By Gum, A Female!

, , , | Right | May 25, 2020

I work in the tear-down department of a company that refurbishes the engines of large farm equipment such as combines. It isn’t uncommon to have the sales guys walk customers through the safe zones — marked with yellow paint lines — on a tour of the facility.  

I’m female. It’s after lunchtime, and I’ve been to a fast food restaurant and gotten a barrette of a famous feline as my kid meal toy, and I am currently sporting it pinned to the front of the hair bun on top of my head.

I am assigned to take apart the cylinder heads, and my workbench for that day happens to be right alongside a safe zone. A salesman strolls past with customers in tow, one of whom is an older gent with a pronounced limping gait.  

Suddenly, the older gent stops. He takes a few steps to do a 180 and comes back to my workbench. He squints at me and takes a pair of glasses out of a pocket. Thinking he wants to see what I am doing, I tell him the make and model combine that this part came off of.

Me: “Do you have a similar machine?”

He backs up a step, looks again with his glasses on, and utters this gem:

Old Gent: “By Gum! You are a girl!”

I look at my grubby, torn up hands.

Me: “Yes, sir. Good thing they make fake fingernails, huh?”

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That Is Not My Job!

, , , , , , , | Working | May 25, 2020

During a storm, a large piece of ice falls off the roof of our house, damaging the windshield and roof of my car. This happens on a Saturday night.

I call my insurance company to file my claim and get referred to a body shop. The shop they send me to is one of their approved/preferred partners. Part of my policy also covers a rental vehicle.

Monday morning, I have to work, so my mom drops the car off for me at the body shop. They ask her if she would like to pick up the rental car at that time. She says no, which is correct. The next day, the agent handling my claim calls to get more details about the incident and follow up.

He asks if I’ve sent the car to the shop yet and if I’ve gotten the rental car. I say yes, the car is at the shop, but because I have a work truck during the week, I am waiting until Friday afternoon to get the rental car. He says that’s no problem; I should just give the body shop a little notice and they’ll arrange it on the day I want to pick it up.

Fast forward to Friday. I get off work around 1:00 pm. I call the body shop to arrange the rental car as instructed. The woman that answers says I have to call the car rental company directly. Okay, no problem. That’s not what I was told, but maybe I misunderstood.

I call the rental company, and the gentleman gets me set up with no issues. That is, until he asks me for a reservation number that my insurance company should have given me. I explain that I never got one. He says that’s okay, I can still go get the car, but I should try to get the number before I get there.

As I’m leaving to walk over to the rental place, I call my insurance company to explain. I’m lucky enough to speak to the same agent that’s handling my claim — I called his direct line first but he was on another call.

I go over what just transpired and request the reservation number from him. He pauses for a moment and I can tell he’s frustrated. 

He says, “Really?! That’s part of their job! They’re one of our approved shops. They should have set that up for you. One moment, please.”

He puts me on hold for a few minutes. When he comes back to me, I’m about a minute away from the car rental place.

“I’ve set you up with a proper rental; your reservation number is [number],” the agent explains. “It may take a few minutes for it to show up in their system but it will be ready for you today. I’ve also sent an email to my superiors about this. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

I tell him, “No, thank you for helping me sort this out. I’m sorry if I made it harder for you by trying to set up my own rental.”

“Not at all! You didn’t do anything wrong,” the agent says. “They shouldn’t have had you do that.”

We finish the call just as I walk into the car rental place. My rental car is already pulled out and waiting for me, and the staff there can’t have been more pleasant. I just wish the process had been easier.

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New Venue For The Derby: Surface Of The Sun

, , , , , | Right | May 20, 2020

It’s the day before a large demolition derby and my coworker is helping a customer, who has a pretty thick country accent, try to find some paint for his derby car.

Coworker: “What kind of paint do you need?”

Customer: “Hi-temp paint for my derby car.”

Coworker: “Okay, well, we have high temp engine enamel, rated to 550F.”

Customer: “That’s not hot enough.”

Coworker: “Okay, well, we also have some exhaust paint that’s rated to 2000F.”

Customer: “Still not hot enough. You ever ridden in a derby car?”

Coworker: “No.”

Customer: “It runs at 5000 degrees.”

Somehow, my coworker manages to keep a straight face.

Coworker: “Well, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any paint rated that high.”

After the customer huffs out of the store, the coworker tells us the story.

Me: “He does know that 5000F is about half the temperature of the surface of the sun, and that the car would have melted long before that, right?”

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Sounds Like He Might Be An Expert In That Particular Field

, , , , | Working | April 28, 2020

(I have brought my car in for a service. I am told when booking that if I come in an hour before opening, my car will be ready by 12:00 pm for me to go to work. It is 11:45 and the receptionist comes up to me.)

Receptionist: “They’re just doing our free, complimentary health check. You should get your car back by 1:30.”

Me: “What? No, that isn’t what was agreed. And I specifically asked to be opted out of the health check when I booked.”

Receptionist: “You can’t opt out of the free, complimentary health check.”

Me: “Yes. I can. The email confirmation actually states it.”

(I pull up the email on my phone and she reads it. She excuses herself and runs through a staff-only door. I hear a lot of shouting and then two men in coveralls storm up to me.)

Mechanic: “You can’t opt out of the health check!”

Me: “Yes, I can. My email says so.”

Mechanic: “I don’t f****** care. You will get your car back when I’m finished, and you had better show me the proper respect or it will take longer.”

Me: “Sorry, but aren’t you meant to be servicing my car?”

Mechanic: “YES!”

Me: “Why would it need a health check, then? Isn’t the service the health check?”

(He stares at me, stumped, for a few seconds.)

Me: “Exactly. It was agreed that my car would be ready by 12:00 pm. I expect it to be ready by 12:00 pm. Is that understood?”

(He blushes and then storms back through the door. I’m finally given my keys at 12:30, with apologies from the manager.)

Manager: “I hope this hasn’t damaged your trust in us.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it has.”

(I get an email on my phone and I quickly open it. A video plays instantly of an inspection the mechanic has done. It is playing quite loudly, with him screaming at me for being stupid and gay for owning “a pathetic piece of s*** car.” The manager is going pale as the video plays on. It finally ends with the mechanic lowering my car a little rougher than he should and him saying, “Oops, that sounds like your suspension.”)

Me: “You know what, I’m not sorry. I’ll be taking my ‘pathetic piece of s*** car’ and never coming back!”

(As I walked out, I heard the mechanic through the door exclaiming in shock that I was still there. I got a letter a couple of weeks later apologising for unacceptable behaviour and damage intentionally done to my car, with assurances that the mechanic was appropriately handled. I was also offered several free services as compensation. I would have considered using them, but I heard from a friend who also uses said garage that the mechanic is still there and is just as unappealing as ever.)

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Unfiltered Story #191488

, , , | Unfiltered | April 4, 2020

Caller: Hi, I was wondering if you could give me directions to your shop?
Me: Sure *gives detailed directions*
Caller: Okay and can you tell me about the helmets you have in stock?
Me: Sure. We’ve got a whole range. What sort of riding are you doing? *I carry on talking to him about helmets for about 5 minutes*
Caller: Can you just hang on a minute?
Me: Sure.
*I can hear him breathing heavily and some scuffling sounds in the backgroung*
Caller: Oh yeah. That felt really good. Do you want to know what I was doing?
Me: No thank you! Goodbye!
*hangs up as fast as I can*