A Bump

, , , , , | Right | June 23, 2017

(My colleague is seven months pregnant. She’s quite petite so it’s obvious that she’s carrying a child, and most of the customers she’s helped out have noticed and congratulated her. It’s currently summer and our store can get quite hot, so our boss has allowed her to sit on a stool behind the checkout and have a small fan on her counter. I am working at the counter next to her when a customer approaches her.)

Customer: “There’s a product on the very top shelf that I need you to get down for me.”

Colleague: “Of course, ma’am. [My Name] will be happy to find a ladder and help you out with that.

Customer: “What?! How dare you try and just palm me off onto somebody else! Why can’t you just do it yourself?!”

Colleague: *gesturing to her bump* “Well, as you can see I shouldn’t really be climbing up on ladders in my current condition.”

Customer: “You lazy cow; what’s that supposed to mean?”

Colleague: “I’m sorry, but I can’t get up on a ladder because I’m preg—”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. Clearly you think you’re in some sort of privileged position with your fan and stool behind the counter while your poor colleagues slave away in the heat. Go and find a ladder right now or I’ll call and complain to your manager.”

(Overhearing the entire conversation, I decide to step in.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but my colleague has been trying to tell you that she’s obviously quite pregnant and for medical reasons cannot put herself in a position where she risks a fall.”

(The customer looks at Colleague’s bump, the light bulb clearly switching on in her head.)

Customer: “It’s not very high up! She’s still supposed to be helping me. She should go and fetch it!”

Me: “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of an unborn child, would you? Now, if you show me what you need from the top shelf I’ll happily get it down for you.”

(The customer glared at me and started barking orders. At least she left my poor colleague alone after that.)

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