Unfiltered Story #148200

, , , | Unfiltered | April 29, 2019

My male coworker told me a story today about about coworker of ours: “As she casually unplugged all of the connections on the back of my computer, we made small talk. [Coworker of ours had brought in red devil cake cupcakes and muffins].  She watch me as I was eating one of the muffins and said “Moist?,” with a raised eyebrow.
I said looked up and replied, “Me or the muffin?””

Unfiltered Story #142775

, , , | Unfiltered | March 8, 2019

(My sister, brother-in-law, their baby boy, and I went to this place where they cook the food in front of you. We were seated with this large family with two kids about ten years old. Our chef comes out and confirms everyone’s order, the kid in question has been a brat the whole dinner, refusing to eat the complimentary soup and salad.)
Kid: Chicken first!
(Chef looks at kid with a mix between a smile and a glare and proceeds to cook the vegetables and rice)
Chef: Tell you what, if you can guess what I make, I’ll make the chicken next.
(proceeds to make and “I <3 U” in the rice)
Kid: I… umm…. uuhh
Parent: It’s a-
Chef: now, now don’t help him, it’s all in good fun.
Kid: uhhhhh….
Chef: It’s a heart! Chicken last!
Kid: aww!
(Chef continues and after a while does cook the chicken as one of the last entrees.)
Chef: (Puts one piece on his plate) There you go, your chicken!
Kid: (look of disbelief)
Chef: (Laughs) just kidding! Here’s the rest of your food!

Plain Pasta Is Plainly Too Much

, , , , | Right | January 15, 2019

(My coworker told me this story. He works in the prepared foods department inside our grocery store. They deal with cooked foods and specialty salads. This woman comes up to him to order some pasta salad that contains pasta, tomatoes, cheese, and a light sauce.)

Customer: “I want the pasta salad, but I don’t want the tomatoes and the cheese.”

Coworker: “Being as that would just leave the pasta, it probably would be cheaper for you to buy some pasta and cook it.”

Customer: *snootily* “I don’t cook! Now, hurry up!”

(My coworker complies and the woman leaves with her pasta salad. Five minutes later, she comes back.)

Customer: *still snootily* “Does this pasta have sauce on it?!”

Coworker: “Yes?”

Customer: *gives it back to him* “I don’t want it!”

Coworker: “Okay.”

(My coworker then goes to scan it out and throw it away, as is store policy for anything that leaves his department’s counters. The woman notices and scoffs.)

Customer: “You’re throwing it away?!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, I have to.”

Customer: “Why can’t you just put it back with the rest of the pasta salad?!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, that is cross contamination—“

Customer: “That’s just a fancy word for throwing it away.”

Coworker: *exasperated* “No, ma’am, it’s our store policy. We can’t put it back in case someone tampered with it and then returned it. How would you like it if someone got some pasta salad, returned it to us, we put it back, and it turns out the customer who brought it back had eaten part of it?”

Customer: *ignoring what he said* “Well, you shouldn’t waste food! People are starving out there!”

(The woman huffed and left the store.)

Lactose But No Cigar

, , , , , , | Right | January 8, 2019

(I work in a grocery store in the deli department. It is very close to closing time for our department. I’m pretty tired when this customer approaches me.)

Customer: “Do you have any lactose cheese?”

Me: “Um… we’re done slicing for the night, but I can help you look on the shelf. What kind of cheese?”

Customer: “I don’t know, lactose cheese!”

Me: “Ma’am, lactose just means it has milk in it. Are you looking for a swiss, a cheddar—“

Customer: “Yes! Cheddar!”

Me: “Okay.”

(We go look and I find that all the cheddar cheeses on our shelves have milk, and therefore lactose, in them.)

Me: “Was there a specific brand you were looking for?”

Customer: “I don’t know! He just needs lactose cheese for his diet! He has to have lactose!”

Me: “Well… all these cheeses have lactose in them… but I’ve never heard of needing lactose for a diet. I’ve heard of lactose-free cheese—“

Customer: “Yes! Lactose-free!”

Me: *sudden realization* “Ohhh, you mean lactose-free cheese… Um…”

(My coworker sees me struggling with this customer.)

Coworker: “Can I help you find something?”

Customer: “Yes! Lactose cheese!”

Me: “Lactose-free cheese…”

Coworker: “Ah, yes, that would most likely be in our kosher section.”

Me: *lightly slaps head* “Urgh, how did I forget about the kosher section?”

Coworker: “It’s just down here, this way.”

(My coworker finished helping the customer find the cheese while I went back to the department to finish cleaning the last slicer and marvel at how brainless both the customer and I were.)

Giving Birth To Inconsideration

, , , , , , , | Working | April 10, 2018

I was hired into my convenience store job pregnant, with management aware. Everything started out okay, but as time goes by and I near the end of my pregnancy, my feet become extremely swollen and painful to stand on continuously, usually reducing me to tears if I don’t get a chance to sit down. I also get winded easily and feel faint if I overwork myself. Simply sitting for a few minutes and drinking water fixes it. I can still perform my job duties, but my doctor wants me to have access to a chair or a stool while I ring out customers. He writes a note, I give it to my manager who has no problem offering me a chair, and everything seems okay. I should also mention I’m not a smoker, so I do not get any other breaks apart from my lunch, while smoking employees get a break about every half hour.

A few weeks later, I’m working the register and stock, and the district manager comes in. I have my chair next to me and occasionally stop between totes or customers to sit down and have a breather. A few minutes after she comes in, the assistant manager comes up to me and tells me I have to go home, because the district manager said I was a liability. Furious, I go to the back office and ask for a letter from her stating that she is sending me home and why. She says they need a doctor’s note stating I can still work, and until then, I’m not allowed. Then she tells me to call the disability office.

I leave in tears and immediately call human resources. A few days later, the regional manager tells the district manager that I am indeed allowed to work, and I return, with no more issues.

About a week before I am scheduled to go on maternity leave — I am 36 weeks — the district manager returns. At this point, I’m very pregnant, so much so that people ask if I’m having twins. I’m also having practice contractions and am generally uncomfortable, but I still work, as it’s relatively simple and I only have a few days left.

The district manager walks up to me while I’m straightening the front end and hands me a bucket of hot, soapy water and a rag. She tells me to get on my hands and knees and clean the bottoms and tops of all the displays, shelving, and vending machines. I have just dusted them the day prior, but I guess that wasn’t good enough.

I spend the next three hours scrubbing on the floor and on a broken step-ladder, while also ringing people out. It is hard work, and I am able to do it, but it was still pretty inconsiderate, especially considering there are three other employees there who aren’t about nine months pregnant and working the till.

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