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Stories about people who clearly aim to misbehave.

More Dramatic Than Anything You’d See On That TV

, , , , , , | Working | November 24, 2017

(My uncle, my brother, and I go to buy a TV for my grandmother. We find one and go to pay.)

Uncle: *to the cashier* “Can we split this on two cards?”

(She rolls her eyes and looks at us like we have asked her to do the impossible.)

Cashier: “Yeah, I guess so.”

Uncle: “Great! $250 on this first one, please.”

Cashier: “Okay, swipe the first card.”

(The entire amount of the transaction goes through on the first card.)

Cashier: “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Uncle: “I swiped my card, and the entire transaction went through.”

Cashier: “YOU DID SOMETHING! I DID MY PART RIGHT; WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

(At this point we’re already upset because we have done nothing and she is yelling at us.)

Uncle: “I did nothing but swipe my card.”

Brother: “It’s fine; I will pay you back later, [Uncle].”

Uncle: “Can we reverse the transaction and then try paying on the two cards again?”

Cashier: “DID YOU NOT HEAR HIM? JUST TAKE THE D*** TV AND LEAVE! HE WILL PAY YOU BACK LATER!”

(The manager came over and tried to calm her down. We started leaving, and the entire time she was yelling how her SEVEN sons were going to come find and beat us up.)

Under The Bed, Over The Top

, , , , , , , | Related | November 24, 2017

(Our six-year-old son has watched a scary film he shouldn’t have. He is being obnoxious and unrepentant, claiming that he is old enough to watch them, and so is being punished with early bedtime.)

Son: “I don’t want to go to bed!”

Me: “Well, you should have thought of that before you sneakily watched a grown-up movie.”

Son: “But the monster under the bed will get me!”

Me: “There isn’t a monster under the bed. You’re just scared because you watched a movie you are too young for.”

Son: “No! There is a monster! It will get me!”

Me: “Fine, I will go and look under the bed for you. When I can see there is no monster, you’re going to bed.”

Son: “Okay!”

(I go up to his room, and make a big show of looking under the bed. I go pale. I see my husband under the bed wearing all manner of scary Halloween masks and pieces of costume. He looks, quite frankly, terrifying. He stifles a giggle and mouths to be quiet. I catch on.)

Me: *to son* “Okay, there are no monsters here. You need to go to bed now.”

Son: “What if I stay up but be quiet?”

Me: “No way. You know what you did wrong. You need to be punished. To bed. Now.”

(He flops onto the bed and I close the door to his bedroom behind me. Ten seconds later there is the loudest scream you can imagine coming from his room, followed by the sounds of my husband laughing. I walk back into the room.)

Husband: “I thought you were old enough to watch scary stuff?”

(I know it sounds mean, but he never watched an age-inappropriate movie again, especially a scary one, until well into his late teens!)

Food Inedible, Policy Untenable

, , , , , , , | Working | November 24, 2017

(Some friends and I go out to dinner. All of us have worked in the service or customer service industry at some point, so we tend to be pretty understanding and forgiving of most things. However, the service on this night is bad enough that we have no choice but to ask for a manager. The hostess and wait staff have been rude, and our food shows up inedible; six people order at the table — one steak, two burgers, and three chicken dishes — and every dish is burnt or overcooked. The burgers are so bad they are basically hockey pucks, the steak was ordered medium and comes out blackened and hard, and the baked chicken is hard and stringy. We point this out to our waitress.)

Waitress: *huffs and rolls her eyes* “Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

Friend #1: “The burgers are really overcooked, and anyone who got chicken can’t even eat theirs, it’s so bad.”

Friend #3: “And my steak is really overdone. I asked for medium and this is… Well, it’s a tire.”

Waitress: “If you want new dishes, you have to pay for those meals, too.”

Friend #2: “No, we don’t. Since when is that a rule? It’s the fault of the kitchen.”

Waitress: “If you don’t like what you get, and you order something new, that’s not our fault. That’s on you. We had to keep everyone’s food under the heat lamps because that one ordered a steak and that takes longer to cook. Blame her.” *storms off*

(At this point, we are all shocked. We flag down another waitress and ask her to send over a manager — this waitress at least is nice. We explain to the manager what has happened and find that the manager has the same attitude. She insists that if we are getting new food, we have to pay for those plates along with the first. She refuses to even acknowledge how burnt our food is.)

