Hair-Curlingly Bad Behavior

, , , , | Friendly | February 15, 2018

(I’m just finishing checking out at a grocery store and I have my son with me. He’s just under two years old, loves everyone, and has very distinctive blonde curls in his hair. He is sitting happily in the seat of the shopping cart. I am in the process of paying when I hear an older woman’s voice behind me.)

Woman: “Oh, don’t you just have the most amazing curls?!”

(I turn around and see her with both of her hands in my son’s hair.)

Me: “Um, ma’am, please don’t touch my son.”

Woman: *not removing her hands or even looking at me* “But his curls are just so delicious!”

Me: “Thank you, but I’m not comfortable with strangers touching his hair.”

Woman: “He doesn’t mind! Do you? Do you? Can I have a curl? Can I?” *pinches one of his curls between her fingers*

Me: “He’s two. I’ve asked you nicely not to touch him. Please stop.”

(At this point she finally takes her hands off him.)

Woman: *huffy* “Well, there’s no need to be rude about it.”

200 Miles Away Isn’t Enough

, , , , , | Learning | February 15, 2018

Me: *answering the phone* “Hello, [School].”

Woman: “Could you please tell me if [Student] is in school today?”

Me: “Are you a relative?”

Woman: “I’M HIS MOTHER!”

Me: *holding the receiver away from my ear* “All right. Just give me a moment.”

Woman: “I need to make sure that useless, good-for-nothing, piece-of-s*** father of his is keeping his upkeep of our son!”

Me: *after searching* “Could you confirm his name again, please?”

Woman: *sighs* “[STUDENT]!”

Me: “There’s only one student by that name in our records.”

Woman: “Is he in?”

Me: “No, Miss. He—”

Woman: “THAT F****** A**HOLE! I’LL CHOP HIS NUTS OFF! HE—”

Me: *interrupting* “Miss [Woman], the reason he isn’t in is because he left. Three years ago.

Woman: “What?!”

Me: “He finished his education with us three years ago.”

Woman: “Then, where is he?”

Me: “It says he went to [University 200 miles away].”

Woman: *pause* “THAT UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF S***!” *hangs up*

Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 6

, , , , , | Right | February 15, 2018

(I am in the diner of a popular international home goods store. They recently added an espresso machine to the drink station, a few feet away from the registers, so now customers can get free refills on lattes, cappuccinos, and americanos just like the regular coffee. It is a very popular addition. The drink takes a few moments to steam the milk and dispense, so a small line has formed. One fellow in his forties keeps sighing and rolling his eyes as each order is dispensed, clearly impatient. The young woman in front of him gives him a raised eyebrow, but says nothing. Then the machine runs out of beans on the customer in front of her, and says to wait for an attendant.)

Man: “Oh, my God! It’s like I’m in the Twilight Zone!” *yelling towards registers* “Hey! Your machine’s broken down again!

(The young woman in front of him rolls her eyes.)

Man: “I know, right? This machine broke down earlier, too, and even when it works, it takes forever. Now we have to wait for someone to come out and fix it, and then, like clockwork, it breaks down again! I don’t know why they insult us with this piece of junk. It’s ridiculous!”

Woman: *snapping* “You’re ridiculous!”

Man: “Excuse me?!”

Woman: *turning on him* “First of all, each drink takes like fifteen seconds to make, but it sure feels longer listening to you constantly huffing back there. Also, I’m no mechanic, but I’m pretty sure it’s not broken down. It just doesn’t have a magical infinite supply of coffee beans, so if you can handle just waiting for a freaking second you can get your $3 bottomless drink that you somehow still manage to complain about.”

(The man turns red and goes quiet for a moment. The attendant comes during this exchange and goes about refilling the machine, pretending not to overhear.)

Attendant: “Sorry about that, folks. Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Woman: “Not at all. Thank you.”

Man: “Excuse me! Does she work here? She was very rude to me just now.”

Woman: “No, I don’t.”

Attendant: *shakes head and walks away quickly*

Man: “What’s your name? Where do you work?”

Woman: “None of your f****** business.”

Other Man: *who’s been at the front of line* “Oh, look! It only took a moment, and we can have our nearly-instant luxury again. Can we stop having a fit, now?”

(The man in back of the line huffs again as the customer in front orders a latte, then, with an evil grin, hits the button again for a cappuccino, which fills it to the rim of the cup.)

Woman: “A double? Ooh, that’s genius! Well, why not? It is free, after all!”

Other Man: *brightly* “Why not, indeed!”

(Their four drinks combined force the angry guy in the back to wait about a whole minute, and he looks ready to explode. The man finally snatches his drink and stomps off, red-aced. The woman laughs and looks over at where I’ve been listening discreetly and says:)

Woman: “Oh, man, I love being off the clock.”

