The Universe Pays A-Ten-tion

, , , | Hopeless | August 3, 2018

(I’m waiting for my train when a woman with her two kids approaches me:)

Woman: “I’m so sorry to ask this, but I’ve lost my wallet and I need to get my kids home. Do you have any cash that I can borrow to cover the fare? I can get your details and I’ll pay you back. I’m so sorry.”

(The train that I need to catch is approaching.)

Me: *hands her $10* “Here. This should cover it.”

Woman: “Thank you. Let me get your number—”

Me: *gets on train* “Don’t worry about it. Have a good night!”

(Fast forward to three days later. I’m in a different part of town, walking to work at about 7:00 am. A car drives past me, slows down, and then pulls over to the side of the road. The woman from the train station steps out.)

Woman: “Hi! I just noticed you’re the girl from the other day at the train. I’ve only got coins; is this okay?”

(She handed me $10 in coins. I actually couldn’t believe it. The universe works in weird but wonderful ways!)

A Surcharge Barrage

, , , | Right | August 3, 2018

(In my country, not all stores accept Amex — American Express. One evening a middle-aged woman and her daughter are shopping, and at the counter she takes out her card.)

Customer: “Can I use Amex?”

Me: “Sure, but there’s a 2% surcharge.”

Customer: “That’s fine.”

(Most customers flinch a bit, or outright say they’ll use another card, but some do still use Amex despite the surcharge. Because of her words and tone, I assume that she means what she said, so I don’t notice her switching her cards as I bag up her items and wish her a good night. Ten minutes later, I find her hovering at the front, face like thunder, holding her receipt. I approach her and ask her if everything’s all right.)

Customer: *coldly shoving her receipt in my face* “Care to tell me why you processed that sale as an Amex when I explicitly told you I was using Visa? I want the surcharge refunded!”

(It’s less than a dollar. I’ve only got about a year’s retail experience under my belt, so I take one look at her expression and decide I am not nearly battle-hardened enough to deal with the fury she clearly wants to unleash upon me.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, I made a mistake. I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to refund that to you with our system, but I’ll ask my manager and find out for you.”

(I find my manager. When I explain the situation, and the surcharge amount, the customer starts acting very sheepish.)

Customer: “It’s just the principle of the thing…”

(For the next ten minutes, as my wonderful manager attempts to find a way to refund the surcharge, the customer mutters that line over and over. Eventually my manager finds a way to refund the surcharge, and the customer leaves, still sheepishly muttering her line.)

Manager: “Wow.”

The Language Of Disrespect

, , , , , , , | Working | August 3, 2018

(I’m a Caucasian woman, but as my stepfather is Indian, I speak fluent Punjabi. I regularly catch taxis for work, which are charged to a work account. I book a taxi four hours before I want to travel. The taxi is thirty-five minutes late. When I get in, the driver is on the phone through bluetooth — which runs through the radio — talking in Punjabi. He offers no explanation on why he is late. I give my destination, which he doesn’t comment on; he just keeps on talking, but starts driving. As the trip progresses, he is still on his phone commenting, among other things, about me.)

Driver: *in Punjabi* “I’m taking a b**** to [Destination], then I’ll get lunch.”

(I decide to record the conversation on my phone and start taking down his license number and the taxi number.)

Driver: *in English* “What are you doing?”

Me: “Just writing some notes for my meeting. Are you going to spend the whole trip on the phone? It’s incredibly rude and unprofessional, and it is giving me a headache.”

Driver: *in Punjabi* “This stupid, white b**** wants me off the phone. I’ll take her the long way and make her pay. I’ll call you back once I drop the [insult] off.”

Driver: *in English* “I was talking to my brother. We have many taxis and are coordinating our drivers. I’m trying to make a living here.”

Me: “If you have many drivers, why were you thirty-five minutes late? And I fully understand you’re trying to make a living, but if I turned up over half an hour late without so much as an apology or explanation, completely ignored the client, and then spent fifteen minutes on the phone, I wouldn’t have my job.”

