Please Let The Door Hit You On The Way Out

, , , , , , | Right | December 10, 2017

(I’m a cashier. I am watching over the self-checks when one of them decides to act up while saying, “Please take your change,” to a customer. Thankfully, it dispenses the change and receipt like it should, but the customer is laughing.)

Self-Check Machine: “Please Ta-Please Ta-Please Ta-Please Ta-“

Me: “Sorry, but at least it gave you your change and receipt.”

Customer #1: *chuckling* “It’s all right. Besides, these things are more polite than some of the people in here.”

(I laugh as well while I open the machine top cover to reset it.)

Me: “That’s tru—”

(Just then, I hear another customer.)

Customer #2: “How much is this?!”

Me: “I’ll tell you in just a second.”

Customer #2:No! I asked you now! How much is this f****** thing?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t tell you right this second. Let me get this closed.”

(As I’m standing back up fully and beginning to pull my hand back, [Customer #2] pushes down on the cover, SLAMMING my fingers in between it and the machine. For those who don’t know how that feels, it’s about the same as a car door, particularly as hard as she slammed it.)

Me: *flinging open the cover, biting my lips* “Mmmmmpphhh!”

(Seeing me open up the machine cover again, [Customer #2] huffs.)

Customer #2: “I f****** closed it for you; now you’re reopening it. Fine! I can take a f****** hint, but you will hear from your manager!”

(As she leaves, I close the machine again and head to the watch station, clenching my fingers and using a damp rag to ease the pain. However, I have no idea that [Customer #1] has seen everything until he speaks up.)

Customer #1: “You know what? I’m going to stay here. If a manager does come, I’ll let them know what happened.”

(Sure enough, one of my supervisors approaches, with [Customer #2], while I’m still massaging my fingers.)

Supervisor: “Did you ignore this customer?”

Me: “I was fixing a machine and I told her to wait a moment.”

([Customer #2] opens her mouth to speak but [Customer #1] beats her to it.)

Customer #1: “The machine I was at had frozen up, and he was trying to restart it when she came up asking for price while he still had his head inside of the top part. He politely told her it’d be a moment, and she proceeded to demand it be done at that moment. However, as he was getting ready to close the machine, she slammed the machine down on his fingers.”

(I held out my slightly red fingers to illustrate the point only to notice [Customer #2] turning red.)

Customer #1: “He kept it to himself about how bad it hurt while reopening the cover. That’s when she left.”

Supervisor: *looking at my fingers and then at [Customer #2] pointedly* “What happened?”

Customer #2: “Uh… Um…” *turns red and leaves in a hurry without anything*

Adding Insult To Injury

, , , , , | Working | December 10, 2017

(I’m a security manager for a large building with both office and industrial areas. One of my workers falls on a stairwell. Per protocol, I contact HR as soon as I’m aware of the incident.)

HR: “Okay, so we have three options: The officer can see a doctor now. You’ll have to transport him, and get him drug-tested, too. Or he can choose to wait to seek treatment. And finally, he can refuse any kind of treatment altogether.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll let him know.”

HR: “The last option is the best one for us. I’d recommend using your best ‘Mom voice’ when you tell him the choices.”

Me: “Are you sure that’s okay?”

HR: “He’s probably fine. We’ve already had several OSHA incidents this year, so I’d rather not do the paperwork on another one.”

Off The Clock And Off The Hook

, , , , | Right | December 10, 2017

(I work in a grocery store. I realize that some people will recognize me and ask for help if I’m off the clock or out of uniform. I have already clocked out, and I have my coat on and my purse on my shoulder. A regular has stopped me to say hello and we exchange a few pleasantries. From behind me I hear a SLAM and I turn and see a woman glaring at me as if I have personally offended her. She slams her cart into the register right behind me and throws her stuff onto the belt. I admit, it has been a long day and I am already at the end of my rope, but the way she proceeds has me respond in a less than professional way.)

Customer: “Well?! Are you going to f****** help me or not?”

Me: “Nope. But one of the ladies on one of the three open registers can.”

Customer: “Are you f****** serious? You’re just standing there slacking off. Now, stop being so f****** useless and help me. I’m a customer. You’re working for me. C***.”

Me: “Ma’am, again. I cannot help you. I am off the clock and headed home.”

Customer: *begins shrieking* “Get me a manager right now! This is ridiculous! I DEMAND YOU RING ME OUT! MANAGER! MANAGERRRRRR!”

(The manager who has taken over for the night shift has run over upon hearing the screaming.)

Manager: “Ma’am… She is a manager. And she’s going home. She has her coat on. But if you bring your items to register one, two, or three, one of the ladies there can help you. And please, I do have to ask you to stop cursing, or you will be asked to leave. [My Name], have a good night!”

(I said goodnight to the kind regular I had been talking to, and as I continued to walk out I could hear the woman shrieking again. I got home to a text that she had thrown her eggs at the night manager while screaming a slew of curse words, and had to be escorted out by security.)

I Got 299 Problems But My Manager Ain’t One

, , , , , , , | Working | December 9, 2017

(A customer brings a pair of shoes to the front with no price tag, so I use our store headset to ask one of my coworkers to check for it.)

Coworker: *via headset* “It’s $2.99.”

