When Greeting Is Fleeting

, , , , | Right | June 27, 2018

(I work in a fast food restaurant. I go to the register to clock in and there is a customer standing there. Note that it is morning, and I am only expected to greet customers when they arrive, not when I arrive and they’re already there.)

Me: “Have you been helped, sir?”

Customer: *slowly* “Good afternoon. Welcome to [Restaurant].”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: *again, clearly trying to prompt me* “Good afternoon. Welcome to [Restaurant].”

Me: *looking him in the eye* “Thank you. I’m glad to be here. What can I get started for you?”

Copay Or No Way

, , , , , | Right | June 23, 2018

(The office where I work has a fee for any cancellations with less than 24 hours notice. We also have a policy to collect copays up front at the time of service. Both of these policies are par for the course in the offices in our area.)

Patient: *hands me her insurance card*

Me: “Okay, it looks like you have a $10 copay.”

Patient: “I don’t have any money!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we do require that you pay your copay at the time of your visit.”

Patient: “Well, I have no money, so I can’t pay you anything.”

Me: “Okay… Let me check with my manager to see what we can do.”

Patient: “Never mind! I don’t have time for this!” *turns and leaves our office*

Me: “Okay, then.” *bills her the $25 cancellation fee, instead*

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Behaved Without Cockroach Reproach

, , , , | Right | June 22, 2018

(I work with a few other people at the front desk of a suite-based hotel. It’s vacation season, and the lobby is super busy. A girl who looks about 17 comes in and bee-lines for the concierge.)

Coworker: “Hello, miss, how can I help you today?”

Girl: “Uh, there’s a problem in our suite.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry to hear that. What seems to be the matter?”

(The girl glances around, leans across the counter, and beckons [Coworker] towards her. She says something to him in a very low tone, and he immediately goes pale.)

Coworker: *leaning back* “Oh, wow! I am so sorry you have to deal with that. We will take care of that right away. Is there anything I can do for you or family in the meantime?”

Girl: *at a normal volume* “Nah, don’t worry about it. I took care of most of it. Just thought you ought to know before you get anyone else in. Take care!”

(She turns and leaves.)

Me: “What was that all about?”

Coworker: “Only the chillest guest ever.” *lowers voice to whisper* “She wanted to tell me that she found some cockroaches in their room and that we should take care of it before we rent the suite out to anyone else.”

Me: “Are they asking us to comp them on the suite?”

Coworker: “She isn’t even asking to be moved! Said they’re checking out tomorrow, anyway!”

Me: *stunned silence*

Coworker: “I’m going to go make her a basket.”

(We have gift baskets with candy bars, snacks, and coupons to various local businesses and restaurants for VIPs. With all the unreasonable complaints we get, it was MIND-BLOWING for someone to come in with a legitimate issue like that without getting angry or making any demands. We still thank our lucky stars that someone that polite got the room with cockroaches. And yes, we immediately scheduled an appointment to have the room treated after they left.)

Millennials Are Ruining Petroleum!

, , , , | Right | June 21, 2018

(I pump gas at a full-service gas station at a time when gas costs between a buck and a buck-fifty. A crusty geezer comes in and gripes about prices.)

Customer: “When I was your age, gas cost 17 cents a gallon!”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Customer: *continues b****ing about gas price* “…17 cents a gallon!”

Me: “Sir, when you were my age, how long did it take to earn 17 cents?”

Customer: *grumbles under breath and walks away*

Real Pens Never Go Out Of Stylus

, , , , , | Right | June 20, 2018

(An elderly woman is paying for her purchase with a credit card. I help her swipe her card through the reader and prompt her to sign on the screen with the stylus. She is having some difficulty.)

Customer: *shaking the stylus* “This pen must be out of ink; it won’t write.”

Me: “It doesn’t use ink, ma’am. You need to keep your signature within the box.” *pointing at the box on the screen*

(She managed to make some illegible squiggles in the box. I handed her her receipt and wished her a pleasant afternoon. I giggled inside because I’m pretty sure she thought her shaking the stylus for ink is what made her signature appear.)

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