Opening A Whole New World To Them

, , , , | Right | December 30, 2017

(I work for a supermarket filling shelves when a male customer, roughly mid-forties, approaches me.)

Customer: “Excuse me.”

Me: “Yes, sir?”

Customer: “This can of tuna doesn’t have a pull ring.”

Me: “Yes, some of the larger ones don’t.”

Customer: “Then how the hell am I supposed to open it?”

Me: “With a can opener?”

Customer: “A what?”

Me: “A can opener.”

Customer: “What the hell’s a can opener?”

Me: “Umm… It’s a metal kitchen tool used to open cans.”

Customer: “I’ve never heard of such a thing in all my life!”

(I took him to the kitchen section and showed him the can opener and exactly how to use it. He thanked me and walked away, looking baffled.)

Some Sales Are Worth Crawling For

, , , , , | Right | December 28, 2017

Many years ago I was working at a supermarket as night-fill staff, where we restock the shelves after closing time. It was about 10 pm, and the roller shutter was three quarters shut, the lights in the mall were off, and the front of the shop was full of boxes.

A woman crawled under the mostly-shut roller door, then asked if we were open and if she could buy a couple of things!

The Good Times Will Come Again

, , , , , , , | Hopeless | December 22, 2017

(We’ve been seeing one of our patients regularly for the six years I’ve worked in this intensive care unit, and according to my coworkers he’s been a fixture since he was four months old. He’s 15 now, suffering from a serious heart condition and awaiting a transplant. He’s one of the politest, funniest, and genuinely nicest young men I have ever come across. Today, finally, he’s getting his new heart. Typically organ donation is done completely anonymously in Australia, and we aren’t legally allowed to tell anyone who their organs came from. In this case, the heart is coming from a 19-year-old boy who was killed by a drunk driver. As uncommon as it is, he was brought to our hospital and his parents have agreed to turn off his life support and donate his organs, so his parents are still hanging around saying their final goodbyes after surgery. The procedure goes well and our 15-year-old patient is asleep in his room, 18 hours after surgery. I’ve just finished some paperwork and am sitting at the nurses station chatting to some of the nurses. The 19-year-old’s parents have come out of their son’s room and asked if there is anything left to sign. My colleague is walking them through the final forms for the funeral home when the alarms start sounding for our 15-year-old patient. Several of us break into a dead sprint and go to help him. We burst into his room all at once to find him sitting up in bed, absolutely mortified.)

Me: “[Patient], what’s happening? Are you feeling okay?” *I start checking him over*

Patient: “Yes! Everything is fine! I’m fine!”

(I hear a giggle from behind me and look down. The poor kid has a pillow across his lap and a box of tissues next to him on the bed. I deduce that he has been “test-driving” his new heart, and we all slink out of the room, leaving him on his own to deal with his embarrassment. As we come back to the desk, one of the nurses tells the others what happened. From behind us, we hear a short laugh. We turn and see the 19-year-old’s parents, both struggling to contain their laughter.)

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t know you were there.”

(They break into uproarious laughter. It’s infectious, and eventually we’re all laughing. The 19-year-old’s mother eventually catches her breath enough to speak.)

Mother: “I’m sorry; I know it’s all supposed to be anonymous, but we know he ended up with our boy’s heart. Honestly, with the amount of time he spent in the bathroom as a teenager, I can’t think of anything more true to his memory than what that young man was doing!”

(It might have scared the h*** out of us when it was happening, but that teenager gave some good people a great laugh, exactly when they needed it.)

We’re Not Selling What You’re Buying

, , , , , , | Right | October 30, 2017

(I work at a large and “alternative” store known for its laid back attitude and plain-clothes “uniform.” People tend to shop at this store for the prices, regardless of how they feel about alternative culture. We are trained to ask open-ended questions when approaching customers.)

Me: “Hi there! What brings you into [Store] today?”

Customer: *looking me up and down with disdain* “Does this look like a F****** CHEMIST to you?”

Me: *stuttering* “No?”

Customer: “Then, clearly, I want to buy something! F***!”

Me: *smiles and walks off*

Don’t Mess With Family (Business)

, , , , , , , | Working | October 13, 2017

(My wife and I have owned a café a few blocks from our house for over a year. I suck at cooking, so 90% of the time I’m a stay-at-home dad to our two-year-old, while my wife is at the café nigh on constantly. I do help out from time to time, and I’ve met most of the employees. I decide to bring our daughter in for lunch one day, since she’s been begging for mummy since she woke up.)

Me: *talking to new employee I’d never seen before* “Hi, is [Wife] in? I’d like to speak to her.”

New Employee: *rolls eyes and sighs* “I don’t know.”

Me: “Could you please find out?”

New Employee: *sighs again* “I can get the boss for you, but I don’t know who [Wife] is.”

Me: “[Wife] is the boss.”

New Employee: *snorts* “No, she isn’t. You’ve been lied to, mate.”

Me: *getting pretty angry at this point about how rude this girl is* “Just get the boss, then.”

New Employee: “Fine, if you’re going to be rude about it!”

(She stalks off. My daughter climbs up onto one of the chairs and sits at the table, pretending to read the menu and excitedly telling anyone who walks past, “SEE MY MUMMY!”)

New Employee: *stalks back over* “He’s coming. Could you control your kid, please? She’s bothering the other customers.”

Me: “She’s not hurting anyone.”

New Employee: “Ugh, whatever.”

(She flounces off to serve someone. A very frazzled looking [Brother-In-Law] comes out of the office and sees me.)

Brother-In-Law: “Oh, it’s just you! I thought it was another bloody complaint about her. [Wife] will be back in a bit; she just ran to get the milk order. Hey there, [Daughter]!”

(My daughter grins and giggles at the sight of her uncle, and in her excitement, knocks over her sippy cup she’d brought with her. It’s spill-proof, so it just falls to the floor and rolls under the table.)

Daughter: “Uh-oh! Sorry, Daddy!”

Me: “That’s fine, sweetie.”

(Before I can get over there, the new employee storms over, picks up the sippy cup, and SLAMS it onto the table, narrowly missing my daughter’s hand. The sudden noise and the girl’s angry face scares my daughter, who begins to cry.)

Brother-In-Law: “Hey! What the h***?!”

New Employee: “She’s been running around wrecking the place since he walked in, demanding to see some lady. He can’t control his kid, and he’s obviously picked up with some woman who lied about being the boss here to seem important.”

Me: “I asked to see [Wife] and she has been nothing but rude. Should I tell her or should you?”

(My brother-in-law has picked up my daughter and is cuddling her, trying to stop her from crying.)

Brother-In-Law: “[New Employee], [Wife] is the boss.”

New Employee: “No, she isn’t. [Supervisor who happens to be my sister-in-law] said some married couple owned the place. She’s not married; she doesn’t wear a ring.”

Me: “She doesn’t wear a ring because when she cooks it tears the gloves. It’s on a necklace instead.”

New Employee: “Ugh, whatever. Could you just stay out of this?”

Me: “Here, take a look at my license.”

(I hand her my wallet, and she flips it open and looks at my license. I’ve never seen someone go so pale so quickly as this employee when she looks at my surname — the name of the d*** café.)

Me: *to [Brother-In-Law]* “Has she had her warnings?”

Brother-In-Law: *grins* “Two, in writing. [Wife] wanted to give her one last chance.”

Me: “I’d say she’s used that.” *to her* “You’re fired.”

New Employee: *stammering* “You can’t do that! You’re not the boss! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

Wife: *who has apparently been standing quietly in the office doorway for a few minutes and has heard enough* “I am definitely the boss, and you are definitely fired.”

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