(He looks at me angrily, but says nothing and continues driving. When his phone rings again…)

Driver: *in English* “This is my wife. It could be an emergency.”

Me: *giving him the benefit of the doubt* “Fine, but please make it quick.”

Driver: *in Punjabi* “Hi, sorry, I’ve got some white [insult] who thinks she’s too good and doesn’t want me on the phone. A man needs to teach the b**** a lesson.”

Me: *in Punjabi* “Pull over, now! I’ve had enough. I’ll be making a complaint and making sure my boss does, too.”

Driver: *in Punjabi* “You understand?”

Me: *still in perfect Punjabi* “Yes, I do. Now pull over.”

(The driver pulls over and stops the metre.)

Driver: “Okay, that’s [amount way higher than the metre].”

Me: “Seriously? One, it’s on an account. Two, that’s not what the metre showed, and three, after what just happened, you expect me to pay?”

Driver: *now really angry, locks the door* “You discriminate against me. Pay the fare; otherwise, I’ll call the police.”

Me: “Call the police. You’re holding me against my will. Plus, it should all be recorded.” *I point to a mandatory camera that by law should record audio and video* “I think they would be interested in what has happened.”

(He unlocked the door. I quickly got out and he took off. I called my boss to explain what had happened. My boss sent a coworker to get me. I filed a complaint with the cops and the taxi company. It turns out he was already under investigation for similar incidents and for not having the camera hooked up. He tried to say I had offered him sex in return for a free ride, then called him racist slurs and threatened to kill him. Luckily, I had enough of the trip recorded on my phone. He was charged with numerous offenses, including holding me against my will.)

Unfiltered Story #117807

, | Unfiltered | August 2, 2018

I am a puzzeled and angry spectator customer in this story.

Was at the supermarket getting some items last night. The entire time I was there (About 10 min), you could hear this kid screaming “I want this, I want that, That is mine, Give that to me etc” He was about 5 or 6 years old, and most of the time his sightly older brother was hitting him and taking opened items off him and putting them up on shelves out of his reach. The little brat’s mother was ignoring him for the entire time. She was pregnant, pushing a pram and had a 3 or 4 year old in the trolley crying as well. Other than the total lack of care for the items her little brat was destroying in the store, I was amazed that the staff were doing nothing. It must be sad that they are so used to kids not being controled that they do not see it anymore.

What A Diabeetus, Part 7

, , , , , , | Right | August 1, 2018

(I work as a supervisor in a kiosk at a sporting complex. This happens during our rush when I am at the other end of the kiosk. I have had type 1 diabetes since I was two, for eighteen years now.)

Customer: “I would like to talk to the supervisor.”

(I turn and see [Coworker #1] waving me down.)

Me: “Sir, I am the supervisor here; what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Do you have any drinks that are sugar-free? I’m diabetic and I can’t have sugary drinks.”

Me: “We have Coke Zero, Diet Coke, and water, sir.”

Customer: “Nothing else?”

Me: “I’m afraid not, sir.”

Customer: “You should have other sugar-free drinks! This is discrimination against me; you’re discriminating against diabetics.”

Me: “Sir, I can assu—”

Customer: *cutting me off* “Do you know what it’s like to have diabetes?”

(He launches into a rant of rhetorical questions about having diabetes. It lasts a couple of minutes, drawing the attention of everyone in line. I haven’t been able to get a word in since he started, but I can’t serve the queue until he is finished. So, I wait for him to take a breath.)

Customer: “And you don’t know what it’s like to have diabetes. I’ve had it for five years; I deserve some respect for that, but no, there are no sugar-free drinks because you don’t know.”

Me: *with a slightly raised voice* “I’ve had it for eighteen years.”

(He freezes, and it’s like the entire queue holds its breath as I smile and continue.)

Me: “Now, is there anything I can help you with today, sir?”

(He shakes his head, looking meek.)

Me: “Very well. The register is right behind you, and I hope you enjoy the game.”

What A Diabeetus, Part 6
What A Diabeetus, Part 5
What A Diabeetus, Part 4


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