Unfiltered Story #181211

, , | Unfiltered | January 3, 2020

I do the exchanges at a local retail store.

A woman came inside with a pair of boots she’d purchased weeks ago. She’d ‘accidentally’ purchased a pair that was too small and asked if I did returns.

I was in the process of explaining that I could exchange the boots, but I needed the pair she brought in with her as well as the receipt.
The woman turned her back to me mid-explanation and ran to the boot isle. (With the old boots and receipt)

Minutes later the door alarms go off and I glance up to see that the woman has two large boot boxes in her hands.
She’s been pulled aside by security.

Woman- “THAT GIRL OVER THERE SAID THAT I COULD HAVE THIS PAIR OF BOOTS BECAUSE THE OTHER ONES ARE TOO SMALL!”
Me – “Ma’am you’ll have to wait in line with your shoes to make a return. Just stand in line here. Wait here maam”

After five minutes of standing in line she tells the three customers ahead of her, “this is the returns register and she told me to come to the front.”

She was so mad and insisted that I had cheated her. I apologized and explained that she could have either the larger size or the pair she purchased originally, but not both for the price of one

They Own The Building And Your Lives

, , , , | Friendly | December 27, 2019

(My family and I are at a parade, walking in an area blocked off from cars. We see a car turn in so I grab my youngest sister and she gets mad.)

Me: *loud enough for the driver to hear* “Sorry, sis, someone is turning in where they aren’t supposed to. I had to get you out of the road.”

Driver: “Well, I own this building! And I have permission to be here. Because I own this building!”

Mom: “But that doesn’t give you the right to run over whoever you want.”

Driver: “I was just trying to get to my building that I own!’

Dad: “At the expense of my family?”

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Do Secret Santa, They Said. It’ll Be Fun, They Said.

, , , , , , | Working | December 23, 2019

I’ve spent the better part of three weeks organizing what should have been a fun and simple Secret Santa for my department at work. It’s been a pain from the word “go.” We set a maximum of $30 and a minimum of $20.

First, one of the kids in my department recommends a website he says his family uses every year. The thing with this website is that you have to have an email address or phone number to invite people and I don’t have everyone’s number. So, I use their work emails, but the firewalls in place prevent them from receiving the emails.

Second, my supervisor spends the entire three weeks arguing with everyone about the location one of the girls recommended, but won’t make an actual decision about where she does want to go; all she’ll say is that she wants to be able to have a drink.

Third, the day before, one girl says she won’t be there, two more say they’ll be late because of a family event, and still another says she’ll be out of town. This isn’t even to mention the ones who back out day-of.

Finally, the day of the exchange arrives and three members of our department not only don’t show, but won’t answer their phones. My supervisor stands at the head of the table and whines about how she’s worked so hard to put this together and she’s so offended by the ones who didn’t show up. My eyes are about bugging out of my head because the literal most she did was suggest the restaurant we were visiting at the last minute. In fact, she had someone else buy the Secret Santa gift for her.

I keep my peace because I need my job. But, I spent $29.87 on my SS because I know what she likes. I can tell most of the others maybe spent $20, max. The girl who drew my name is one of the ones who didn’t bother to show. A week later, she hands me a gift bag with the biggest grin on her face. I open it to find a small beading set for making earrings with and I think, “Oh, she’s noticed I make most of my own jewelry. Never mind I don’t use beads; this is almost thoughtful.”

It turns out that set cost her $8, less than half of the agreed-upon minimum, which was set in order to prevent bad gifting of precisely that nature.

I’m mad enough to spit.

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The Power Of Politeness  

, , , , , | Right | December 12, 2019

(I work a summer internship at a local electric cooperative. One afternoon, I’m working the front desk when several of our power lines go down. This leads to about an hour of people calling to report outages and ask how long they’ll be out of power. It’s busy enough that every time we finish a call, the phone immediately rings again. Sometime in the middle, I get a call from an older gentleman. I give the standard greeting.)

Customer: “Hello, how are you?”

(I’m surprised enough that it takes me a couple of seconds to respond.)

Me: “I’m doing all right, how are you?”

Customer: “Good, thank you.”

(He reported his outage, staying pleasant even when I told him I didn’t know how long power would be out. It’s been over a year, and I still smile thinking about it. A little politeness can go a long way!)

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Will Not Tip-Toe Around Mother

, , , , , , | Right | December 2, 2019

I’ve spent nearly ten years working at a popular gas station in my city, and I’ve gotten to know many customers in that time. One girl, only a few years younger than me, comes in several times a week and we always chat if I have the time. I learn that she is a waitress at my favorite restaurant, though I’ve never been in while she was working; she works evenings, and I only go in mornings or mid-afternoons.

She always laughs and tells me to come by when she is working and sit in her section so she can have one stress-free table for once, and I tell her that as soon as I feel like leaving my house at night, I will. 

A couple of months later, in January, we have our massive birthday celebration for the seven family members who have birthdays all within a couple of weeks of each other. We go to a restaurant that I’ve never been in before, and my mother proceeds to make a fuss over everything to the poor waitress.

The waitress gets our drinks but gives a few to the wrong people, and our food has to come out in waves because we are a table of nearly thirty. When my mom threatens to not tip if the waitress doesn’t “get her act together,” I slam my drink down, stand, throw my napkin onto her plate, and storm out, making her chase me down.

I explain to her that she’s ruined my portion of the celebration and I’m not going to speak to her for a long time after this. She understands she’s screwed up and offers to take me to my favorite restaurant that evening. It’s pretty expensive, but she promises to pay for everything and tip well. I accept.

We get seated, and when the waitress comes for our drink order, it’s my customer! She is thrilled to finally have me as a customer, and she goes above and beyond. It’s a good evening all around, much better than earlier, and when she comes to ask if we want dessert, I turn it down. As she begins to collect plates, it comes up that it’s my birthday. When she comes back with our ticket, there’s a takeout container that she gives to me. It’s a slice of my favorite dessert! She paid for it out of her tip money as a birthday present for me.

It really made up for earlier.

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