Karen Sounding Like Scratching Plates

, , , | Right | January 20, 2020

(I am talking to a customer on the phone when I pause beside a register to read the ingredients on an item. Apparently, this means that I am opening the register, so two customers — a man and a woman — come over.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not on the register.”

Male Customer: “Then why are you standing here?”

Me: “I’m on the phone with another customer.” *gestures to the phone still in my hand* “You can check out at the registers with the lit numbers.”

Male Customer: “Oh. Sorry.”

Female Customer: “I’m not leaving.”

Me: *gives her a questioning look*

Female Customer: “You heard me. Do your job.”

Me: *points to the phone* “I am.”

(I turn away and leave her standing at the register. A few minutes later, my name is called over the loudspeaker with a request to go back to the same register. I do so and see a manager standing beside the woman, who looks quite pleased with herself.)

Manager: “[My Name], please ring out this woman.”

Female Customer: “If you don’t, I’ll call corporate and tell them what you did.”

Me: “[Manager], can I talk to you for a minute?”

Manager: “After you’re done with her, you can come to see me in the office.”

(The woman unloads her purchases as I sign on the register.)

Female Customer: “You deserve this. Aww. Poor little girl. Someone made you do your job.”

(There are two small ceramic plates, generally used under potted plants, with a piece of tissue paper between them.)

Me: “Do you want the paper between these plates?”

Female Customer: “If you had just done what I told you to do in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Me: “Ma’am, the paper?”

Female Customer: “No. You could have just checked me out and– What are you doing?!”

Me: “You said no.”

Female Customer: “You’re going to scratch them!”

Me: “I asked if you wanted the papers; you said no.”

Female Customer: “I did not! I’ll be sure you’re fired. You’ve been horrible this entire time.”

Me: “Your total is [total].”

Female Customer: “And now you’re trying to push me out the door!

Me: “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Female Customer: “Your generation is so disrespectful!”

Me: “Cash or card, ma’am?”

Female Customer: *swipes her card* “Everywhere I go, terrible service!”

Me: *handing her the receipt* “Maybe it’s not the associates.”

(I walked away, once again leaving the women at the register. I did have a talk with my manager. She sided with the customer at first, saying I should have opened the register. When I told her what the woman said when I was checking her out, she changed her mind.)

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They’re Not Entitled To Any YOLO

, , , , , | Friendly | January 20, 2020

I am an engineer for a German car manufacturer. I fly to northern Sweden several times each year for car testing — we drive on a frozen lake to test in cold and slippery conditions. The airport there is very small and it would be pretty complicated to get there with normal scheduled flights, so there is a company that charters several flights each week directly from Germany to this airport.

Up there in Sweden, there is almost nothing. There is an igloo hotel and a biathlon track, most major European car manufacturers have testing tracks there, and then there are some “driving experience” hotels which provide drifting courses on frozen lakes for very rich people. So, our chartered planes are usually filled with 85% grumpy engineers, 10% normal tourists who want to ski or hike, and 5% rich, entitled a**holes.

Since the planes only fly once every two or three days and the airport is so small, they will usually wait for late passengers. We are sitting in the plane after two hard weeks of work — we usually work almost twice as many hours up there — and they announce that they are waiting for three passengers. Over one hour later, they finally arrive. We see them through the window approaching the plane. There are three 18-year-old guys with sunglasses and Gucci swag. Then, they stop and take selfies in front of the plane for about five minutes.

They enter the plane and an engineer says to them, “What the f*** was that? You come one hour late and make 200 people wait, and then you take your time for some f****** selfies?!” 

Their response is, “YOLO!”

Further down the floor, one of them suddenly screams, “Why did you do that, you a**hole??” Apparently, someone tossed some water or soda over their Gucci swag. Several people in the plane answer with, “YOLO!” They complained to the stewardess and she says, “Sorry, I didn’t see anything. Please don’t curse at other passengers,” and walks away.