Me: “For a pair of shoes? That can’t be right. Let me get [Nice Manager].”

Coworker: “He’s on break, so it’s just [Manager I don’t like]. Maybe the shoes are on clearance. Look, all I know is that what our database says.”

Me: “Okay… If you say so. You’re sure?”

Coworker: “You know, it’s a little insulting you keep asking me if I’m sure. I have 20/20 vision, and I’m going to [Local University]. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing.”

Me: “Okay, okay, sorry.”

(I adjust the price, regardless of my doubts. When you do a price change you have the option of adding a note as to why you changed it that’ll show up on the store’s receipt but not the customer’s. I type in the whole story, including coworker’s name and price.)

Me: “Okay, so, it turns out it’s your lucky day. These shoes are $2.99. They must be on clearance or something!”

Customer: “REALLY? Wow, I’m shopping here all the time, now. What great deals!”

(The customer leaves and I go on doing sales. When the manager I like comes back from break, I show him the transaction I was iffy about.)

Manager: “[Coworker] told you that [Brand] shoes were $2.99 and you believed her. We just lost almost $50! You’ve been here for three months; you should know the price of basically everything in the store. [Coworker] has been here for almost a year; I find it hard to believe she said these shoes were $2.99. You know, being responsible means—”

Coworker: *on headset* “Oh, [My Name], I misread the label. The shoes are actually $29.99. My bad.”

Manager: “What?” *grabs my headset* “Who do you think you’re fooling, [Coworker]? They’re $45.99. Are you trying to get [My Name] in trouble?”

(My coworker got called into the manager’s office. She got written up and sent home early because the manager only wanted “people he could trust” working the floor.)

Not So Highly Recommended

, , , , , , , | Related | December 9, 2017

(My husband and I are visiting his family for Thanksgiving, including his mother, aunt, and grandparents. His mother in particular is a very impatient and self-centered person. We’re in the open living room and kitchen area while his grandparents are working in the kitchen. They refuse to let us help out at all, as we are “guests,” so we are chatting with his aunt and mother when she interrupts my husband’s story:)

Husband: “So, we were trying to–“

Mother: “You know what?! I woke up this morning with a really bad pain in my neck!”

Husband: *caught off guard by the interruption* “Uh… Um, I’m sorry?”

Me: “Well, I’ve got some acetaminophen in my purse if you want some?”

Mother: *with a dramatic sigh* “No, no, no! Those just don’t work on me! They never make the over-the-counter stuff strong enough for me! I have to have a prescription for any kind of pain, but I left my pills at the hotel!”

Aunt: “Well, all I have is some muscle relaxant for my shoulder, but that won’t help much with the pain.”

Mother: *shouting across room at grandparents who are busy in the kitchen* “[Grandmother]! Do you have anything that might actually work for me?! It has to be something strong!”

Grandmother: “Well, I’ve got some leftover oxycodone from when they fixed my knee. Would that work?”

Mother:Yes! That will work! Where is it?”

Grandmother: “It’s just in our bathroom, on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.”

Mother: *exaggeratedly rubs side of neck* “Oh! Can you go get it for me? My neck hurts too much to look up!”

Me: *starts to get out of chair* “I can go grab it.”

Mother: *waves her hand at me to sit back down* “Oh no, dear! Don’t you fuss over little ol’ me! [Grandmother] can get it just fine!”

(My husband and I just sit awkwardly while [Grandmother] has to stop working on a side-dish and wash her hands to go to the bathroom and retrieve the pills. She hands one to [Mother] who immediately swallows the pill without water.)

Mother: “Oh! I hope that helps! My neck is just so sore!”

(But, not even five minutes later, she’s still complaining about the “horrible pain” in her neck:)

Mother: *turning to aunt and interrupting my husband again* “You know that pill just is not working! Can I have one of your muscle-relaxers?”

Me: “It probably just hasn’t kicked in yet. You could try to give it a few more minutes?”

Mother: *in a snotty tone* “No! It’s definitely not working! I knew this would happen; I always have to take more than other people! [Aunt] please? My neck hurts!”

([Aunt] turns and pulls a pill out of her purse, while rolling her eyes so I can see, and hands it to [Mother] who, once again, swallows it without a drink. She finally stops complaining and we go back to chatting. About ten minutes later she is telling a story about her work when this happens:)

Mother: “—and they said I did such a good job with the display that they want me to…” *voice trails off and she just sits quietly for a moment*

Husband: “Uh… Mom?”

Mother: *softly* “It’s really pretty in here with all these lights!”

([Aunt] turns to hide her face as she quietly shakes with laughter.)

Husband: “Um, okay. You were saying? About the display?”

Me: *looking at [Mother]’s eyes, which have dilated considerably* “Uh, honey, I don’t think she’s going to finish that story.”

Husband: *whispering to [Aunt]* “Did she just get high off those pills?!”

([Aunt] just lost it and started laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair, which just made the rest of us laugh! [Mother] was so out of it that we couldn’t get her to stand up, so we just let her sit at the table. She was so high she just stared at the lights and occasionally giggled to herself for the next few hours while we continued to hang out. She did mostly come-to once dinner was served. I don’t know if she realized what happened, or refuses to admit it as she has never mentioned it, but the rest of the family likes to joke about it every year!)

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