Treating You Like Dogs

, , , | Right | February 8, 2019

(I work at an Alaska-only pet store in a relatively small town; however, since we’re right next to Anchorage, we get a lot of customer flow. Our customers are, for the most part, relatively chill, but some can be quite demanding for no real reason. On this particular day I’m stocking dog food and not really willing to deal with nonsense.)

Me: *stops stocking to acknowledge a customer who happens to be on her phone* “Hello…”

Customer: *cuts me off* “Do you work here?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: *phone in one hand, dog leash in the other, kicks a bag of dog food* “I want this dog food.”

Me: “Okay, and you can’t get it because you’re on the phone?”

(Keep in mind I have no problem getting dog food for people who have undergone surgery or are just too old or weak to handle it. We do it every day as a courtesy. However, we are not required to lug food around for fully-capable people.)

Customer: *looks at me and laughs like she can’t believe I asked such a question* “Well, no. I mean, yes, but I’m telling you to.”

Me: *raises my eyebrow* “Righhhht.” *starts to grab food*

(At that point, the customer realized I was not really happy about stopping what I was doing just because she was lazy, so she told me to forget it and asked for my name and walked away. Of course, she went to complain, and when my team lead came to me, apparently I had “refused” to get her the food and said, “You have two hands; get it yourself.” She even said, “I’ve worked retail before, and that’s just not something you do.” I also learned that she smelled like alcohol that I couldn’t smell due to a sickness I’m getting over. To be honest, if she had at least said, “please,” then I probably would’ve gotten it, but I guess that was too much for her to do.)

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Sent A Stinging Note

, , , , , , , | Healthy | February 6, 2019

My grandmother was a teacher at one of the nearby elementary schools, and at the time she was teaching in this old, wooden building which was located where the playground is now. One day, as she was teaching, a wasp flew in. My grandmother was deathly allergic to wasp stings, so she freaked out, screaming and diving under her desk to avoid it. She ended up writing a note and sent it with a student to the janitor.

The note read, “There’s a wasp in here, and I’m allergic. Come get it!”

The student came back with a reply on the other side of the paper that read, “I know how you feel.”

One of her students killed the wasp for her.

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You Don’t Get Swagger For Arguing With A Bagger

, , , , | Right | January 31, 2019

(I work at a popular chain grocery store as a bagger. Most people that come in are fine with plastic bags, or they bring their own, but some people request paper. On this day, a customer comes up and immediately requests paper, to which I oblige. Due to the size of a cereal box that comes through, which is one of the larger ones, I have to put it in sideways, leaving half the bag for the chips, but it’s narrow. I start trying to get the chips in, without squishing them. The customer stares at me while I do this.)

Customer: *mockingly* “Is it really that hard to put chips in a bag?”

Me: “Well, sir, I’m trying to make sure they don’t get squished.”

Customer: “It’s not that hard.”

(By this point I’ve gotten them in, with very little squish-age. He then quickly grabs it and walks away, glaring at me as he goes. My coworker, who was checking, looks at me after he leaves.)

Coworker: “You have to seriously be bored to come into a store just to antagonize a bagger.”

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Bang Bang, They Shot That Down

, , , , , | Related | January 18, 2019

As my grandfather, Bill, had just passed three days earlier, my sister, her husband and I pack in a car for a six-hour drive.

I’m listening to my music and my sister waves to get my attention. She and her husband were talking and her husband had said that my grandmother and all of us should watch Kill Bill.

Took him a second before he realized what he said.

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Strange Customers In Your Salad Days

, , , , , | Right | January 18, 2019

(I work at a relatively well-known chain restaurant. My friend — who is Hispanic but speaks fluent English — is the hostess for the night. At this job, the hostesses also take the to-go orders, fix the side stuff for the to-go orders, make sure the orders come out correctly, and check the customers out. Basically, they take care of any to-go order transactions from start to finish. The phone rings and my friend answers it, and I can tell she is taking a to go-order. I hear her repeat herself several times until she gives me a befuddled look, and I go up front to try to see if I can help. I then take the phone from her to see if I can have more luck.)

Me: “Yes, sir, this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I was trying to order a salad, but I couldn’t understand that little Mexican girl.”

(I’m a bit confounded, as she hardly has an accent at all, and it’s pretty offensive to refer to her as “little” or “Mexican.”)

Me: *still trying to be polite* “I’m sorry about that, sir. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “I would like your large house salad, with fried chicken added, with [dressing].”

Me: “Okay, one fried chicken salad with dressing. Would you like anything else?”

Customer: “No! That’s not what I said! I want your large house salad, with fried chicken added!”

Me: “Yes, sir, that is a fried chicken salad.”

Customer: “No! I don’t want that. What is so hard to understand?! I want a salad with lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, croutons, and onions, and I want fried chicken added to it.”

Me: “Yes, sir, that’s what the fried chicken salad is.”

Customer: “But I don’t want a fried chicken salad! I want the large house salad with fried chicken added!”

Me: “Okay, sir. So, that’s one large house salad with fried chicken added with [dressing]. Will that be all for you?”

Customer: *being very rude* “Yes! FINALLY. Thank you!”

(I then ring the order into the computer as a fried chicken salad, as that’s what it is. My friend and I are laughing for a minute at the insanity of it when the phone rings again. I am closer so I go to answer it.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I called a large salad in, with fried chicken added, about five minutes ago.”

Me: “Yes, sir, and what can I do for you?”

Customer: “Cancel my order. I’ve just been in a wreck.” *click*

(My coworker and I sat baffled the rest of the night by the fact that immediately after a collision, his biggest concern was to call and cancel his salad.)

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