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Clean Water, Not Dirty Bombs

, , , , , , | Right | January 19, 2020

Some classmates and I were on a month-long expedition through northern Argentina. Prior to our journey, we were equipped with iodine to purify our drinking water from taps and streams, which came in dropper bottles. We were in the Buenos Aires airport ready to go back home to see our families.

After successfully going through airport security, we filled our Nalgenes with water from the restroom tap, gathered in the boarding area, and began passing around the iodine to drop into our bottles.

Not ten minutes later, airport security evacuated everyone from the gate to go through the checkpoint they had just set up again. We had to dump out our freshly-purified water.

After going through the checkpoint again, we realized why they might have set up additional security. Thirteen foreigners suspiciously putting unknown chemicals into water bottles doesn’t look good. We brought the iodine into the bathroom for the next round of purification, which still looked odd to the bystander, but was a little more discreet.

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Getting An F-Grade

, , , , , , | Learning | January 19, 2020

I am an American working as a foreign English teacher. Most of the two-hour classes for the three older age groups are done by two teachers. One teacher teaches the first hour, and then there is a fifteen-minute break followed by a second hour with a different teacher. 

For one of my higher-level classes for the seven-to-ten-year-old age group, I am the first teacher; however, my co-teacher is unavailable this day. This is not uncommon, and usually, another teacher would be assigned that slot to substitute teach for that day. However, in this instance, I am the only teacher who has that hour free and is qualified to teach that level. As such, I find myself in the rare position of covering my own class. 

The students are not informed when they are having a substitute teacher, so after my hour is done, I gather my materials for the second half of today’s lesson. I walk back upstairs, open the door, and see seven surprised and confused faces wondering why I have returned when they were expecting my co-teacher. One of my ten-year-old students decides to vocalize his surprise with a western colloquialism he has picked up.

“What the f***?!”

Well… at least he used it correctly.

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Unable To “Let It Go”

, , , | Right | January 17, 2020

(It’s the opening weekend of “Frozen II,” and we are being absolutely slammed. Management and corporate have forced us to cancel about half of our other movies in order to add more showtimes for the film, and they are all selling out. Our usher is so swamped cleaning so many disgustingly messy “Frozen II” theaters that he literally had a panic attack. Box office lines are going out the front door and spilling into the parking lot the entire day. And so many people are coming through concession so quickly that even with extra staff called in and an extra popcorn popper running, the concession staff can’t make popcorn fast enough to keep up with the demand, so there’s a wait on popcorn. It’s absolute chaos. I’m coming in for my mid-shift. I’ve literally just walked in the front door and haven’t even had a chance to clock on yet when someone runs up to me screaming…)

Customer: “YOU G**D*** PIECE OF S***! YOU’D BETTER F****** FIX THIS NOW!”

(I’m absolutely shocked, as this came out of nowhere and I don’t even know what’s happening.)

Me: “Um… I, um… I don’t know…”

Customer: “PIECE OF S*** C***SUCKER MOTHERF*****, DO YOUR F****** JOB, A**HOLE!”

Me: *honestly frightened* “Sir, I… I literally just got here, and I’m not even clocked in. I don’t even know what the problem is.”

Customer: “YOU F****** LIAR, SACK OF S***!”

(He literally stands there for a full minute while I wait for my shift to start so I can clock on, screaming every obscenity I’ve ever heard at me. I clock in and literally run into the back, with him trailing behind me screaming the entire time. I manage to go into the employee break-room and slam the door behind me. My manager is inside, shaking her head.)

Me: *frustrated* “I don’t know what the h*** happened, but some guy is out there losing his mind.”

Manager: “Oh, I know. That’s why I came back here. I couldn’t deal with it after five minutes.”

Me: “What’s going on?”

Manager: “He bought tickets for Frozen II for the wrong theater, and got mad we wouldn’t let him in for free here — which we can’t even do, because all the showtimes are sold out, anyway.”

(I went out only to be screamed at some more before he finally left around ten minutes later. And that set the mood for the entire day. I’ve never been yelled at or berated as many times as I was that day.)

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