Unfiltered Story #106928

, , | Unfiltered | March 8, 2018

It’s been a long day, and I wore sandals to run the day’s errands, which included getting several clothing items for my nephew, and a clock radio. I sit down in one of the enclosures at the bus stop, to rub my tired feet.

Weird Dude: *walking in a few seconds after me, as I take my sandal off* Heyyyy, Is this seat taken?
Me: *propping my foot on the bench, with my stuff in front of it* Yes.
Weird Dude: So I can sit here? *tries nudging my stuff away, to get near my feet*
Me: No, you may not. *re-arranges stuff, and then starts working the aches out of a bunion*
Weird Dude: Uh, whoa… mind if I take over? I uh… I know a lot about getting aches out of feet.
Me: I do mind. Please leave me alone. *continues working out an ache in my other foot*
Weird Dude: *looks down* Oh. Sandals are amazing. Simply the best! *is staring at my feet super weirdly*
Me: The worst, actually. Been a long day.
Weird Dude: So… can I rub your ankles?
Me: No! Don’t ask again.
Weird Dude: How about for $100? Would you let me do ya for a hundred bucks?
Me: NO!
Weird Dude: $250? You’d get the full foot for that…
Me: Hell no! Go away! *I grab all my stuff*
Weird Dude: Per foot?
Me: NO!

I remember I have socks at this point in one of my numerous bags. I get them, quickly put them on, and shove my feet back into the sandals.

Weird Dude: Ugh! Argyl…oh hey wow that actually works with your pretty li’l feet. *puts his hands in his pockets*
Me: Oh my god, GO AWAY! *brandishes clock radio box*

At that moment, the mall cop who does hourly rounds at the bus stop finally appears. But, they’re not going into any of the enclosed spaces, like the one I was in.

Me: HEY! SECURITY! *bangs on a metal wall of the enclosure*
Officer: *runs in* Oh. Oh damn it, Dan!
Me: …?
Weird Dude: I… I mean, I didn’t mean any harm! I just wanted to give her a good foot rubbin’!
Me: For $250 per foot? And you can’t take no as an answer?
Weird Dude: *is rocking back and forth with his fists clenched in his front pockets* Uhmmmm…
Officer: *looks him up and down, while opening the handcuffs* Oh for fuck sake, Dan, you’re coming with me now.

After he’s Mirandized, we’re taken to the security room and I give my statement. The officer told me a few months later, when I asked, that he pled guilty to all charges filed against him.

A Human Pairing As Good As Wine

, , , , , | Working | March 7, 2018

(This happens on my first day working in a new grocery store, well over a decade ago, when Google is new. A customer I have just helped with something in the bakery finds me while I’m on a break:)

Customer: “Oh, good! It’s you! You’re so nice; can you help me choose some wine?”

Me: “No, sorry. I’m—”

Customer: “Oh, nonsense! You’re the perfect person to help me!”

Me: “I’m not—”

Customer: *launches into an incredibly detailed description of her dinner, the various wine choices, and what a chore it is to choose wine*

Me: “I don’t know anything about wine pairings. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Well, why not?!”

Me: *pauses to steady my nerves* “I’m 19, ma’am.”

Customer: “WELL, WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SAY SO?!” *realizes her volume and pauses* “Oh, I’m so sorry. I really shouldn’t have shouted there, yeah. Do you know how to find something that would go well with my chicken parmesan?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. The Internet might know. Google would help a lot more than I can, sorry.”

Customer: “You know, I don’t really know if I have that Internet thing at my house, but I do have a computer. If I don’t have the Google, my son can install a Google on it… Oh, and thank you, young lady; you’ve been a dear.”

(I tell her to have a nice day, as she starts to shuffle away, mumbling about computers and “installing a Google,” and I stare after her, amused. The liquor department manager comes up to me.)

Liquor Manager: “Oh, that’s Mrs. [Customer]! I’ve never thought to suggest that she use the Internet before!”

Me: “Is she a regular?”

Liquor Manager: “Yeah, and she doesn’t get that I know nothing about wine pairings, because I hate that stuff!”