Related:
Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 5
Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 4
Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself, Part 3

They “Fired” Themselves

, , , , | Working | February 14, 2018

(Not long before this story, I took over as store manager. A kiosk opens up in the mall directly outside of my department store. The salespeople are rude and loud, and they aggressively harass customers passing by. They escalate to actually coming into my store to try to sell to customers shopping inside. After several emails to the mall management about this issue go unanswered, I go speak to them myself.)

Me: “I have a written report of every incident. I’m not going to put up with this any longer.”

Mall Management: “Quit pretending this is a big deal. They are only there for six months. Work it out between you and them.”

Me: “This is your responsibility, not mine, to fix.”

Mall Management: “No, and frankly, I don’t want you coming back here to whine unless they set your store on fire!”

(I forward a complaint to my higher-ups, and instruct staff to alert us when there is an issue. I find out that one of the kiosk workers has been using the men’s room downstairs, but I am not allowed to bar them from doing so. The whole time, they are still harassing my customers from the kiosk, yelling into the store. Then, a few weeks later, a smoke alarm goes off. An employee responds to find a small fire, which he puts out with an extinguisher, but the fire department still has to respond. A half-hour later, I walk into the mall management office.)

Me: “I need to complain about the kiosk employees.”

Mall Management: “I told you not to bother me unless–“

(His eyes go wide. A fireman is walking in behind me.)

Me: “Right, and it turns out one of the employees was smoking in our bathroom, set off the smoke detector, panicked, and threw the cigarette into the waste paper basket, catching it on fire. Now, can we discuss how you are going to solve this and the costs incurred?”

(The kiosk’s lease was terminated.)

Seriously Off Her Meds

, , , , | Healthy | February 14, 2018

(I’m a pharmacist at a small, but very busy, chain store. I am working the register along with one of the technicians, due to us being understaffed.)

Me: “Hi! How are you doing today, ma’am?”

Customer: “Israel!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “Israel!”

(At the pharmacy register, in order to pick up a prescription, we must be provided with the first and last name, along with the date of birth.)

Me: “Is that your name, ma’am?”

Customer: “Israel!”

Me: *getting frustrated since there is a line behind her going up two aisles* “May I please have your name?”

Customer: “Israel! My name is Israel!”

Me: “Okay, thank you. May I please have your last name?”

Customer: “Israel!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I misunderstood. I thought your first name was Israel. Could I please have your first name, then?”

Customer: “Israel! My name is Israel! What do you not understand? This is ridiculous! I demand to speak to the pharmacist!”

Me: *trying not to scream* “I’m very sorry, ma’am. I am the pharmacist. I just need your first and last name in order to view your profile. Could you please give me your first name followed by your last?”

Customer: *she is now screaming at this point* “This is unbelievable!”

(She looks at the people in line behind her for support. They all give me a sympathetic look, instead.)

Customer: “From now on, I’m taking my business to [Other Retail Chain Pharmacy]!”

Me: “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. Could I please have your first and last name, in order to speed up the transaction? We are quite busy today.”

Customer: “Israel! My name is Israel! Israel [Last Name].”

(Now that I finally have her first and last name in the system, I am prompted with the screen that asks for the date of birth.)

Me: “Thank you, ma’am. And could I have your date of birth, please?”

Customer: “What kind of pharmacy is this?! What will you want next? My social security number?!”

Me: “That won’t be necessary, ma’am.”

(By this time, the technician at the register next to me has gone through about three patients, while I am still with this lady.)

Customer: “My birthday is [date]!”

Me: “All right, thank you. It looks like we have three prescriptions ready for you. Let me go get those for you.” *I fetch the prescriptions and finish the transaction fairly normally* “All right, ma’am. Before you leave, do you have any questions about the medications?”

Customer: “Yes. I would like to speak to the pharmacist!”

Me: “I am the pharmacist, ma’am.”

Customer: “No, you’re not!”

Me: “I can assure you that I am, in fact, the pharmacist, ma’am.”

Customer: *all disgruntled* “Well… Well… I want to speak to the pharmacist who was here yesterday! Where is he?!”

Me: “That was our other pharmacist.”

Customer: “Well, I demand to speak to him! Go fetch him!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. He isn’t here today.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I have nothing but trouble at this store!”

Me: “I’m sorry that you feel that way, ma’am. I can answer any questions that you have about the medication, though.”

Customer: “No! I’ll just die! No one can tell me how to take this medication! You don’t even have a pharmacist here! I’m going to die because of your incompetence!”

Me: “Ma’am, as I’ve said, I am the pharmacist, and I would be more than happy to walk you through the proper way to take your medications. If you would like, you can come back tomorrow, too, and the other pharmacist will be here.”

Customer: “Fine! Show me, since you think I’m too stupid to take my own medications!”

Me: “I never said you were too stupid, ma’am.”

Customer: “Yes, you did! But whatever. Show me!”

(I instructed the lady on how to take her medications, and she finally walked away. Shortly after, the store manager came down to the pharmacy asking what happened. I asked what he was referring to and he stated that a lady was complaining that I “verbally and mentally abused her.”)

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