Telling You The Long And The Shorts Of It

, , , , | Right | January 19, 2019

(I am about nineteen, working in a retail shop that carries some clothing items and sports equipment. In the sports equipment area, we also have a bench where we work on customers’ broken equipment. To my left, overlooking the clothing area, is the dressing room, and to my right is a back hallway. A customer of about sixty or older walks in and begins looking at shorts.)

Customer: *tries two dressing room doors, locked and in use by other customers, and turns to me* “Hey, these doors are locked. Where can I try these shorts on?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. There must be a few customers still trying things on. It should be just a few minutes before they’re done, and then I will open one up for you.”

Customer: *grumbles and goes back to looking at shorts*

(Five minutes later:)

Customer: “Hey, these dressing rooms are still locked. I’m about ready to just go in the back hallway over there and just try my shorts on in there, instead.”

(He chuckled and walked away again. I just laughed awkwardly, thinking how crazy that idea was, and then went back to working on a customer’s equipment. Five minutes later, the customer walked out of the back hallway wearing the shorts he’d been carrying, with the pants he’d been wearing draped over his arm. I was stunned and speechless.)

Totally Estúpido! Part 6

, , , | Friendly | January 19, 2019

(My mom and I are sitting while we wait to send a package of documents. There are two people before us, a man and a woman.)

Man: *to service representative* “Do you speak English?”

Sales Rep: *in Spanish* “No, sir, I’m sorry.”


(The woman ended up serving as an interpreter and they left.)

Mom: *to me* “I wonder if this is the kind of man that insists that foreigners in the US must learn English?”

Totally Estupido, Part 5
Totally Estupido, Part 4
Totally Estupido, Part 3

Doesn’t Need A Bank Or A Post Office But A Hospital

, , , , , , | Healthy Right | January 19, 2019

(I have been helping a patron set up a direct debit.)

Me: “And is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Patron: “Yes, can I have a packet of first-class stamps?”

Me: “Oh, I’m afraid we don’t offer stamps, but there is a post office just down the road. Just head right as you step outside.”

(Her head does this awkward jerk and she looks around in confusion.)

Patron: “This isn’t a post office?”

Me: “No, it’s a bank.”

(She looks furious, but before she can say anything else, she collapses on the floor. I’m the closest first-aider so I go into action. The door security guard calls 999. It looks like she’s having an epileptic fit, so I try my best to work with my training. I check her handbag for an identity card, but can’t find one. The guard walks over and tells me EMTs are coming just as our manager answers the phone. He looks so confused, but he addresses us.)

Manager: “What’s her name?”

Me: “What? How is that relevant?”

Manager: “I’ve got one of the paramedics on the phone. She’s asking.”

Me: *confused* “[Patron].”

Manager: “It’s [Patron]…” *to me* “She says to put a cushion under her head and check her handbag.”

Me: “Already done. I couldn’t find anything. I don’t know if she’s epileptic.”

(He tells the paramedic.)

Manager: “Was there anything drug-related in the bag? Pills? She’s asking for a colour.”

(I grab the bag and check. There is a small, clear bag in one of the side pockets. I don’t touch it but I can see small, round tablets.)

Me: “They’re pink.”

Manager: “Pin– Oh, they’re already here.”

(Literally as he says this, the EMTs burst through the door, with the woman my manager was speaking to hanging up.)

EMT: “Sorry, once we knew it was [Patron], we knew we had to hurry.”

(I surrender her to the EMTs. After a few minutes and an IV, she comes around. She is laughing and quite jolly with them as they take her away on a gurney.)

EMT: “Thanks for the help. I’ll just need to ask some questions.”

Me: “Sure, but how did you know it was her?”

EMT: “Sweetie, I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve been called out for her. Now we just take it as standard to call ahead when we’re told it’s a middle-aged woman.”

(I really have to commend them. I can’t imagine having to deal with the same woman time and time again as she slowly destroys herself.)

This Is Why Charities Can’t Do Nice Things

, , , , | Right | January 18, 2019

(I work for a coffee chain, and we regularly donate a large coffee carafe to local schools for events if the event is non-profit, and reserved ahead of time. One particular customer comes into the store asking for the carafe donation, which we gladly agree to, on the provision that she call again a week before the event so we can ensure she gets the coffee. She is delighted and leaves, and we don’t hear from her again for a full month. Then, out of the blue, she calls my boss.)

Customer: “Hi! My event is tonight, and I’m going to need the coffee donations.”

Boss: “Okay, but with such short notice, it might not be ready until after six pm.”

Customer: “But the event starts at seven!”

(My boss talks her off the hysterical ledge she has quickly reached and finalizes the details.)

Customer: “Oh, thank you so much! This will be great! So, we’ll just need them every night this week for the whole week, and it’ll be good.”

(She had mentioned one night only, and now was insisting on a week. Keep in mind this is something FREE that we are doing. My boss freaked and insisted that we needed them back the next day, as we had a corporate event at the end of the week. After much cajoling, the customer promised, slightly upset, and hung up. The next evening she called back, and reported that she wouldn’t be returning them until the following Monday, as she was “too busy.” No one was pleased.)

Depositing Some Colorful Truths

, , | Right | January 18, 2019

(I’m a front desk agent at a hotel and am a young, white woman. A guest comes to check in, and he is a black man. It is our company policy to ask for a security deposit that will be blocked on the guest’s credit card and covers the room rate — if not paid yet — and any incidentals until the checkout. I explain this to the guest, but he is not having it and doesn’t want to leave anything.)

Guest: “I have never heard of a policy like that, and I stay in hotels all around the world!”

Me: “All of the hotels in our company have this policy, and so do a lot of other international hotels. I am very sorry, but I am not able to check you in without a security deposit.”

Guest: *screaming so all other guests can hear him* “You are only asking me for all that money because I am black! You are being racist!”

Me: “Actually, it’s because last time you left without paying.”

(He paid, both the deposit and his last stay’s bill.)

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