Me: “Well, I’m 19. She actually apologized to me when I told her that.”

Liquor Manager: “Wow.” *starts playing with her hair and trying to put it up* “Hmmm. I might actually try to pass for 20. I mean, not that you can even look that…” *sees the look on my face get a bit squinty* “…y-young? I’m not saying you’re lying, it’s just that you cannot possibly be 19! You have got to be… You can’t be 19, is what I’m saying.”

Me: *hands her my ID, which confirms my age* “If you’re trying to say I look over 21, I appreciate the compliment.”

Liquor Manager: “Wow. So… I mean… Wow! You don’t look that age. I mean, you look much younger than you actually are!”

Me: “I’d much rather look my actual age, to be totally honest.”

(She went on and on about how wonderful it was to have such access to the fountain of youth, and how young I looked, even though I kept on making it clear that I really didn’t appreciate much commentary on my age. She kept getting huffy and assuring me that it was just a compliment and that I should just accept that. I found a way to not-so-politely excuse myself, to get back to my job, as I found this manager to be much more unpleasant than the customer and her wine request! Two years, and many liquor-related conversations with my new favorite customer later, the customer found out when my birthday was. She gave me a rosé Champagne, with a card that read, “For your next chicken parmesan, now that you’re old enough to not have to rely on that Google anymore!” She also suggested that I apply for a position in the liquor department, and when I got the job, the liquor manager was so pissed off she quit! Due to my Google-found expertise with wine, I was quickly promoted to replace her, and lasted five years in that job before I left the company.)

Banned From Getting The Band

, , , , , | Working | March 7, 2018

(My fiancé and I have decided, two weeks prior to our wedding, to finally go to the jewelry store and pick out wedding bands. As we both dislike most jewelry, we have decided on getting plain, white gold bands to match my single-stone, white gold, 1.5-carat Moissanite ring. We decide to check out a jeweler in the department store I work at, meaning I would get an employee discount. We’d gone to another jeweler for the Moissanite, because the one at the department store doesn’t have Moissanite rings, and I am very specific about not having a diamond.)

Me: “My fiancé and I are looking for wedding bands. We want simple—”

Clerk: *grabs my hand* “Oh, what a gorgeous diamond! I have several wedding bands that will match!”

(She drops my hand and goes to a nearby jewelry case. Within 45 seconds, she brings out a gigantic onyx and diamond monstrosity for him, and a silver, three-stone, two-carat engagement ring for me.)

Clerk: “This is only $3,560! A steal at that price!”

Me: “What I was trying to say is that we would like plain, white gold wedding bands. No stones; I’d prefer my Moissanite to stand out on its own.”

Fiancé: “Yeah, those aren’t even an option based on the stones alone. And that looks like an engagement ring. Also, she works at [Department Store], so we were wondering about the employee discount?”

Clerk: “Yeah, it’s an engagement ring. It’ll work; I promise. I mean, you could always get rid of that single stone; it’s too small.”

(She briefly explains the discount. Over the next half-hour or so, she shows us about ten different options at decreasing price points that are not anywhere near what we wanted, promising each time that we’ll like her selection and that she’ll get us what we want. I clarify several times that we would really like to see plain rings. At one point, I notice a full case of plain rings right behind her, on the back wall of the store. I ask her about the case, and she ignores me. I am getting increasingly irate, and in response to her showing me a $599 engagement ring and wedding band set and sneering at me with disgust as she does so, I finally snap:)

Me:As I have stated, several times, I would love to see any of your plain. White. Gold. Rings. Don’t bother showing me another one. I’m sure that [Competitor], the place I bought my Moissanite from — with my fiancé — would be able to give us what we want.”

(She ignores me, of course, so she produces yet another diamond encrusted piece of “f*** this.” A $200 wedding band, at this point. She glares at me. I turn and walk out without another word.)

Fiancé: “You have done a fantastic job at ignoring everything we’ve stated. Goodbye.”

(Less than five minutes later, we arrive at the competitor.)

