Maybe It Will Burst Into Flames Like In “The Hunger Games”

, , , , | Related | February 14, 2019

(My sister is getting married, and since she’s the first of my siblings and cousins to get married, everyone in my family is going all-out to help. My aunt is making the cake, my dad and uncles are setting up the venue, my mom made the invitations and is organizing RSVPs, our other sister is doing the flowers, and I’m making her dress — all things she asked us to do. My sister is… difficult sometimes, and while not quite a bridezilla, she complains a lot about what we’ve done, even though we’re following her instructions to the letter and she insists it’s, “fine, I guess,” and then refuses to elaborate when we ask if there’s anything we should change or do over. All in all, she’s being really passive-aggressive while we’re all busting our butts to help her and keep the cost low, and I’m getting sick of it. It comes to a boil at the bachelorette party, where I hear her talking to one of her friends about how difficult and unhelpful everyone in the family is being, and how her friend should just hire professionals for her wedding. After taking time off work, traveling across the country, working for a week straight, and being told everything is fine and we don’t need to change anything, this is infuriating, and I’m in a foul mood when we get back. To avoid snapping at anyone, I go upstairs to do the last bit of tailoring on the wedding dress and text my boyfriend.)

Me: “Sister is driving me crazy. She’s unhappy with what we’re doing, but she won’t tell us what we’re doing wrong, and then she complains when it isn’t how she wants it. I can’t wait until this is over. I’m finishing the dress now, and screw made with love; she’s getting a dress made with rage and frustration.”

Boyfriend: “That sucks and I’m sorry you’re angry… but I have to say, a dress made of rage sounds pretty bad-a**!”

(It gave me a laugh when I badly needed one, and [Boyfriend] did a good job of keeping me sane when he arrived the next day. Whether she was happy with it or not, the wedding did happen, and I now have a completely awesome brother-in-law to make up for my sister’s shortcomings!)

When You Gotta Go (Away)

, , , | Friendly | February 14, 2019

(I do not like using public bathrooms AT ALL. I will avoid them as much as possible. Much to my dismay, I have IBS and sometimes that does strike at the worst possible time. I am doing some shopping, and right at the beginning, it hits me that I need to use the bathroom and soon. I go to the single-occupancy bathroom and begin to do my business. Suddenly, wild knocking begins.)

Me: “Sorry, it’s occupied.”

(I think I’ve been successful, as it quiets down, until I hear more furious knocking, along with a nonchalant female voice.)

Woman: “HELLO? HELLOOOOOOO! HELLOOOO?”

Me: “It’s occupied, sorry!”

(I raise my voice a bit louder, thinking she didn’t hear me the first time. Then she starts forcefully yanking the door handle, jerking it back and forth as if someone were playing a prank on her and holding the door from the inside. I’m trying to do this in peace, and am getting frustrated now.)

Me: “EXCUSE ME, BUT I’M TRYING TO TAKE A S***. IF YOUR NEED FOR A RESTROOM IS THAT DIRE, GO TO THE MEN’S PRIVATE ROOM OR THE HANDICAPPED ONE ON EITHER SIDE OF THIS ONE!”

(It finally stops, and I finish and come out, and the woman throws her hands up.)

Woman: “FINALLY. What were you doing in there? What if I was going to be sick?”

(I shoot her a dirty look and snap back at her.)

Me: “Then I would assume that you would’ve rushed into one other single bathrooms on either side of this one and gotten sick into them. I told you twice that it was occupied and then what I was doing, and you still yanked the door handle like a stupid maniac. You’re lucky I don’t stand out here while you go in and do the same to you.”

(She just huffed and walked away, instead. I guess she wasn’t going to be sick after all. I get that it’s dire sometimes, but if it’s that dire for you to act like a psycho, just throw caution to the wind and use one of the other bathrooms right next to the one that is being occupied.)

