Impossible Requests? Practically Bathing In Them

, , , , , , | | Right | May 30, 2018

(I work at a grooming salon. My coworker and I are taking a slight breather before getting to our last dogs of the evening. I’m in the back where the kennels are, getting a jump on the cleaning, and my coworker is up in the actual salon, squaring away our paperwork. She walks into the back with me, and we exchange about three sentences, and then I walk up to the front to adjust my table and make sure all of my tools are organized and ready. As I walk into the salon, I notice a woman who just barely got inside. The door is literally still swinging closed. I smile at her, and she makes a face back at me.)

Customer: “Whew! There you are! I was starting to get worried we were in the wrong place!”

Me: “Well, you found the grooming salon, if that’s what you were looking for.”

Customer: “I was just wondering if you have time to wash my little girl here. She just needs a shampoo and a blow-dry.”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry, but we’re completely booked up. Actually, we don’t have any bath appointments until two days from now.”

Customer: “Well, she’s just a little six-pound Yorkie. She’s no trouble at all!”

Me: “She’s so adorable! What a cutie! I’m so sorry that we can’t take her!”

(My coworker walks out with her goldendoodle, who is so huge he puts some ponies to shame.)

Customer: “Well, how long does it take to wash a dog?”

Me: “We usually quote three to four hours, though it could be more or less, depending on how the dog does for everything.”

Customer: “And what time do you close tonight?”

Me: “Six o’clock.”

(It’s currently 4:30.)

Customer: “I don’t want the whole works; I just want a little shampoo and a blow-dry, not even a full bath.”

(I tend to have a rather monotone voice and resting b****-face, so I try to make sure that I smile and sound pleasant. This customer is definitely trying my patience, and it’s really important to me that it does not come out in my face or voice.)

Me: “Yes, a shampoo and a blow-dry is considered a full bath. Again, I am so sorry that we are unable to accommodate you tonight!”

Customer: “It’s just… I’m visiting some friends, and she really needs a bath.”

Me: “Yes, it’s really too bad that I can’t take her. She really is just so cute!”

Customer: “I’ve been to other [Store] branches; I should be in your system.”

Me: “I’m sure you are. All of the [Store] computer systems are connected.”

(We both pause awkwardly, as she is unwilling to leave, and I’m grasping for a polite way to tell her that I have to get back to work.)

Customer: “Well… I guess… if you don’t have time.”

Me: “Yes, I’m really sorry that we don’t, but maybe we can help you out some other time!”

(The customer turns to the door and grasps the handle, and I almost hold my breath in hopes that she’ll leave already.)

Customer: “I’ve already told you that I’m not from around here. DON’T SAY THAT!”

Me: *smiling hugely* “Okay! Y’all have a great night!”

(As soon as the door closes, my coworker and I start cackling like mad.)

Me: “What just happened?”

Coworker: “I don’t know; I’m just glad I came out when I did so that I could witness it!” *imitates customer* “’I already told you I’m not from here. DON’T SAY THAT!’”

Me: “How many times did I tell her no? And somehow I’m the one who didn’t listen?”

(It had actually been a really stressful day, so I was almost a little thankful to the customer for giving my coworker and me something to laugh about while we finished our dogs.)

Confrontation Is In Their Jeans

, , , , | Right | May 29, 2018

(My mom works at a well-known department store. She answers the phone in a department that is not actually hers, but no one else was around to take the call. A woman is looking for a specific pair of jeans in a different size; she already owns one pair. She is on the phone for about twenty minutes, and this is the gist of the conversation.)

Mom: “[Store], miss’s department. My name is [Mom]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “I’m looking for a pair of [Brand] jeans in a specific color.”

Mom: “Okay, what color are you looking for?”

Customer: “I don’t know what color; there should only be, like, three.”

Mom: “There are more than three colors; it should say which on the tag.”

Customer: “I’ve worn these jeans; there is no tag!”

(After a while, my mom figures out that they don’t have what she’s looking for in the store.)

Customer: “Well, when are you getting more?”

Mom: “I don’t know if we will be; corporate sends us whatever they want to, but you can order them online, if you like.”

Customer: “I don’t have a computer!”

Mom: “Well, you can come to the store and order it from the kiosk.”

Customer: “I’ll get it in 24 hours if I order from the kiosk, right?”

Mom: “That’s only if we have them in store.”

Customer: “Why would I order them from the kiosk if you already have them?”

Mom: “Because we don’t have them.” *this continues for a while longer, and my mom eventually gives up* “Would you like to speak to a manager?”

Customer: “Would you like to shove it up your a**?”

(That’s when my mom hung up on her.)

Dad Is Being A Real Ganondorf

, , , , , | Right | May 29, 2018

(I decide that I will take in my XBox 360 and my PS3 Slim for trade-in towards a new PS4 or XBox One. I haven’t decided on which to get but I figure I’ll get store credit and decide later. When I take in my games and the two systems, the people behind the counter look at me a little sadly.)

Employee: “Do you have anything older, like NES, SNES, Sega, and so forth?”

Me: “Actually, yeah, I do.”

