First-Born Son Sacrifice Required To Cash Checks

, , | Right | December 1, 2018

(We are required by law to collect certain pieces of information from non-customers before cashing a check for them. Our system will not allow us to cash anything without this information. Most of our regulars understand this, and provide this information without protest. We occasionally get someone who tries to argue…)

Me: “Good morning. How can I help you?”

Customer #1: “Cash this.” *throws ID and check at me*

Me: “Have you ever cashed here before?”

Customer #1: “No.”

Me: “Okay, no problem. I just need to ask you a few additional questions. Can you confirm your current address, please?”

Customer #1: “Why do you need to ask me anything? I have my ID and this check, and you have to cash it for me!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I am required by federal law to ask—”

Customer #1: “I will not give you any information! Get me a manager, now!

(I flag down the nearest supervisor, who has heard the whole thing.)

Supervisor: “Good morning, sir. As [My Name] said, we are required by law to get certain pieces of information before we can cash a check for you.”

Customer #1:I am not a criminal! I won’t give you any information! What are you going to do about that, huh?”

Supervisor: “Our system will not let us cash a check without this information, so unfortunately we will not be able to process this for you today.” *hands the check back*

Customer #1: “FINE! I will go to my bank!” *storms out*

Supervisor: “Imagine what would’ve happened if you’d gotten through all the questions…”

Me: “No kidding!”

([Customer #2], a regular, steps up to my window.)

Customer #2: “I have my ID ready and all my information is up to date. Would you like a blood sample or my firstborn child as a second form of ID?” *grins*

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She Should Try This Brand-New Technology Called Email

, , , , | Right | November 30, 2018

(I work in a small stationery and book store, but we also provide a fax service. We charge $2 as a base price; there is no extra charge if it is a local number or an 800-number, and an extra charge by minute according to the destination is applied if it is not local. It may get a little more pricey if it is outside the Quebec region. Customers usually come to our store, as it is the cheapest; the other store offering the service charges $2 a sheet they send. One day a customer comes in to fax a four-page document to Ontario. After a few minutes, I receive the confirmation and I ring her up.)

Me: “That will be $4.50.”

(She looks at me as if I’ve just told her it would cost $400. She then proceeds to scream in disbelief.)

Customer: “$4.50 FOR A FAX?!”

Me: *confused, as no one has ever complained for the cost* “Yes?”

Customer: “FOUR dollars FIFTY, for a FAX?! FOUR FIFTY?!”

(She then storms out of the store with her sheets in her hands without paying and still yelling how it is crazy and so expensive and all. I’m frozen in place, staring at the door with a look of “What just happened?” on my face. I slowly turn around to look at the remaining three customers, two who were browsing and one that was waiting to come to the counter. They are just as confused as I am, and we just look at each other in disbelief for a moment before one of the customers, an old teacher of mine, comments how crazy that woman was. We all agree, and I go back to my normal self and delete the transaction. That is when my boss decides to come back from her lunch break. She stops as soon as she enters, seeing us all like this, a bit confused as to why there is a very awkward ambiance and why we all seem a bit frozen in place. After everyone is gone, she asks me what happened, and I tell her, with a description of the woman. She starts laughing.)

Boss: “I’m so sorry; I know it’s not funny, but what can we do? Better to laugh about it than cry. She’s the one in the wrong; if she ever comes back, which I doubt she will, make her pay and watch her closely.”

Me: “If that happens, I’m not giving her papers back until she pays.”

(My boss starts laughing even more and proceeds to tease me for the following week, telling customers we see often what happened when they ask why she teases me that much. Fast forward a month and a half; the woman comes back! As soon as I see her I brace myself. As soon as she sees me, she seems uncomfortable, and she comes to me to say sorry and make up an excuse. Still suspicious, I say it’s okay and ask if I can help her. She takes a pen and wants to send another fax. This time I keep the documents on the other side of the counter. I ring her up.)

Customer: “Do I have to pay for the other time?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but yes, you have to.”

Customer: *sounding defeated* “All right…”

Me: “That will be $10.35.”

