It’s A Free “Country”

, , , | Right | December 9, 2017

(I work at a farm store, so naturally the piped-in music is country. I’m not a country fan in the least, but I tolerate it. I am working at the information desk when a female customer, I would guess in her 60s, approaches me.)

Me: “Hi there! How are you doing today? Anything I can help you find?”

Customer: “Hi! You know, I hate to be that person, but I just wanted to let you know I don’t agree with your choice of music for this store.”

Me: “Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that. We actually don’t get to pick the radio station. To be 100% forthcoming, it isn’t a station per se, but a satellite channel. It’s locked-in so we can’t change it.”

Customer: “Mmm… That’s very unfortunate. I wouldn’t think a family-oriented store would want to condone messages of drinking, adultery, drugs, and an anti-Christian lifestyle.”

Me: *rolling eyes internally* “I’m sorry the music offends you, ma’am. I wish there was something I could do about it.”

Customer: “Maybe there is something you can do. I’d like to speak to your manager.”

Me: “Actually, that would be me! I’m not the store manager, but I’m the manager on duty.”

Customer: *look of disappointment* “Oh, I see. When will the store manager be in?”

Me: “Here’s the thing, ma’am: the store manager doesn’t get to choose the music type, either. We have 60-plus stores all over the midwest, and all are tuned-in to country. I guess they figure since we’re a farm store, we should always have country music.”

Customer: “Are you serious? You have little children in your stores, and you’re playing songs about getting high on drugs, being drunk, drunk driving, and other reckless behavior!”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry, ma’am; there just isn’t anything I can do about it. I understand where you’re coming from, however. This type of music isn’t my favorite, either.”

Customer: *suddenly perking up and smiling* “Oh, really? You seem like a nice, clean-cut young man. What kind of music do you like?”

Me: *coming to the full realization of the corner I’ve painted myself into* “Oh! Me? Um… You see… I… uh… Death metal.”

Customer: “…”

What Came First, The Chicken Or The Hardware Store?

, , , , | Right | December 9, 2017

Customer: “When did you stop selling fried chicken?”

Me: “Excuse me?” *thinking didn’t hear him correctly*

Customer: “When did you stop selling fried chicken? I know I bought it here.”

Me: “We have never sold fried chicken here; this is a hardware store.”

Customer: “I know, but you use to sell the best fried chicken. I know it’s been a few years, but it was the best.”

Me: “I am sorry, but I have worked here since we opened ten years ago; we have never sold chicken, fried or otherwise.”

Customer: *walks off muttering about how great our chicken was and why we stopped selling it*

Me: *to the manager* “What are we pumping into the air today?”

And Pop! Goes Their Patience

, , , , , | Right | December 9, 2017

(A lady comes in with a child who looks to be about eight or nine. The lady is talking on her cell phone.)

Me: “Hi! How can I help you?”

(The customer throws her ID on the counter and continues talking.)

Me: “Ma’am?”

(She gives me a dismissive wave and continues talking. Meanwhile, her daughter is eyeing my basket of lollipops, and a line is starting to form.)

Me: “Ma’am? What can I help you with?”

Customer: *to caller* “Hold on.” *to me* “$300 cash, obviously! Geez.”

Me: “And how would you—”

(She turns her back on me, and continues the conversation.)

Me: “—like that back? Great. A guessing game. How fun.”

(I process the transaction, and wait for her to finish up her call so I can count back the cash. Her daughter scoots closer to the counter.)

Child: “Excuse me, miss lady. May I please have a lollipop?”

Me: “You sure can! You can have more than one, for being so polite.”

(She smiles, selects two, and quickly puts them into her jacket pocket.)

Child: “Mom? MOM? The teller lady is all done! Can we go now?”

(The lady waves off her daughter.)

Me: “And YOU get two more lollipops for being patient! Here you go!”

Child: “Cool! Thank you!”

(The mother hung up her phone, snatched her cash off the counter, and headed out the door. The daughter was right behind her, hiding her lollipops behind her back.)

Mixing With A Bad Crowd

, , , | Right | December 8, 2017

(I’ve recently moved to a small town in Texas and I’ve started working at a country club that also has a bar. I don’t work in the bar, but I know the general workings of it since the whole place is so small. One afternoon the regular bartender can’t find anyone to cover the bar for her so she asks me to work. She tells me the basics and everything seems good. The problem is that she has lived in this town her whole life and has worked here for almost 20 years, and therefore knows everyone’s names and families, and exactly what everyone drinks. This becomes a problem, because I don’t.)

Me: “Hello, sir. What can I get you?”

Customer #1: “Oh, I’ll just have my usual.”

Me: “All right, and what would that be?”

Customer #1: *sigh* “My usual. Are you deaf, girl?”

Me: “No, sir, I just haven’t learned everyone’s drinks yet. I’m sorry.”

Customer #2: *sitting next to him* “He always gets [Drink].”

(I go to make the drink and I grab the glass I was told to use for that type of drink.)

Customer #1: “No, no, no! That’s the wrong glass! I always have the other glass!”

(I grab the other glass, fill it with ice, and go to put the liquor in first.)

Customer #1: “No! The soda always goes in first!”

(It really doesn’t make any difference, but I put in the soda anyway and grab the liquor again.)

Customer #1: “I hate that liquor; I always drink [Other Liquor]! And don’t forget my lime and olives!”

(At this point, it’s not even the same drink that he ordered, and I’ve never seen limes or olives in this type of drink, but I finish the drink and hand it to him.)

Customer #1: “Finally! That took way too long; they should fire you! [Bartender] always has it ready when I walk in. Where is [Bartender]?”

Me: “She has the day off today; it’s her granddaughter’s birthday.”

Customer #1: “Well, I don’t give a d***! She should be here so I don’t have to wait all day for a drink!”

(The bartender apologized the next day for forgetting to warn me about him and said that he was notorious for being difficult and everyone just kind of ignores him.)

An Extra Nugget Of Consideration

, , , , , | Right | December 8, 2017

(My friend is nearsighted and loses her glasses on a week-long camping trip. As we are heading home, I stop by a fast food place to get us some real food for the first time in a week. We are both beyond tired. My almost-blind friend steps up to the counter to order.)

Friend: *staring intently at the menu* “I’ll have the eleven-piece meal.”

Employee: “Do you mean the number eleven, ten-count nugget?”

Friend: *confused* “No, no. It says eleven, right?”

(The conversation continues for a few minutes in the same thread as my friend tries to figure out what she is ordering. Eventually, she comes and sits down with me at the table and opens her nugget box. After eating she turns to me.)

Friend: “You know, I think she ended up putting eleven nuggets in my box, anyway.”

(Thank you for putting up with her, kind stranger!)

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