It Would Be Breast For You To Leave

, , , | Right | February 17, 2021

The bar where I work is open to all ages until 5:30 pm when we become an eighteen-plus venue. This occurs at 6:30 pm after all the signs have been put out stating that no minors are allowed access. A customer walks in carrying a small baby and her husband is pushing a pram. I am the manager of the bar. I’m twenty-two and female but I’m quite short and often get mistaken for being much younger.

Me: “Sorry, but you can’t have a child in here after 5:30.”

Customer: “I’m breastfeeding.”

Me: “That’s lovely, but unfortunately, club policy is that no minors are allowed in this area after 5:30 pm.”

Customer: *Suddenly irate* “You can’t discriminate against a breastfeeding mother. It’s against the law.”

Me: “I’m not discriminating against you. It’s also against the law to allow a minor in this area after 5:30 pm.”

Customer: “I demand to speak to the manager! This is discrimination! I’ll have your job!”

Me: “I am the manager, and unfortunately, you still can’t have a minor in here.”

Customer: “I want to speak to a real manager, not a little girl.”

Me: “You can talk to the general manager of the other sections of the club. He will tell you that for this area, you need to speak to me but that the 5:30 pm rule still applies.”

Customer: *Finally leaving, still screaming* “I’ll have your job! You can’t discriminate against breastfeeding mothers! I’m calling the police and leaving a terrible review of this place! I hope you enjoy your fines for breaking the law!”

She screamed at other entering customers that we were all breaking the law and discriminating against her all the way out. She never called the police or left a review, but I told all the other staff about this incident and now it’s a little inside joke between us all that breastfeeding babies don’t count as minors.

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Boys’ Clothes Are Harder Because They Get To Have Pockets

, , , | Related | February 16, 2021

My hobby is sewing. I love it so much that I have taken a full dressmaking course. My elder sister decided that she would get our grandmother to teach her. My sister is the type of person who always thinks they know everything. She is showing me some T-shirts she has made for her daughters. I notice a problem with some shoddy work and ask if our grandmother taught her to do it that way; she was a professional seamstress so she should have known the correct way.

Me: “Did Nanna tell you to do it like that?”

Sister: “No, she showed me how to do it [the correct way], but I decided that she was wrong so did it the way I knew was right.”

Me: “Well, you were wrong and Nanna was right. Have you made anything for [Nephew]?”

Sister: “No, boys’ clothes are too hard to make.”

Me: “No, they’re not. You can even use the same pattern for the T-shirt; just change the colour for a boy. He’s going to feel left out if you don’t.”

Sister: “Everyone knows that boys’ clothes are too hard. Anyway, he’s never going to notice.”

The next day, my five-year-old nephew gets up in front of his class to recite some news about himself.

Nephew: “My mum does sewing. She makes stuff for [Elder Sister], she makes stuff for [Younger Sister], but she don’t make nothing for me”

I felt sorry for him so I made him a T-shirt and shorts set.

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Not A Minor Misunderstanding

, , , , | Right | February 13, 2021

We are an all-ages venue until 5:30 pm when we become an over-eighteen area. This occurs at 9:00 pm after all our “No minors past this point” signs are out. A man walks in with his two-year-old daughter.

Me: “Sorry, sir, this area is strictly eighteen and up after 5:30 pm.”

Man: “But she’s two.”

Me: “Yes, that means she can’t be in here after 5:30 pm. She’s a minor.”

Man: “But she’s two; she’s not a minor. Minors are people aged fourteen to seventeen, not two.”

Me: “Minors are anyone aged less than eighteen years.”

Man: *Very condescendingly* “No, little girl, minors are people aged fourteen to seventeen. She can be in here after 5:30 pm because she’s not. A. Minor.”

I point to a sign above the bar that states that no one under eighteen can be in the venue after 5:30 pm.

Man: “I’ll leave, but I’ll be telling your bosses that they need to teach their staff what a minor is! I can’t believe you think that my two-year-old is a minor! How stupid can you be?”

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Does “Closed” Have No Meaning For ANYONE?

, , , , , , | Working | February 12, 2021

I’m about seventeen or eighteen and have just started my first “real” job in a supermarket deli. I have not yet experienced any rude or entitled customers. We have a sign-in and sign-out sheet in the deli as well as a machine in the employee break room to clock in and out; we are expected to use both. It is 10:00 pm and everything is shut down and closed; I go to sign out on the sign-out sheet but there isn’t a pen. No worries, I think to myself. I’ll go clock out, borrow a pen from the break room, and come back to sign the sheet. 

I come back and see a well-dressed customer standing in front of the deli counter, looking expectantly at me as I come through the deli gate. My hair is down, I have no apron or hat, and my handbag is slung over my shoulder. The lights in every deli case are off, half of our stock has been put away in the back room and everything else — the products, the slicers, you name it — is covered in large plastic sheets. By every indication, the deli has shut for the night.

Me: *Cheerfully* “Hi, just letting you know we are closed tonight! I’m just—”

Customer: “No, you’re not.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but the customer’s response comes from so far out of left field that I am honestly taken aback for a moment.

Me: “Er…”

Customer: “Are you not going to serve me?”

Me: “Um, I’ve already clocked off. It’s past 10:00. The deli closes at 10:00 pm—”

Customer: *Firmly* “No, it doesn’t. It closes when the rest of the store closes.”

I stare at him for a moment, not sure how to proceed with his complete denial. I open my mouth to suggest calling a manager over, but he beats me to it.

Customer: “I see how it is. That’s fine; I’ll go get your manager.”

Frowning, I go to the drawer to sign the sheet. As I’m leaving, the customer comes back with one of the night managers in tow. The customer complains to the manager that I won’t serve him, and the manager goes behind the counter, lifts the plastic sheet off the slicer I just spent twenty minutes cleaning, and starts slicing the customer’s ham for him.

Me: *Quietly, to the manager* “Just for future reference, can you tell me what the protocol is when a customer asks for something after the deli is closed and the usual deli workers are clocked out? Do you come into the deli to serve the late-night customers? Do you also clean the slicer afterward? Because [Deli Manager] gets upset when things aren’t clean in the morning.”

Manager: “Don’t worry about it.”

Me: “Well, I need to know because if this happens again, I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. Is what you’re doing now standard procedure here?”

The manager just waves a hand dismissively.

I see I’m not going to get an answer, so I give up and go to walk away. The customer stops me on my way out and asks for my name. Without thinking, I give it to him. Like I said, this is my first Not Always Right customer in my first-ever job; I am not very smart yet. 

Customer: “Okay, [My Name]. I work for [My Supermarket] and I’m going to see what the head office thinks about your work ethic.”

I never got a proper answer — from anyone — on what store policy was if a customer wanted deli products after the deli was closed. Thankfully, there were no repeat incidents where the issue came up again, and I also never heard anything from that customer. I have no idea if he actually contacted anyone or not. But thanks to his parting words, I did spend a good few days anxiously stressing that I’d lost my job almost as soon as it had begun. What a jerk.

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Warning: Human Interaction Imminent

, , , , , , , | Working | February 12, 2021

My Internet service provider’s tech support line intersperses awful hold music with tips and comments, which it regularly interrupts mid-stream to update you with your place in the queue. One such tip, about increased call waiting times due to the health crisis, starts with “Unfortunately…”

Timing is everything. I just got told, “Unfortunately— You are next in the queue.”

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