Their Parenting Is A Sinking Kayak

, , , , , , | Related | August 21, 2018

A couple weeks ago a coworker of mine sold two kayaks and paged me from the loading dock to ask if I could help him load them for the customer. “Sure,” I replied, and made my way back to find the customer, his wife, and three screaming young children swarming around a minivan. The van did not have a kayak rack, only the roof rack it came with from the factory.

While my coworker and I manhandled the kayaks onto the roof, the customer assumed the role of “event coordinator.” He wanted them arranged a certain way — the most difficult possible, of course — and was never quite happy with the way we tipped, angled, and flipped the kayaks. Needless to say, my fellow worker and I spent a good 25 minutes with our arms over our heads, trying to steady the kayaks while the customer stood back, pondering his “vision.”

Not long into this ill-fated venture, one of the younger screaming children got out of the van, came over to where we were standing, and started poking at me. It began with a poke in the side. I’m not ticklish or anything, but it just wasn’t a comfortable feeling. I looked down at him and shook my head no. The fact that he was getting to me was intensely gratifying to him, because he escalated to punching me lightly in the side, back, and legs. With each hit, he became more bold and the blows began to pack on more force.

Inside the van, Mom made herself useful by being absorbed in her phone. Dad was too busy trying to craft a kayak Mona Lisa and paid the child no attention, either. After telling the kid, “No,” “Please stop,” and, “Don’t do that,” a half dozen times, I was getting pretty pissed.

Finally, while my attention was fixed upon yet another rearrangement of the kayaks, the kid tried to take my wallet and pocket knife out of the back of my pants. In a lightning-fast move, he then reached around front and gave me a hard sock right in the groin. That was it. I turned, gritted my teeth into the meanest scowl I could imagine and growled, “QUIT IT!”

Naturally, the kid started bawling and ran for the solace of his mother, who snapped out of la-la land and glared at me. Dad also gave me the stink eye, saying, “Thanks, but we’ve got it from here.” I forced myself to say, “Thanks, and you have a nice day,” before walking back inside.

You’ve got to love involved parents.

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The Biggest Stain Here Is You

, , , , , | Right | August 20, 2018

(I work at a dry-cleaners, and sometimes we have customers dropping off clothes with stains that we can’t get out. We always call them about it if this is the case, and don’t clean the clothes. This particular customer we told that we would try, but later on we decided that it wouldn’t be possible. We tried to notify the customer through a multitude of phone calls, all of which went unanswered. This is a Korean-owned business.)

Customer: “I’m here for pick-up. My phone number is [phone number].”

Me: “Okay! Let me just get that for you.”

(I bring the clothes up to the front, half of which are cleaned. The rest have bleach stains that we cannot get out.)

Me: “Unfortunately, we didn’t clean some of stained shirts because it’ll be nearly impossible to get those stains out.”

Customer: “What?! So you guys didn’t even clean them?!”

Me: “No, we tried calling you about it ahead of time—”

Customer: “I didn’t get no phone call!”

(He takes his change and leaves in a huff while spewing insults at us under his breath.)

Customer: “F***! F****** [Asian racial slur]!”

(I proceeded to glare at him, but he was too chicken to turn around.)

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I’ll Take A Burger With Crying Onions And Some Sweet Jesus

, , , , , | Right | August 20, 2018

(My mother goes to church with a woman who no one can stand. This includes me, even though I don’t go to church with my mom. This woman has been banned from her previous churches, various restaurants, and a few stores for being either very rude or assaulting or threatening to assault other people and employees. One day, she happens to come through the drive-thru where I work. I am in charge since my manager is at a meeting. I am in the kitchen listening to the speaker as my cashier takes her order. I recognize her voice. Everyone I work with has years of history together, so we treat each other like close family; mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.)

Cashier: “[Restaurant], how can I help you?”

Customer: “I want your [two burger promotion].”

Cashier: “Okay, which ones?”

Customer: “The [two burger promotion].”

Cashier: “The promotion includes [five different hamburgers].”

Customer: “I want the two burgers!”

(This goes on for a while before the cashier finally gets her to specify which two burgers she wants. She goes up to the window before the cashier gives her total, as I make the burgers.)

Cashier: “Just the [burgers], right? It was [total].”

Customer: “Why didn’t you tell me back there?”

Cashier: “You drove off before I could. Your total was [total].”

Customer: “No, they were [promotion price]!”

Cashier: “Yeah, that’s before tax.”

Customer: “But the sign says it’s [price]!”

Cashier: “The fine print of the sign also says, ‘plus tax where applicable.’ Everything sold in this state is taxed.”

Customer: “So, you think you Mexicans can take my money because California feels sorry for you being brown?”

Cashier: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I bet there’s not a d*** person with a decent education in here!”

(I finish the burgers and overhear the conversation; my fryer guy is becoming livid about her racism. I tell him to go calm down in the freezer, then come around the corner to the front and ask the cashier to step back. I lean against the window counter and smile.)

Me: “Hey, [Customer]. Remember me, [Mom]’s daughter?”

