Saving A Damsel From Distress

, , , , , , | Right | January 5, 2020

(I have been traveling around Europe with only a small piece of luggage with me. I’m not allowed to bring anything else as my ticket is a simple one, but in Toledo, I have to buy a sword because of who am I as a person. Going to Italy, I pay a fine of €50 to bring Damsel, my sword, with me. This happens when I’m in Italy’s airport again, flying to Madrid in a connection flight so I can go back to my country, Argentina. After giving my passport and ticket, the check-in lady, who looks really grumpy, tells me to give her my luggage and the box with Damsel to weigh them.)

Me: “Oh, no, this one comes with me inside the cabin. The box with the sword goes with the cargo.”

Lady: *annoyed* “The plane is full, so everything has to go with the cargo.”

Me: “I understand. No problem, then. I still have to pay the fine for the box.”

(We both make a pause and I realize it.)

Me: “People have been giving you h*** for this, haven’t they?”

Lady: “Yes! They complain and complain!”

Me: *laughs* “Don’t worry; I understand that this is not something you control. Do whatever you have to do; I’m not going to get mad.”

Lady: “Thank you! You know what? Your ticket from Madrid to Buenos Aires does allow the extra cargo; I’m sending both your things directly to Argentina, so you don’t have to pay the fine.”

Me: “Are you serious? Did you just save me €50?”

Lady: “Yes, have a nice flight!”

(Lady, thank you a lot for your work. Damsel and I are very grateful that you saved this poor writer so much money.)

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Not Always Right, But Sometimes

, , , , | Right | January 5, 2020

(A coworker is running the counter where we sample our products for the first time. My boss tells me to help her when she needs it, which I have no problem with. I’m friendly with the coworker, and she understands my sarcastic humor, so I joke with her as soon as the boss walks away.)

Me: “Hey, [Coworker]. You’re on your own.”

Customer: “NO, SHE’S NOT! YOU’RE GONNA HELP HER!” *glares*

Me: *laughs* “Yes, I absolutely am.”

(My coworker and I had a laugh at how the customer thought I was serious. I couldn’t even be angry at getting yelled at, since it was actually nice to see a customer try to stand up for the right thing.)

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Sometimes They Are Right, And It Comes With Age

, , , | Right | January 3, 2020

Me: “Hi, I would like a pack of [Cigarette Brand], please.”

Cashier: “May I see some ID?”

(This is where I have my “oh, crap” moment. While I am definitely old enough to purchase tobacco, earlier in the day I renewed my driver’s license, which means that I had to surrender my photo ID. I do have an interim copy of my license on paper, but the print clearly indicates that I cannot use it as identification.)

Me: “Aw, geez, my bad. I totally forgot my ID.”

Cashier: “Oh, sure, you did.”

(The cashier’s reply is teeming with sarcasm. I imagine at this point, she is assuming I’m an underage teenager trying to pull a fast one on her.)

Me: “Looks like I’ll have to go home to get it. I’ll be right back!”

Cashier: “Okay, whatever you say, sweetie!”

(I really don’t like it when people don’t believe me, AND I want to buy cigarettes, so I actually go home and then return to the same convenience store.)

Me: “Hello again. I’d like a pack of [Cigarette Brand], and I brought ID this time!”

(I present her my current and valid passport, which is pretty d*** ironclad when it comes to identification.)

Cashier: *laughing* “Okay, you win this round. You are literally the first person I’ve ever met to use the ‘I left my ID at home’ excuse who was actually able to back it up!”

(Moral of the story: carry a second piece of ID if you’re going to renew your driver’s license, or quit smoking altogether!)

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What Amazing Lock Luck!

, , , , , | Working | January 3, 2020

(I am a grocery delivery driver for one of the largest supermarkets in the UK. I am having an off day, to say the least. Due to the hot weather, the freezer unit on my van hasn’t been operating quite as well as it should, so I decide to leave the engine running — and as such the freezer — while I am getting shopping out of the van and ready to take to the customer. In this particular instance, I get out of the van and manage to lock myself out completely — with the engine running so at least the freezer is still going. I phone my store and they agree to send out the spare keys. After I spend five minutes sitting around sheepishly doing nothing, the customer comes out from her house.)

Customer: “Did you lock yourself out of the van?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “My husband is a locksmith; do you want him to help?”

(So, it turned out that by pure luck my customer’s husband was a locksmith whose job was to break into vans when drivers lock the keys inside. He used some specialist tools, popped the lock open, and retrieved my keys. I called my store and they cancelled the spare keys. I also refunded — at my manager’s instructions — a few items from their order as thanks for the effort.)

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Be Nice, Get Beer… Why Can’t Everything Be This Simple?  

, , , , , , | Right | December 31, 2019

(My wife and I have found out about a music and local beer festival happening not far from us. We get in the car and find out we’re the first ones to show up for the day. As we get in line, the ladies working the admissions and beer ticket table — in the blowing, rainy weather that is typical of our area of Virginia during the late fall — are having technical issues. Namely, the device they’re using to try to run the debit/credit cards isn’t connecting to the Wi-Fi. As they trying to fix this, they keep apologizing profusely.)

Lady #1: “Hey, we’re really sorry about this! Normally, it doesn’t take this long! We don’t mean to keep you all out there in this weather.”

Me: “Oh, hey, it’s fine. I don’t mind. We’ve got plenty of time, and in a little while, I’m going to get some good beer, and I’m here with my favorite person ever, so it’s totally fine!”

Lady #2: “Most people wouldn’t be so calm about this, you know? Like, they’d be yelling at us.”

Me: “Yeah, I’ve worked in customer service for 19 years; trust me, I know. I always try not to be ‘that customer,’ you know? The one you tell stories about when you go home? Shoot, there’s no reason for that.”

Lady #1: *laughing* “Well, did you want to yell at us even a little bit? Just pretend or something? Might make you feel better!”

Me: “Oh, gods, no! I’d feel terrible. Besides, it wouldn’t even be believable.”

Wife: “Yeah, he’s a terrible actor. I always know when he’s on about something. He wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Lady #1: “You two are probably about the nicest people we’ll have all day. Tell you what. Go on in the bar and have them ring you up in there, and then go ahead and go right to the front of the beer line. They’ll take care of you in there.”

(I was able to get right to the front of the beer line and got a nice tall cup of the seasonal beer I’d been waiting most of a year for! Being nice to customer service folks can really pay off!)

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