The Badly Behaving One? It Is Definitely Not You

, , , , , , , | Friendly | October 11, 2017

(I share a name with a few other girls in my grade.)

Girl #1: “Hey, [My Name]!”

Me and Girl #2: “Yeah?”

Girl #1: *staring me directly in the eyes* “It’s not you, you f****** attention w****. Why do you think it would ever be you? It’s always you! Just this once, it’s not you, and you can’t f****** deal with that, can you? You little b****, you just do whatever you want to do and grab whatever measly bits of attention you can scrounge up. Well, you know what? I don’t care. I truly don’t. You can go die in a hole, because it will never. Be. You.” *turns to [Girl #2]* “Anyway! [Classmate #1] is apparently dating [Classmate #2] now! Isn’t that fantastic?!”

Girl #2: “What the living f***, [Girl #1]?”

(I more or less walked away with my jaw on the ground. There’s gotta be a nicer way to tell a person you’re not talking to them.)

Doesn’t Know How To Politely Decline

, , , , | Working | October 11, 2017

(I am 23, at an interview for my job as a technical service rep for a copier company, which means I would go to the customers in the field to fix copiers. They have 21 people complete a written test. Of those, seven are chosen for interview and at the end, one is hired, all within the same day. Of the first 21, I recognize one of my former classmates, who was somewhat on the “wild side.” Since I’m fresh out of an industrial electronics course, the technical tests go easy. Then the interview: Two men are bombarding me with questions.)

Interviewer: “I have you and someone else, equal; I don’t know which one to choose. I go see one of your pals and I ask him why should I choose you over the other one; what would they answer?”

Me: *thinks for a moment* “Because I’m the best of the two.”

(It’s a job interview. You have to sell yourself. They silently take some notes. To me, it seems they simply want to know how sure of myself I am. That is fine. A few hours later, I get a call that I have the job. A couple of weeks later, I happen to see that former classmate. He comes to me and congratulates me on the job.)

Former Classmate: “Did they asked you that weird question about you and someone else being equal and stuff?”

Me: “Yes.”

Former Classmate: “What did you answer?”

Me: “That I was the best of the two. Why? What did you answer?”

Former Classmate: “I told them to ask me questions that made f****** sense.”

Me: *dumbfounded* “Wow… Well, see ya.”

(About a week later, I happen to meet one of the men that was interviewing. I ask him if he remembers someone answering something like that to that question.)

Interviewer: “Yes, I do remember.”

Me: “What did you do?”

Interviewer: “We put our pen down, asked a few questions to be polite, and as soon as he left the room, we put his file down the trashcan. Can you imagine someone with this behavior dealing with customers?”

(For the record, I worked for that company for over ten years before being laid off following cutbacks. As for that other guy, although he had somehow managed to get a diploma in industrial electronics, he found a job as a janitor at the local mall.)

The Alarm Tag Wasn’t Designed For This Alarming Situation

, , , , , | Right | October 11, 2017

(I work in a big retail store. Our clothes have those annoying plastic tags on them that require a cashier to slide them into a magnetic setup at the registers to remove them. This happens one day as I am working the returns counter, and an elderly woman approaches me.)

Customer: “I bought pants here, and they didn’t remove that alarm tag. Can you do that?”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry about that.”

(I see that she has no shopping bag, but I think perhaps they are in her car or purse.)

Me: “I can take care of that for you right here. It is store policy that I ask to see a receipt before removing any tags, though.”

(The woman places her purse on the counter and takes the receipt out. I can see there is, indeed, a pair of pants on her receipt.)

Me: “Okay, I can see the pants here on the receipt, so if you want to go ahead and bring them in I can certainly take care of that for you.”

Customer: “Perfect! Where should I stand? Should I sit up here?” *gestures to my counter*

Me: “Pardon?

(The woman then lifts up her leg a bit, and I can very clearly see the nub of the tag on the seam of her pants, near the hem.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t remove the tag with them still on you. That’s quite impossible with our setup.”

Customer: “You mean I need to take them off?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. I have no way to remove that tag while you are wearing them. You would have to come back with them not on so I can take off that tag.”

Customer: “Okay, then.”

(She steps back, and I assume she is going to leave and come back, when, I kid you not, this woman then proceeds to unzip her pants and starts to remove them.)

Me: “Ma’am? I’m sorry, what are you doing?”

Customer: “You said you can’t get it off while I’m wearing them. What does it look like I’m doing?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t have you do that, here, in the middle of the store.”

(I begin looking around now because there is a line behind her, and I am nervous that at any point my manager will come around, and that I will somehow be blamed for this woman trying to strip down.)

Customer: “Well, how the f*** are you going to get it off?”

Me: “You will have to come back on another day with them not on?”

Customer: “That’s a waste of my time! I came all the way here, just to find out you can’t take this tag off! You deserve to be fired for lying to the elderly!”

(She stormed off. I saw her again a week later, wearing the same pants, with the same alarm tag still on.)

Is He Still Dead?

, , , , | Working | October 10, 2017

Me: “Hello, may I speak to [Client], please?”

Receptionist: “[Client] is dead.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Receptionist: “[Client] died.”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

(I end the call and go to my boss.)

Me: “[Boss], I can’t get [Client]. According to his office, he has passed away.”

Boss: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes, I asked twice.”

Boss: “Well, call them again to make sure.”

(I had to call again. It was awkward.)


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Urine Trouble Now

, , , , | Right | October 10, 2017

(My style is punkish, with colorful hair and piercings. It’s a slow day and I am working the counter on my own when an angry, rather posh-looking customer comes up to me.)

Customer: “Go tell your manager to buy some urinal cakes. Here is 10€, since it seems that your restaurant can’t afford them!”

Me: *confused* “Uhm… Okay?”

(I refuse to take the money, since he’s made his point. He then throws it on the counter.)

Customer: “Take it and go to your manager!”

(As he leaves the counter new customers arrive, so I temporarily put the money in my pocket and take their orders first. While I am quickly serving the last customer, my manager joins me at the counter. Before I can say a word, the angry customer is back.)

Customer: *to the manager* “Did she give you the 10€ for the urinal cakes? Your toilets are really dirty and disgusting, and you should do something about it!”

Manager: “I am sorry that our restrooms seem to be dirty, sir. I will go and check them myself. But what money are you talking about?”

Customer: *to the manager* “I gave her 10€ and told her to give them to you, so you can buy some urinal cakes!” *to me* “You little piece of s***! You put the money in your own pocket without even telling him!”

Me: “I was going to tell him, but then I had to serve new customers. Here: you can have the money back. I didn’t even want to take it in the first place, but you made me.”

Customer: *looking me up and down* “It seems that you are in need of all the money you can get. So, keep it, you poor piece of s***! What a crappy place!”

(He then storms out of the restaurant. My manager takes me to the back to ask what just happened there. I tell him the whole story, afraid that I’m in trouble for this.)

Manager: *laughing* “What an idiot! Just keep the money!”

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