Customer: “Oh, yes. I didn’t think you worked here. How are you?”

Me: “Zip it.”

(She looks at me, mortified. I hear the cashier gasp a bit.)

Me: “I’ve listened to this whole thing. You have no right to come here and berate my friend about a price she has no control over. If you were any other customer, we’d deal with it and let it go. But this time I’ve had enough. I will be informing [Pastor] and [Mom] about this. None of us will serve you here again, since 95% of the staff is Latino. Get out.”

(I close and lock the window as she screams and drives off. I go back into the kitchen to find the fryer guy listening in.)

Cashier: “Holy crap, dude!”

Fryer Guy: “Did you just tell her you’re going to tell your mom?”

Me: “She goes to her church; everyone hates her because she acts like that everywhere.”

Fryer Guy: “That b**** goes to church? For what, being the body to send exorcised demons to?”

(An hour later the phone rings and the cashier answers. She hands it to me, smiling.)

Cashier: “It’s church lady.”

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Are you the manager?”

Me: “At the moment.”

Customer: “One of your employees yelled at me!”

Me: “Really? I bet she was fed up. Did you happen to call and rant to [Mom] about it yet? If you haven’t, tell her I said hi and I’ll be home late.”

(She gasped and hung up. I got home and explained to my mom what happened. She laughed and promptly told the pastor. He scheduled a meeting with her about her behavior. Not very Christian of her to act like that.)

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God Is A Meany

, , , , | Right | August 20, 2018

(My mom and I are taking a trip together and have a layover at a large airport in Texas. We learn upon landing that there have been some severe storms in the area and all flights are delayed. We don’t mind, since we are early, anyway, and we tend to be pretty laid back about that kind of thing, especially when it’s something beyond the airport’s control. We are waiting in the seats by the service desk just in case our flight time changes again. A 25-ish year old woman in a suit two-times too small for her comes running up, pulling her suitcase so fast that it’s bounced off the wheels and is dragging on its side. My mom and I watch the whole thing go down.)

Woman: “I was just told my flight is delayed! Why is my flight delayed?!”

Agent: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there are severe thunderstorms moving through the area, and for the safety of our passengers we have delayed all flight times out of [Airport].”

Woman: “But… but…” *immediately drops her suitcase and starts BAWLING at the customer service counter* “But I need to catch this flight!”

Agent: *temporarily shocked* “I do apologize, ma’am, but it’s really out of our control at the moment. We’ll be happy to reimburse your ticket.”

Woman: “No! NO! I can’t miss this flight! Why are you doing this? Why are you being so mean?

Agent: “I’m sorry, what?”

Woman: “You’re being mean!”

(She is crying so hard now, my mom is afraid she is going to pass out, and tells me to be ready to call for medical help.)

Woman: “WHY ARE YOU BEING SO MEAN TO ME?!”

Agent: “Ma’am, I promise that we are not being mean to you; we are concerned for your safety.”

Woman: “WHY?! Why did you change my flight?!”

Agent: *starting to look worried too* “Because of the storms, ma’am.”

Woman: “That’s so mean! Why are there storms right now?!

Agent: “Um… act of God?”

(The agent handled herself really well, considering. This went on for nearly 15 minutes before a manager and a security guard came to escort the woman to a place where she could calm down. The storms passed through pretty quickly, and most of the flights were back up and running within an hour. My mom and I were even bumped up to first class since we were willing to wait longer than some of the other passengers!)

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Your Card Is Bad And So Are You

, , , , , , | Right | August 20, 2018

(I am working as a cashier at a popular superstore.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, your card declined. Do you have another form of payment?”

Customer: “What the h*** did you do? Try it again and this time, don’t touch it!”

Me: “Of course. Slide your card again, please.”

Customer: *slides card*

Me: *presses button to process card*

Customer: “I said don’t touch it!”

Me: “Ma’am, I have to press the button, or the transaction will not process. I’m sorry, the card is still declined. Do you have another card you want to try?”

Customer: “My card is good! You are doing this on purpose! Run it again, and this time don’t you dare press that f****** button, you dumb b****!”

Me: “Please, there’s no need for that; there are children here. We can try again if you’d like, but I will need to press the button, and I don’t think the outcome will change.”

Customer: *slides card while grumbling under her breath*

Me: *presses button to process card*

Customer: *screaming now* “I told you not to press that d*** button. Are you deaf or just stupid?! Get me a manager now! I will have your job!”

(My manager is nearby and has heard most of the exchange.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem here?”

Customer: “This b**** keeps pressing her little button and making my card decline! I want her fired immediately!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I hate to inform you of this, but there is no button she can press to make your order decline. There must be a problem with the card or with your bank; you will need to use another card, or I can set your items aside if you want to come back at another time. ”

Customer: “F*** all of you! You’re a bunch of liars! My card is good! MY CARD IS GOOD!”

(The customer continues screaming, cursing, and destroying displays until security removes her from the store.)

Manager: *to me*  “Go ahead and take your break a little early tonight.”

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