Gonna Put Them Down As Slightly Against It

, , , , | Right | October 5, 2018

(I work at a market research centre where we call people and do surveys. At the moment we’re doing ones on behalf of the local government about nuclear energy. It’s a pretty touchy topic with some people, as it’s about storing nuclear waste.)

Me: “Hi. My name is [My Name] from [Company]. The local government has commissioned us to get the views and opinions of the public on the nuclear industry. Would you be able to share your opinions?”

Resident: “No, I will f****** well not! I am totally against the government wasting their money to pay you to call us up to ask stupid questions! They should be spending that money on more health care for us!”

(At this stage, I go, “Thank you very much, then. Bye,” and hang up, but I am near the end of my tether.)

Me: “Sir, it’s just getting your opinions on the nuclear industry—”

Resident: “Well, I don’t f****** agree with it! They’re going to put it on our land and not even bother consulting us about it!”

Me: “Sir, that is the purpose of these surveys—”

Resident: “Oh, I don’t need a f****** high and mighty university student telling me what to do! A waste of f****** money, you are. You want to hear my opinion? The nuclear industry is a crock of s*** and they should be consulting with us! That’s my opinion! Tell the government that!”

Me: “Sir, if you don’t do the survey, then your opinion in this matter doesn’t count because I have no way to record it. And also, by doing these surveys, the government is trying to consult with you.”

Resident: “It f****** well better count! I have rights and I will be heard! The f****** government should get its head out of its a** and give more funding to us, ‘cause we need it more! And stop paying stuck up b****es like you to call us up for f****** surveys or whatever.”

Me: “Once again, your opinion does not matter since you’re refusing to take part in the survey. I’ve had enough of you. Good day.”

(I could hear him start to violently protest when I hung up. I’m glad I don’t work for commission and know I have the right to hang up if I wish.)

Coded Incorrectly

, , , | Right | October 5, 2018

(I work on the checkouts of my local supermarket. Our return policy isn’t strictly enforced because it’s mainly regulars that have accidentally picked up the wrong item or have a broken item. A man I’ve never seen before approaches my checkout with a frozen item, and after I finish serving another customer, I approach him.)

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “I bought the wrong frozen pastry.

Me: “Okay, did you have the receipt with you?”

Customer: “No, but if you scan the barcode it will tell you when I bought it.”

(I’m dumbfounded. That is not how barcodes work, and I try to explain that to him. As I am doing so there is a line forming at my checkout. The man calls his partner, who obviously sent him up to get the right product.)

Customer: *on the phone, as I’m serving the surge of new customers* “She says that’s not how barcodes work…”

(It was obvious that his partner was arguing with him, telling him that I was wrong. In the end I did not put the refund through and I haven’t seen him since.)

Insert True Feelings About Bad Customers Here

, , , , , | Right | October 2, 2018

(I’ve just finished ringing up a sale. The customer is paying by card. Credit cards need to be inserted into a slot, while savings cards need to be swiped; every shop is the same. I’ve had another customer trying to butt in and am trying to finish the transaction even though they are trying to distract me.)

Me: “Could you please swipe your card?”

Customer: *swipes his card, the machine states it needs to be inserted* “It’s telling me to insert it.”

Me: “Oh, sorry. Just insert it, please. I didn’t notice that it was a credit card.”


Something Off About That Comment But I Can’t Put My Finger On It

, , , , | Right | October 1, 2018

(We’ve recently started up a finger-scanning process to replace our security codes on our registers. It’s still new, and everyone, including customers, are adjusting to it; to give discounts, the manager needs to scan their print. A regular has ordered his usual and gets a discount on his order using his senior card.)

Customer: “Oh, I need a senior discount, as well, please.”

Me: “All good. Just a sec.” *calls out* “[Manager], can I get senior, please?”

(She is finishing off a burger, and things are busy, so she runs over to press her print and runs off again. The customer notices the scanning and leans in close.)

Customer: “You know how you can fix that?”

Me: “How?”

Customer: “Cut her finger off.”

(He pulled away casually and paid for his meal like nothing had happened, leaving me bewildered.)

Ihely The Eighth

, , , , , , , | Learning | September 30, 2018

(I live in Australia. My ninth-grade history class is doing a task involving presenting a replica artifact to a seventh-grader, who fills out a sheet with a couple of questions about it. A pair of girls — both white, so I’d assume they’d be familiar with Western name structure — come up to me and my friend. While he’s stuck with a girl who doesn’t know the meaning of law, I get this one. The first thing to fill out on the sheet is the name of the ninth-grader they’re talking to.)

Girl: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Henry.”

Girl: “Can you spell that?”

Me: “Uh… H-E-N-R-Y.”

(She wrote, “I-H-E-L-Y.”)

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