Manager: “I won’t explain this again. If you want another dish, you have to pay for it. I can’t just give free food to every customer who is picky. Don’t order things that you don’t like.”

Friend #3: “Look, lady, we aren’t looking for a freebie here; we just want food we can actually eat. You can’t expect us to pay for food that we can’t even eat. Your kitchen made the error, not us. I sure didn’t go back there and burn my dinner.”

Manager: “If you aren’t going to pay, I’m going to call the cops.”

(We all share a glance because we’ve never experienced something quite like this. We have, to our best ability, made it clear that we intend to pay for dinner. We just want to eat that dinner first, and we can’t eat the dishes we have been served. I finally sigh and shake my head.)

Me: “You know what? Forget it. Just bring us the check. We’ll find somewhere else to eat.”

(I throw down my credit card, pay, and get us out of there. I’m irritated and starving by this point, as are my friends. Instead of waiting at a new restaurant we just go to [Friend #1]’s house and make a few frozen pizzas. We all have a good laugh after we eat and calm down but are all still pretty irritated by the situation. I grab the website for comments and questions off of our receipt and send the story of what happened. Two days later I get an email from a customer service rep. The email starts with a very scripted line thanking me for my patronage of their restaurant and that they “always strive to give the best customer service possible.” Then it takes an interesting turn.)

Customer Service: “It’s always hard to hear that someone is not happy with our service. We reached out to our [Town] location for their version of the story, as well. The particular event you described can be especially confusing for those not familiar with our policies; however, rest assured that the wait-staff and manager were both acting upon a policy that is the same for all our of stores. We are always so pleased to hear our team members upholding the values we have built our company around. In the event that a customer is not happy with their meal, they always have the option of ordering another item off of our generous menu. However, in the event that someone does order something new, they are responsible for both dishes ordered. It is only in a rare occasion that [Restaurant] will waive the fee of an ordered dish. I hope this clears things up, and we hope that you will give us a chance to serve you again in the future!”

(I am shocked at this point. I wasn’t expecting much to come of reaching out to the company, but I certainly wasn’t expecting that! About ten minutes go by; then, I see another email appear in my inbox. It is from a name that I don’t recognize, but upon inspection, I see that it is someone who had been CC’d in the response from the customer service rep. He obviously hit Reply All instead of replying directly to the original sender.)

Email: “Nicely handled! Gotta let these scammers know whose boss!”

(The email is signed by someone with a position stamp of some sort of District Manager. I take a moment to quell my rage before sending my final email. Just as this DM did, I make sure to hit “Reply All.”)

Me: “*Who’s. ;-)”

(Immature? Maybe. But it sure made me feel better.)

Some Of Your Clients Are Ice Cold

, , , , , | Right | November 24, 2017

(I take incoming calls at my office and direct them as needed. There are times I will take my lunch at the desk and answer calls. This is one of those days, and I have just sat back down with a hot meal when the phone rings.)

Me: “[Office], how can I help you?”

Client: “Hi, this is [Client].” *pauses* “I just noticed the time! Are you on your lunch break?”

Me: “I am; I just sat down, actually.” *laughs* “This gives my food time to cool off; it’s fresh from the microwave. How can I help you, [Client]?”

(She spends 50 minutes asking me questions, sometimes repetitive ones that I’ve already answered in length, before she finally winds down. I have gone from pleasant to agitated with time, because I’m hungry and my lunch break is almost over.)

Client: *sounding gleeful* “I bet your food is ice cold now, isn’t it?”

Me: “It is.”

Client: *laughs and hangs up*

Dogs Are The Best Drugs

, , , , , | Friendly | November 23, 2017

(I volunteer with my dog at a rest home. We go around all the rooms and common areas interacting with the residents, especially those who love dogs. Because it’s a rest home, the residents are elderly and often ill; I am getting used to old friends passing away and new ones coming in. As I’m nearing the end of a corridor, a lady is standing in her doorway. We haven’t met her before.)

Resident: “Is that a drug dog? Are you here looking for drugs?”

Me: *jokingly* “No, why? Have you got some?”

Resident: *big, deep sigh* “Only the ones they give me, sadly.”

(Later in that same visit I accidentally walked in on two of the residents canoodling. I left that day reminded that age is no indicator of mischievousness!)