(She pays, and THEN I give her back her papers. She leaves, and my boss comes up to me.)

Boss: “Was that the one that freaked out about the price of her fax last time?”

Me: “Yeah… I made her pay for the other one, too, and kept her papers until she paid so she couldn’t flee again.”

(My boss started laughing again, and started to tell me again about customers she’d had that were just as weird. Since then, I always keep a hand on the documents of people I’ve never seen or that look shady, just in case.)

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Your Job Provides Some Killer Stories

, , , | Legal | November 30, 2018

I had a customer call and ask for pricing to make a key for a motorcycle. He brought it in an hour or two later and dropped it off. A lot of locksmiths just simply don’t deal with motorcycles because of the hassle, and we were one of maybe two companies that did within at least a 30-mile radius.

I was usually the guy that got to do these, because I was pretty quick at it. I made a key for the bike, called the guy, and he came and got it.

That night on the news, there was a story about a local Craigslist sale where a guy met another guy to make a sale and got murdered… for a motorcycle. The pics they showed on the news looked exactly like the one I had made a key for.

I called the police when I got to work the next morning and told them about it, and gave them the name and number that the guy had given me when he dropped it off.

So, the guy not only took a stolen bike that was taken in a murder to a local shop, it turned out that he ended up calling the police and talking about buying the bike. Perhaps it was initially to try and cast suspicion away from himself, but he ended up confessing to it.

I just found out today that I won’t be testifying at his trial because he just plead out to 60 years in prison, and therefore won’t be having a trial.

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Hampered By Work Culture

, , , , , , , | Working | November 30, 2018

Back in the 80s, I was new to my career, and one November I started work in the workshop of a fly-by-night company that provided basic computer equipment to the financial sector — little more than glorified monitors, badly designed and cheaply made. The management were as cheap as their product, and were ungenerous and demanding of their staff. However, this was made up for somewhat by the fact that they provided free lunch — toasted sandwiches, etc. — and by the legendary Christmas office party, at which all employees were to receive a lavish hamper, filled with sumptuous seasonal goodies and expensive delicacies such as champagne, caviar, VSOP brandy, cheeses, and the like. I was not getting on too well with my colleagues, some of whom — particularly one supervisor — were a brash and insulting bunch of bullies. No big deal, just a pain to work with.

Come the week of the party, I was taken aside by one of the team seniors and informed that as I had not been at the company long enough — just over a month — I was not entitled to take part in the Christmas party, and I would not be getting a hamper. A little disappointing, I thought, but not far off what I had come to expect from the management there. I shrugged it off, while working on preparing an exit strategy.

Come the week after Christmas, when we were all back at work, the supervisor in question came into the workshop and crowed, “You fell for it, then!” One of the other guys in the office said, “Yeah, we split the contents of the hamper between us. We weren’t wasting it; since you obviously didn’t want it, we all had it.”

Apparently my non-attendance was taken by the higher management as a bit of a slap in the face, and I was not looked upon with favour by the company director — not that I would have had the chance of speaking to him face to face, as one was not encouraged to communicate directly with anyone higher than one’s own direct line manager.

Within a month I had found a new place to work.

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Divorced From Reality, Part 3

, , , , , | Working | November 30, 2018

(I have just been hired on at a large medical office where my husband works as the IT manager. A few of the coworkers know me already, but none in the new area I will be working at. I have come in to sign paperwork and am being introduced to the coworkers in my area when my husband comes in to check on a computer.)

Me: “Hey, sexy man.”

(I go back to talking to my new manager, who knows we are married. One of my new coworkers suddenly becomes unfriendly after he leaves. She makes a point to tell me:)

Coworker: “You should know, he and I are dating. I don’t appreciate you flirting with him.”

(I don’t mean to, but I start laughing hard, and my manager joins in. She and I explain to her that he’s my husband, and has been for over ten years. She gets red in the face and hurriedly goes back to work. When I tell my husband about what she said that evening, he replies:)

Husband: “I don’t know what she was thinking; she’s seen your pictures on my desk. But don’t worry, babe; I would never cheat on you with someone that stupid.”

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