It’s Women That Drive The Relationship

, , , , | Romantic | February 20, 2019

(My husband and myself are driving along a dirt road when I notice an odd noise.)

Me: “There’s an odd noise on my side of the car; it’s like something is scraping.”

Husband: “I can’t hear a thing.”

Me: “It’s coming from the passenger side front wheel and it gets louder when you use the brakes.”

Husband: “We are on a dirt road; how would you hear anything? Just your imagination.”

(He won’t listen to me when I keep complaining about the noise for the next couple of weeks; he still can’t hear a thing. We need to get a registration inspection and tune-up done; we always get a mobile mechanic to come to our home.)

Mechanic: “Okay, I just need to duck off and get some new spark plugs. Is there anything else you can think of that might need doing?”

Me: “There’s a noise in the front passenger side wheel.”

Mechanic: “I just took it for a drive and didn’t hear a thing.”

Me: “I keep hearing a scrape coming from there; I think it’s the brakes.”

Mechanic: “Okay, your brakes are well within specifications–” *shows me the printout from the test he performed* “–but if it makes you happy, I’ll take a quick look at them.” *takes the wheel off to examine the pads and disks.* “Oh, my God! You were right about the brakes; the brake pad is so worn that it’s almost metal on metal. How on earth did you hear that?”

(He completes the service and I pay the bill.)

Mechanic: “Oh, if your husband says anything about the extra charge for the brakes, tell him I think his wife has bloody good hearing and that she probably saved his life, because those brakes wouldn’t have lasted a month. I’ll leave you the old pads to prove it.”

(My husband still won’t believe me and tells me that the mechanic was just humouring me because I am a woman and got extra money for nothing. My dad turns up, and my husband shows him the brake pads.)

Husband: “What do you think of these?”

Dad: *gasps* “I’ve never seen such badly worn pads in my life! You’re lucky, because I don’t think they would have lasted two more weeks.”

(That finally shut him up, but it had to come from a man because women don’t know anything about cars.)

They Need Some Serious Help

, , , | Right | February 17, 2019

(I am a customer at my local pet supply shop. They’re currently undergoing renovations to their building, so the aisles are pushed a bit closer together than usual, and a lot of things are out of stock. On my way through the store, I encounter two women blocking access to the aisle I need, both standing with fairly aggressive body language: arms crossed, feet planted, and big scowls on their faces. I excuse myself to get past them to the items I want to buy, and end up lingering a while because the stock is out of order, and I have to dig a bit to find what I want. Despite renovations and disorderly stock, the shop is well-staffed due to it being a weekend. [Employee #1] near me is helping a couple with questions about cat food. Several other employees are walking the floor or working at the registers.)

Employee #2: *approaching the two women blocking the aisle* “G’day, ladies. Can I help you find anything?”

Woman #1: *snorts*

Woman #2: “No, we’re fine.”

Employee #2: “Okay, just let me know if you have any questions!”

(Less than five minutes pass, and the women are still standing in the same spot. I’ve mostly ignored them, because I assumed they were with the couple being helped by [Employee #1], and I’m busy with my own shopping.)

Employee #3: “Good afternoon! Can I help you with anything today?”

Woman #1: *snappishly* “No.”

Woman #2: “We’re fine.”

Employee #3: “Okay! If you need anything, just let us know.”

(Just at the end of this exchange, I’m about ready to check out. I start to excuse myself past the women a second time, as that’s really the only way I can get out of the aisle. Before I can do so, [Employee #1] finishes up with the couple she was helping, and turns to the two women from the next aisle over.)

Employee #1: “Good afternoon! Are you finding everything all right?”

Woman #2: *exaggerated sigh* “FINALLY!”

Woman #1: “We’ve been waiting at least thirty minutes! This is absolutely disgraceful! You’d think your store didn’t care about paying customers, the way we’ve had to wait!”

Employee #1: *looking a bit baffled* “I’m sorry to have made you wai—“

Woman #1: “Don’t natter; just help us, right?”