They’re Not Much Nicer By Seventeen, Either

, , , , | Right | February 13, 2019

(I work for a small but successful company that specialises in organizing sweet seventeens — the equivalent of sweet sixteens in the US. The owners of the company are a young married couple, and they routinely perform in the parties as magician and host. On this day I am accompanying them in a meeting with a client, who is a girl about to have her “extra special” sweet seventeen party. No, the parents are not there. They gave her a blank check to organise her own party.)

Girl: *sitting there with her arms crossed* “So, what games will we have at my party?”

Female Owner: “Well, we can have a dancing competition where—“

Girl: *cuts off my boss mid-sentence, rolling her eyes, sighing, and waving a hand* “Next!”

Male Owner: “A cake eating competition is really popular these days, and—“

Girl: *rolls her eyes and waves a hand again* “Ew! My guests? Their clothes are expensive. I’m sure you’re not paying for dry-cleaning if cake gets on them.”

(My eyes go wide at the girl’s rudeness, but my bosses have had a previous meeting with her and are familiar with her attitude. They keep quiet and continue in this manner for a while, until they start discussing having a magic show at the party.)

Girl: *looks my male boss up and down* “You’re the magician? Don’t you have someone else?”

Male Owner: “I’m the only magician we have. Don’t worry; I’ve been performing in parties since I was younger than you are.”

Girl: “You’re going to wear a suit, right? Can you fit in a suit? You’re kind of fat.”

Male Owner: *fake laugh* “I can fit in a suit. I wore one to our wedding.” *gestures to his wife*

Girl: *looks at both of them, snorts* “You married him? Why?!”

(After that, my bosses sent me out of the room because they could see my face was red from anger. I didn’t come back until the meeting was over, but I was told that the girl continued making snide comments about how my female boss made a huge mistake marrying her husband.)

When Your Boss Stands Up, They Stand Down

, , , | Right | February 13, 2019

(We’ve had a doozy of a customer recently. This lady will come in to do her shopping, but if she changes her mind about what she wants to buy, she’ll just leave the unwanted item wherever she is, such as meat with the bread or ice cream with the canned goods. Luckily both times this has happened so far someone has managed to catch her abandoned items before anything went bad. She comes in one night while I’m the manager on duty and my coworker calls me up to handle her transaction.)

Coworker: “The credit card keeps giving an [error code] error. I tried it twice.”

Me: “Hmm… Well, let’s try it one more time and see what happens. Third time’s the charm, right?”

(I take over the register while my coworker moves to another one to handle the growing line. This time, the credit card runs fine and the customer leaves. A few minutes later, after the store is empty, I notice a pile of groceries on the counter.)

Me: “What’s with the groceries? There’s no one in here, right?”

Coworker: “It was the lady that was having card problems. She said she wanted cigarettes on her credit card first, then groceries on her food stamps. Guess she forgot about the groceries after she got her cigarettes.”

(We shake our heads and put everything away, luckily mostly shelf-stable items. The next night…)

Customer: *storms in and points at me* “You! You were here last night, you remember me!”

Me: “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

Customer: “You and that other girl, you charged me three times for my cigarettes! I want my refund!” *throws her credit card on the counter*

Me: “Ah, I’m sorry about that. Unfortunately, I don’t have a record of that and can’t authorize a refund from a previous day—“

Customer: “Well, didn’t you see it when you counted the drawer?!”

Me: “The owner balances the books; if there was an error he’d be the one to find it. But I can take down your contact information and what happened and have him look into it.”

(I manage to wrangle her contact information out of her, with a line growing behind her the whole time and her stopping now and then to insist that I give her a refund and/or the boss’s contact information.)

Customer: “And I need groceries!”

(I disperse the line before she gets back to the register, ring up her groceries, and run her food stamps. Unfortunately, the food stamps machine is old and grumpy and it crashes twice while trying to run her transaction. She then puts in the wrong PIN and it has to run AGAIN. I finally get her rung up and think that’s the last of her for the night.)

Customer: “I forgot something!”

