Stand Up For Their Need To Sit Down

, , , , | Friendly | July 20, 2018

(I buy a new screen for my PC and then find a free seat on the subway to sit down, holding the package vertically on my lap. The subway fills up quickly, until an older lady stands beside me with no place to sit down. Despite the weight of the screen, I offer her the seat and try to stand up… when suddenly she slaps the top of the package and forces me back into the seat. Startled, I look at her for a second, until she says:)

Woman: “I’m not that old to be offered a seat; don’t you dare to stand up. Wait at least ten years to try that again.”

(Well… Okay, then.)

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Has An Imaginary Chip On His Shoulder

, , | Right | June 27, 2018

(I work at an electronics store, selling household appliances. A customer walks in with his wife and son, interested in buying a washing machine. This happens after discussing the technical details.)

Customer: “Does this washing machine have one of those built-in chips that makes it break after the warranty has expired?”

Me: “I wouldn’t know about that, sir, but I highly doubt it.”

Customer: “Oh, really?”

(He gives me this smile, as if he just caught me in a lie.)

Me: “Well, if you are worried about that, you could buy the extended warranty.”

Customer: “Oh, no, that’s fine. I know how to remove that chip. Can you tell me what kind of metal the outside of the washing machine is made of?”

Me: “I don’t know, sir. If you would like, I can give you the phone number of the company that manufactured it.”

Customer: “No, thank you. I’ll just check myself.”

(At this point, the customer leans on top of the washing machine, arms hanging down on the sides. He starts tapping the side of washing machine and hums softly.)

Customer: “I can tell the material by how it resonates with my voice.”

(His wife and I stood there in awkward silence for a little while, as she gave me this “I’m so sorry” look.)

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Cultural Stereotypes Are On The Menu

, , , , , | Working | March 8, 2018

My family and I are visiting Europe and Armenia over summer, and while in Vienna, we stop for dinner at a tavern. The waiter brings us the German menu, which is about the size of a ruler, but folds out. The German shouldn’t be a problem since my sister and I both speak German, but since we both learned high German, the menu in Austrian German makes less sense.

We ask the waiter for an English menu, and he goes off to get one. He comes back a few seconds later with a huge menu, complete with pictures and descriptions. We all burst out laughing as the waiter walks off.

I guess they do think Americans are stupid.

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Internet Screaming Provider

, , , , , | Working | October 15, 2017

(We hire a bunch of college kids to fill in during the summertime when people are on vacation. It isn’t that big a deal; they just have to run down the script, and if that doesn’t take care of the problem, they transfer the customer to the next level. One of the guys is something special. He is studying computer science and he, “doesn’t need no script to help people.” I am eager to put that to the test. I create an outage report for a customer area in our training system and create a customer in that area that I can be. Then, I am able to live every support tech’s dream: I can be the a**hole customer to a smart-a** know-it-all.)

New Guy: “Welcome to [ISP] Tech Support. My name—”

Me: *yelling* “DON’T GIVE ME THAT CRAP; MY INTERNET ISN’T WORKING!”

New Guy: “Yes, what lights are on on your router?”

Me: *louder* “Don’t talk that technobabble with me, sonny. Fix my Internet!”

New Guy: “I can only help you if you tell me—”

Me: *even louder* “Sonny, listen: you fix my Internet or you’ll be sorry!”

New Guy: “So, what lights are on?”

Me: “Huh? One is on and one is flashing every now and then.”

New Guy: “Ah, yes, so we’re getting a signal.”

Me: “I DON’T WANT NO STUPID SIGNAL; I WANT MY INTERNET!”

(By now, the floor outside is filling with coworkers who want to see what the commotion is about.)

New Guy: “Could you reboot the router for me?”

Me: *huffing* “Fine!” *rebooting PC* “What now?”

New Guy: “No, not the computer, the—”

Me: *back to yelling* “What did I tell you before? Don’t do that technobabble with me; just fix my d*** Internet!”

(I let him suffer for another minute, and since I’m getting kinda hoarse from yelling constantly, I eventually take him off the hook, not without him muttering that “nobody can help that stupid git.” He hands the headset to a female coworker.)

Coworker: “Welcome to [ISP] Tech Support. This—”

Me: *yelling* “MY INTERNET ISN’T WORKING!”

Coworker: “Yes, sir, may I have your name?”

Me: “[Fake Name]! NOW FIX MY INTERNET! Stupid woman probably doesn’t know jack s*** about the whole crap, anyway. Why do they even try…”

Coworker: *mutes me while looking up the relevant info*

(I keep rambling while I can’t help but grin inwardly. By now I have to gesture to the coworkers on the floor to shut up their laughter.)

Coworker: *unmutes* “Sir? There’s an outage in your area. Your Internet will return in about three hours. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

(And then, Mr. I-Study-Computer-Science says the magical words that make the floor resound with laughter:)

New Guy: “Oh, c’mon. No customer is that stupid!”

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Providing All Sorts Of Aid

, | Friendly | January 16, 2017

(I’m volunteering and badly cut a finger while hanging clothes. I go to the main office, and the first idle person I find is a psychologist I’ve never spoken with before. They are usually busy counseling people who fled from war zones.)

Me: “Hi! Sorry to bother you with trivial stuff, but do you happen to have a bandage?”

Psychologist: *jokingly* “Wonderful, something meaningful for me to do! I can finally apply my degree for the first time today!”

Me: “Yeah, this is obviously a cry for help. My sub-consciousness must have decided that I needed to hurt myself once my skin encountered the manic thrill of touching a coat hanger.”

Psychologist: “Perfect. A challenge. Attempted suicide by self-mutilation.”

(She hands me a bandage.)

Psychologist: “It’s nice to know that my full expertise can be applied to such a demanding case.”

Me: “Thank you for taming my bloodthirsty inner demon!”

(We joked some more, and once I went back to sorting clothes, I tried to be more careful than before. An hour later, however, I managed to cut myself again. Too scared to return to the office and risk making the psychologist worry for real, I worked the rest of the day stitched up with packing tape.)

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