Me: “Hi! We were looking for wedding bands.”

Jeweler: “Of course! I have an entire case right here. What were you looking for? We have silver, white gold, gold, 14k, 10k, with stones…”

Fiancé: “Ah, just plain, and white gold to match her ring.”

(After a brief exchange of information to bring up my account:)

Jeweler: “Oh, what a beautiful Moissanite!”

Me: “Thank you! I get asked, ‘Is it real?’ all the time, and I’m like, ‘Yes, it does exist!’”

Jeweler: *laughs* “Very good choice, I must say. Your ring is a 14k, but I recommend a 10-carat for you, sir.”

Fiancé: “Excellent, thanks!”

(We selected our rings, and our transaction was processed within 15 minutes of our arrival in the store. We got a better deal with them than anything I was being offered at the other place, so I was quite happy. As we were walking past their shop-front, I saw the woman in her shop. She glared at me with her arms crossed. I smiled and waved at her with the hand that was holding my new ring.)

Resigned Yourself To Not Caring Anymore

, , , , , , | Working | February 28, 2018

(It is my last day of working retail ever. I am very pregnant and very cranky, and I have been in retail dealing with a**hole customers for seven years at this point. None of us are at our best right now, especially me, mainly because I don’t have any f***s left to give.)

Customer: *gets super close to my personal space*

Me: *moves away and continues stocking bakery items from my cart* “Hi! Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Customer: *completely ignores me, and continues to browse the table I’m stocking*

Me: *stocking the table in silence*

Customer: *looks over at me* “Ma’am?”

Me: *looks him directly in the eyes* “Yes, sir, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “YOO-OO HOOOOO!” *waves hands in front of me, and I jump back*

Me: “Yes? What can I help you with today?”

Customer: “You know, you really should acknowledge when people speak to you!” *waves his hand in my face again* “Yooo-hooo! Hellooooo! Can you hear me?”

Me: *checks the time and sees that my shift is over, puts the item I’m holding back on the cart I was stocking from* “You know what? F*** this. I’m out of here!” *looks at the customer again* “And you know what? You should acknowledge when people speak to you! Courtesy and listening skills would get you a long d*** way.”

(I go clock out as he storms over to my store manager and starts a very animated conversation with her. I have to walk by them to get to the locker room.)

Manager: *steps back to address me, earning a glare from the customer* “Hey, when’s the last shift before your maternity leave?”

Me: “Oh, it just ended. Sorry, I thought you knew.”

Manager: “No? Hmm.” *to the customer* “Well, she’s on leave, and I don’t want to deal with the paperwork, corporate inquiries, and lawsuits.”

Customer: “FIRE. HER. NOW. Or, I will never shop here again!”

Manager: “Fine, bye! [Competitor] is full of entitled snoots like you, and they’re only half a mile away! You’ll be right at home!” *walks away*

(The manager walks into the break room.)

Manager: “Oh, hey, you’re fired.”

Me: “Ohmygods! The discriminations! Nooooo!” *acts like I’m mortally wounded in a badly comedic way*

Manager: “Okay, you’re hired again.”

Me: “But I already resigned!”

Manager: “…”

Me: “…”

Manager: “Wait, really?”

Me: “Yeah, sorry. Letter’s on your desk. And you already have the staff to replace me from the other store!”

Manager: “So… Oh. Oh, no.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m really moving. Sorry for that ‘no f***s given’ situation there.”

Manager: “Wow. Yeah, well, you’ve done us a huge favor, getting rid of that guy before I had to trespass him! He’s such a nuisance!”

Looks Like She’s Found Her Calling

, , , , , | Working | February 21, 2018

(I’m an organizer for a city council campaign. A new volunteer has come in for the first time and I am training her on how to make phone calls. I sit with her while she makes a few calls, and then ask her how she thinks everything is going. Keep in mind, this is a very sweet woman in at least in her late 70s.)

Volunteer: “You know, every time my husband or I get calls like this we always immediately tell them to f*** right off, but it is a lot of fun being on the other side of them!”

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