(Once again, the food stamp machine crashes twice while trying to run her card, but at least she puts in her PIN right the first try this time. FINALLY, she’s out the door and I breathe a sigh of relief, leave the note for my boss, and throw away the piece of paper with his contact information that she left behind. And, of course, I go through the store and put away the things she decided she didn’t want. The next day, my boss catches up with me when I’m coming in for my shift.)

Boss: “So, I looked into the credit transactions from your note, and we definitely only charged her once. I called and let her know that the bank should reverse the held charges in a couple of days, and to call me if it didn’t.”

Me: “That’s about what I figured. Thanks.”

Boss: “I also told her that if she changed her mind about buying something when shopping, she had to put it back where she found it.”

Me: *laughing* “Really? What’d she say?”

Boss: “She tried to say that was the cashier’s job and I said that my cashiers weren’t her personal cleaning staff and had other things to do than follow her through the store and put away her abandoned items.”

Me: “You are the best boss ever.”

(Incident over and a fun story to tell to my coworkers, especially the boss’s verbal beat down. Or so I thought. One night when I’m working, a couple of weeks after all of this, the customer comes in again.)

Customer: *smugly as she passes my register* “Your boss gave me two packs of cigarettes!”

(I didn’t really have time for a response, which is probably a good thing because my answer would have been a less-than-polite way of calling her on her bullcrap. It’s going to be an interesting summer…)

Apparently, Appearances Are Everything

, , , , , , | Working | February 13, 2019

(I only eat strictly kosher food; this means that the only establishments I can eat at are kosher-certified. There are only a handful in the city and none are near my work. I am out for dinner with my coworkers at a non-kosher restaurant. Typically when this happens I bring my own meal in a bag and eat with them. I’ve been doing this for six years at many different restaurants, from small Somali joints to huge steakhouse franchises, and have never had an issue until now. There are eight of us at a burger/wings joint and I’m halfway through a deli sandwich when a manager comes up to me.)

Manager: “I’m really sorry, but we don’t allow any outside food here. We are a restaurant.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t eat any of your food due to dietary restrictions.”

Manager: “We can try to accommodate your restrictions, but you are absolutely not allowed to have outside food. We usually have security stop people at the door.”

Me: “Are you a kosher-certified establishment?” *knowing they aren’t*

Manager: “I think we have some kosher food in the kitchen. I’ll go look.”

(I know this is impossible but he leaves before I can say anything. Throughout this my friends have been trying to argue with him asking why this is a big deal, as we’re here with a big group, and he has refused to move. I wait with my half-finished sandwich in my lap like a rebuked boy in school while my friends continue to eat. He comes back fifteen minutes later with another manager in tow.)

Manager #2: “Well, we don’t have kosher food in our kitchen, but you’re not allowed to eat outside food.”

(I’m ready to crawl under the table from embarrassment; I just wanted to sit with my friends and this has turned into a whole ordeal.)

Me: “What do you want me to do, exactly?”

Manager #2: “Well, we really don’t want anyone looking at you and thinking they can bring their own food. Can you eat your food off our plates?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. The plates aren’t kosher.”

(They pause for thinking, while my friends continue to try to convince them to let it slide.)

Manager #2: “If we put a lining on top of the plate, could you eat it, then?”

Me: *not willing to argue any further* “Yes, I could.”

(I’d actually much rather prefer not to do this, as making it look like you’re eating non-kosher food is a no-no. But I just want this experience to end at this point. Another five minutes pass and they bring me a plate with a French fry liner on top of it. I put my sandwich and container of farfel — a Mediterranean dish — on it. Five minutes later the manager comes back AGAIN.)

Manager #2: “I’m sorry, but could you just empty your container out onto the plate? We really don’t want anyone thinking you’re eating outside food.”

(It was incredibly obvious to everyone at the table that this establishment served nothing like the food I was eating. Farfel is a bit messy, and all I had on me was a plastic fork since I’d assumed I’d be eating out of the container. I bit the bullet and dumped it out, and for the rest of the meal I held my container in my lap like it was contraband. The funny thing is that my company, which has 400 people, had come to this establishment in the past for a company event. We pretty much agreed that we would talk to the admin team to make sure that never happened again.)

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