(I go home and come back with a box of NES cartridges — about 90 — instead, and the two guys are excited as they dig in and start to go through all of them. A young boy, about nine years old comes in.)

Boy: “Do you have the Gold NES Zelda?”

(This peaks my interest, because here is a kid not old enough to be ten, asking for a NES game.)

Employee: “Sorry, we don’t have any of those, just the Adventures of Link Gold Edition.”

(I go over and point to one of the stacks.)

Me: “No, you guys got a Gold NES Zelda right there.”

Employee: “Oh, I stand corrected. Here, is this what you were looking for?” *shows it to the boy*

Boy: *excited* “Yep!”

(The father comes over:)

Father: “How much?”

(The employee behind the counter looks to me.)

Me: “Well, I haven’t traded it in yet, and it’s rare that a kid this age would want an NES, so he can have it.”

(The father looks at me his eyes going narrow and his face curling in disgust like he’s looking at rotted meat.)

Father: “No, f*** you! We don’t take no freebies!”

(He storms in and stares at the employee behind the counter.)

Father: “How much will it be after he trades it in?”

Employee: “Well, they go for thirty-five, but I’ll do thirty. Or, you can do it for free right now from this gentleman.”

Father: “No! I told you we don’t do no f****** freebies!”

(He takes a hold of his kid’s arm — who is in near tears at this point, staring at the game he wants — and starts dragging the boy out.)

Father: “We’ll be back to buy it later after it’s traded in!”

(I try and stuff the game into the boy’s hoodie as he is being dragged by, but the father sees and gets up on me with his fist under my nose.)

Father: “NO! F*** YOU! WE DON’T DO FREEBIES!”

(With this, he pushed his kid out in front of him, and he stormed out.)

What A Diabeetus, Part 6

, , , , , , | Learning | May 29, 2018

(I have been called to the nurse’s office. Earlier this month I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.)

Tutor: “We notice that you’ve been missing a lot of school lately, and we wanted to be sure that you’re all right.”

Me: “Yes. It’s like my parents said: I’ve got diabetes, and I’ve had to go to the hospital a lot to make sure my glucose levels are stable.”

Nurse: “Hm, I don’t see anything in your records about this. Are you sure you have diabetes, and are not just skipping school?”

Me: “No, I definitely have diabetes.”

Tutor: “Look, [My Name], you can talk to us about any problems you’ve been having. Is everything all right at home?”

Me: “Everything is absolutely fine. Did you not listen to my parents when they told you that I have diabetes?

Nurse: “Troubled children sometimes make stories up to get attention. I read up on it a lot in medical school. There’s even a disorder for it. Munchausen, I think.”

Me: “I am not a troubled child, and even if I was, what good would it do pretending to have diabetes? It isn’t exactly something you can fake.”

Nurse: *putting on a sweet sarcastic tone* “Okay, if you can prove to us that you have ‘diabetes’—” *yes, she did air quotes* “—we’ll let you go back to your lesson.”

(I look at my tutor and he urges me on. I lift up my shirt to reveal my insulin pump.)

Me: “You know what this is, right? It’s called an insulin pump.”

(The nurse sputters and turns to her computer. My tutor’s face drains and he, too, turns away.)

Tutor: “Okay, you can go.”

(I told my parents when I got home, and my mum marched up to the school and chewed the heads off anyone who tried to get in her way. I ended up being moved to another tutor group, and that nurse hasn’t been seen since. I also received a laminated letter, signed by the headmistress, saying that I did, indeed, have a medical condition, and was under no obligation to prove it to anyone in school. It’s been a year and I have yet to use it.)

Related:
What A Diabeetus, Part 5
What A Diabeetus, Part 4
What A Diabeetus, Part 3

Busser Is Bust

, , , , , | | Working | May 28, 2018

(I just arrived with a group of friends at a restaurant during their busy lunch time. After a short wait, the waitress takes us to our table, but we arrive to find that there are two dirty dishes, a spill of sauce, and wadded up napkins on the table.)

Hostess: “Hey. I thought you cleared this table.”

Busser: “Yeah, getting there. Hold on.”

(The hostess apologizes and asks us to wait a moment, but we are sort of standing near the aisle where servers come out of the kitchen, so we finally sit to get out of the way. The whole time, the busser is nearby, rolling silverware. A few minutes later, our server comes over.)

Server: “Oh, was your table not cleaned off?”

Me: “No, the hostess said someone would be over, but…”

Server: “I’m really sorry. I’ll fix this.” *to busser* “Hey, you missed another table over here.”

Busses: “I know! I’m busy!”

(Our waitress fetches a damp rag to clean the spill, throws out the trash, and then takes our order and fetches us silverware. Soon, our appetizers come out. We are almost done eating them when the busser finally shows up.)

Busser: “What? Too impatient to wait for me?”

Me: “Just hungry! The server cleaned it up.”

Busser: “But she didn’t sanitize the tabletop. You people are gross. Here.”

(The busser started to spray some kind of sanitizer all over the table AND our appetizers. We immediately asked for the manager. Our meal was comped, so we tipped the full cost of the meal for the remaining employees who had to put up with a bad busser!)

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