Take Care When Leaving A Message

, , , , , | Working | September 12, 2019

(My wife is a hospice chaplain, meaning she works with people at the end of their lives, visiting them in their homes. As many of her clients are elderly, she often has to deal with senility and dementia in the people she works with. One morning, before she leaves for work, I see her make a work call. A man answers the phone.)

Man: *shouting so loudly I can hear him from across the room without speakerphone* “WHAT?! I CAN’T HEAR YOU. LEAVE A MESSAGE!” *click*

Wife: *to me* “He… he just hung up. There was no way to actually leave a message.”

(She calls back.)


(My wife sighs and puts the phone down, then turns back to me.)

Wife: “I’m scheduled to visit them today, and the patient sometimes gets confused. I’m worried about what will happen if I just show up with no warning.”

Me: “Well… is there a caretaker or somebody you can contact to let them know you’re coming?”

Wife: “That was the caretaker!”

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Customers Don’t See Signs, They See Obstacles

, , , , , | Right | September 4, 2019

We have a small tablet on a stand that visitors use to sign in and out at our facility. This system is currently down, so I have people signing in and out on paper in a binder. I have a bright yellow post-it note in the middle of the tablet, saying, “Out of Order. Please use the book to your right.” Simple, right?

Every fifth visitor of the day begins to sign in on the tablet, completely ignoring the note, and acts completely dumbfounded when I point it out.

So, just before I leave for the day, I make a bigger sign that covers the whole screen of the tablet and tape it over the screen.

What do I see when I’m walking out the door? Someone tearing off the paper and attempting to sign in while my coworker looks at me and I look at him and we both do a simultaneous inner facepalm.

I just don’t know where some people misplace their brains.

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It’s A Bad Sign(In)

, , , , | Right | September 2, 2019

(I work at an assisted living facility. We have a sign-in computer at the front desk. A man comes in to visit. We go through the normal pleasantries, although he is a bit short with me.)

Visitor: “Ugh, I can’t get this to work. And there’s a typographical error here.”

Me: *walks around desk* “Here, let’s see if I can help.” *starts helping him with the computer*

Visitor: “You probably don’t care what the error is.”

Me: “Of course I do!”

(I really don’t.)

Visitor: *goes back to the starting screen when we are almost done signing him in* “Here, it’s this. ‘Sign-In’ is an adjective. It shouldn’t have that dash there. Same with ‘Sign-Out.’”

Me: “Oh, okay. I’ll email the company about that.”

(No, I won’t.)

Visitor: *tries signing in again* “You know what? No. I’m not doing this. I’ll skip visiting her. I’ll come back when you have the paper sign-in again.”

Me: “Umm… okay…”

(He walks out the door.)

Me: “That’ll be never, then.”

(I felt sorry for the poor lady he was going to visit. But seriously? Buddy, this whole world is going toward tech solutions. You’re not going to see that paper sign-in any time soon, probably anywhere. Good lord, just suck it up and use the bloody computer!)

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Stupid Heard You, And Stupid Answered

, , , | Right | August 29, 2019

(I’m just about finished with another day at work, with less than an hour to go, and I’m marveling to myself about the lack of stupidity today. I say goodbye to a visitor and she walks towards the doors.)

Visitor: *stands in front of the door, face inches from the glass*

Me: *blinks, watching her, at least ten seconds pass*

Visitor: *looks back over her shoulder at me, confused look on her face*

Me: “It’s… open?” *head-tilt*

Visitor: “Oh…” *very carefully pushes on the door and edges through it to get out* 

(She wasn’t a new visitor. The doors have never been automatic. I think… her brain just shut off for a moment. Seriously, though, never think that you haven’t seen many stupid people that day, because the universe will send you a reminder.)

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Unfiltered Story #160898

, | Unfiltered | August 24, 2019

[I’m sitting at the front desk, typing up the next day’s schedule for the residents. This woman comes up to the desk – her mother is a resident.]

Her: Could you send [maintenance coworker] up to my mother’s room? The toilet’s a mess.

Me: Sure, I’ll radio someone in just a moment as soon I finish this last bit here and print it.

Her: Ok. It’s probably my fault, I mean I made my famous blackberry tart and I know my mother shouldn’t eat that, but she loves it so I gave it to her anyway and then sure enough she had to…[continues on and on and on, etc.]

Me: *mumbling a response every few seconds*

Her: *still going and going and going*

Me: *eye begins twitching as I’m trying to type the last schedule entry and get it done on time which is harder the more she blabs on*

Her: You know, this cab driver is late every time I call him. He should really be on time. What if I had somewhere important to be? Maybe I shouldn’t tip him. He’s being awfully rude, blah blah blah, etc.

[we both see the cab arrive at the same time]

Her: Oh, there he is!

Me: *to self* OH THANK GOD!!! *lays head against desk and fake cries*

Coworker who’s just come around the corner: Was that [woman’s name]? Damn, she talks a lot.

Me: *more crying and headdesking*