(They then led her across the store to the aquatic department, where no fewer than two other employees were currently trying to tidy stock. Why they needed someone from the cat and dog food department to show them something in the fish section is beyond me.)

Winning At This Competition

, , , , | Right | February 15, 2019

(A customer has asked me for a particular brand’s item.)

Me: “Sorry, that is [Competitor]’s own brand; we don’t have that.”

Customer: *emphasising as if I’m stupid* “I know it’s [Competitor]’s brand. Where is the [Brand] stuff?”

Me: “This is [Company], not [Competitor]; we don’t have that brand.”

Customer: “I. KNOW. WHERE. I. AM. I’m not asking if you have it; I want to know if they have it?”

Me: “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you that.”

Customer: “What good are you? Why don’t you know?”

Me: “Because I don’t work at [Competitor]; I work here.”

Customer: “Well, can’t you ring them and find out?”

Me: “No, I don’t have their number.”

Customer: “Why not? You should, so you can call them for customers.”

Me: “Because I work for [Company], and not for our competitor.”

Customer: “So, you are going to make me drive all the way over there?” *it’s fifteen minutes away* “I won’t be very happy if they don’t have it. I’ll be calling your superiors if you’ve wasted my time.” *storms out*

(I call after her, as by this time I don’t give a s***:)

Me: “I can give you that number.”

Their Mistake Covers Multiple Locations

, , , , , | Right | February 13, 2019

(I am at work when a coworker with a customer right behind her comes up to me.)

Coworker: “[My Name], this customer said that you put [item we don’t have] away for her yesterday. Where is it?”

Me: “No, it wasn’t me; I wasn’t here yesterday.”

Customer: *yelling at me* “I KNOW IT WAS YOU BECAUSE I WROTE DOWN YOUR NAME!”

Me: “It wasn’t me. I wasn’t here and we sold out on that product last week.”

Customer: “IT WAS YOU! YOU’RE LYING. YOU’VE WASTED MY TIME! YOU SHOULD HAVE REMEMBERED ME!”

Me: “No, honestly, I wasn’t here yesterday and I’ve never seen you before.”

Customer: “WELL, SOMEONE HERE HAS IMPERSONATED YOU THEN! THEY GAVE ME YOUR NAME WHEN I RANG UP YESTERDAY!”

Me: “You rang up? Oh, I think I know what happened. I’ll just check for you.” *picks up the phone and makes a call* “Hello. May I speak to [My Name], please?”  

(After I finish speaking with a coworker from a different location I turn to the customer.)

Me: “It appears that you called [Other Location] store and spoke to [My Name] there; she has your item over there.”

Customer: “I didn’t call [Other Location]! I called here! I got the number from the catalogue; I’ll show you.” *grabs catalogue and points to the number*

Me: “Sorry, but that’s [Other Location], we are [Our Location], the next store down. I can get the item sent here but it will take a few days.”

Customer: “A few days? I have to have it today. How in the h*** am I going to get it now?”

Me: “The only way is to go there yourself. It’s about half an hour away.”

Customer: “What? I have to go there myself just because I got the wrong store?” *storms out*

Unfiltered Story #139534

, | Unfiltered | February 13, 2019

(I work in a store that sells PVC table covers by the metre. Because they are heavy they are kept on a rack with it’s own cutter. A lady has asked me for three metres; I start pulling the PVC off the roll. We have a mark that shows a metre measurement but I usually check the measurement with a tape measure. Each time, I bend down while pulling the PVC down to the metre mark, but as I stand back up I notice the customer pulls the PVC herself, adding more to my measurement. Three times I pull, three times she pulls.)

 

Me: “It was just three metres you wanted?”

 

Customer: “Yes, three metres.”

 

(Wordlessly I pull out a tape measure and measure the three metres, rolling the extra metre and a half she’s managed to pull out herself back on to the roll before cutting the piece.)

Me: “There you go three metres.”

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