There Are Some Things You Just Don’t Do, Period

, , , , , | Working | October 27, 2017

(I work as a cleaner for a gym. I also have a bladder problem that makes me go to the bathroom a lot. Plus, this day I’m on my period, so I go.)

Boss: “Why were you in the bathroom for so long? I don’t pay you to go!”

Me: *embarrassed* “I have a bladder issue.”

Boss: “Whatever! Clean those mirrors!”

(I go, but the feeling comes back so I run back in the bathroom. I’m finishing up when I see two eyes peeping at me! They’re not [Boss], so I go to him.)

Me: “Did you send someone to peep at me?!”

Boss: “I had no choice! You were in there slacking off! My other employee saw you!”

Me: “I’m on my period! And it’s illegal to peep on someone while they’re on the toilet; it’s called voyeurism!”

Boss: “I didn’t do it! It was my employee!”

(I quit that day. Really, who sends someone to peep at others?)

Not Thinking (About What’s) Inside The Box

, , , , , , | Right | October 26, 2017

(I work in a branch of a fried chicken chain. We do several different boxed burger meals, two of which are very similar. They are almost identical, the only difference being that [Box Meal #1] comes with a piece of chicken and [Box Meal #2] comes with two hot wings. Both are very popular and are ordered very regularly. One day, as I’m wiping tables in the dining area, a woman comes in with one of our boxed meals. She is clearly angry.)

Customer: “Excuse me! You got my order wrong!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry! What was wrong with it? I can fix that for you right away.”

Customer: “This happens every f****** time I come in here. There’s always something wrong. I had to walk back from home for over fifteen minutes!”

(The cursing doesn’t bother me, since around here every other word is a swear word whether the person’s angry or not.)

Me: “If you just tell me what the problem—”

Customer: “You didn’t give me my f****** chicken.”

(She shoves the box into my hands. I open it up to check. Everything that’s included in [Box Meal #1] appears to be in there.)

Me: “Was this a [Box Meal #1]?”

Customer: *crossing her arms* “Yes.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any problems with it. Everything’s in there. The burger, the chi—”

Customer: “Two. Two pieces of chicken.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I’m supposed to have two pieces of chicken.”

Me: “Oh, did you order an extra piece? I’m sorry, I—”

Customer: “No! I ordered a [Box Meal #1] and it comes with two pieces of chicken. Jesus, do you not know how to do your f****** job? Don’t they train you here? F***’s sake.”

(I now realise what she’s talking about.)

Me: “Are you sure you’re not thinking of [Box Meal #2]? That one comes with two hot wings.”

Customer: “Of course I’m f****** sure! I order this all the time! How can a [Restaurant] have staff that doesn’t even f****** know what food they serve.”

Me: “Actually, if you look at our menu board over there you’ll see that the [Box Meal #2] comes with two hot wings and [Box Meal #1] comes with just the one piece of chicken on the bone.”

(I point to our menu board as she squints at it, scrutinising every word. A look of embarrassment washes over her face as she realises her mistake. She turns back to me and smiles.)

Customer: *suddenly cheery* “Oh! I’m sorry. Thank you very much, love. Bye!”

(She turns and walks out of the restaurant as if nothing ever happened.)

Me: “What…?”

Call Back Attack, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | October 26, 2017

(I am going through open case tickets. I find one that has a phone number to a direct line for the client. This isn’t unusual, but it’s not generally a common practice we use since we’re supposed to only call store locations unless told by the store manager, store owner, or our own supervisor. I dial the phone number in the case notes, since it says to call the store manager at the number provided. This all takes place before my work starts recording calls.)

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name] and I’m calling from [Company]. I’m calling to follow up on the case here about [problem]. I see that the last notes in the case—”

Woman: *cuts me off* “I don’t know why you keep calling me! I told the last guy from your company that called that I don’t work at no [Company] and that I don’t wanna be bothered anymore! I’m out with my kid walking and you call me about some f****** issue for [Company] that I don’t work at! I told you before to stop calling my cell!”

Me: “I apologize for the inconvenience we’ve caused you. I’m making notes in the case to not call the number listed so we no longer make this mistake. I hope you have a good day.”

(I hang up and go about my job. A few minutes go by and I look at the incoming calls in the queue; I see the same phone number come up that I just got off of with the angry lady. I wait for the call to come up and I answer it. Sure enough, it’s the same lady.)

Me: “Thanks for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]. Do you have an existing case number to reference?”

Woman: “I don’t know who I just got off the phone with at your d*** company, but you f****** r*****s keep calling my God-d*** cell phone! I’m tired of being harassed by you stupid f*****s!”

Me: “I do apologize for the problems this has caused you, and I see there are notes in the case that mention to never use the phone number we have written down.”

Woman: “I don’t give a f*** what your notes say! You need to stop calling me. I don’t work at [Company] and I’m tired of you a**holes calling me while I’m out with my daughter!”

Me: “It’s noted in the case to not call your number again.”

Woman: “F*** you and your God-d*** company! Don’t you be calling my phone no more!”

Me: *knowing phone calls aren’t recorded* “Ma’am, it’s noted here to not call you anymore and you calling us back after we initially spoke to you, only to berate us, is uncalled for. Quite frankly, you don’t need to be a f****** b**** about it now.”

Woman: *gasps* “Uh… uh…” *gasps again, hangs up, and never calls back*

Cause And Defect

, , , , , , , | Right | October 26, 2017

(I work as a hostess and cashier in a 24-hour diner while in high school. One of the waitresses is basically the epitome of all diner waitresses; she’s in her 40s but looks older, she has a gravelly, whiskey-and-cigarettes voice, she takes no crap from anybody, she’s very popular with all our regulars, and she’s absolutely unflappable. It’s a weekday in the summer, late evening, after the dinner rush but before the bars close and all the drunks come to us, so it is quiet. My manager and I are standing behind the main counter near the cash register talking, and [Waitress] has just refilled coffees for three guys in a booth and is standing there chatting, holding the half-full coffee pot in her right hand. She is mostly talking to the two guys on the left side of the booth, and apparently the guy on the right side thinks he isn’t getting enough attention, because all of a sudden he reaches out and grabs her butt cheek.)

Me: “Oh, my God, [Manager]! Did you see? That guy just groped [Waitress]!”

(The manager heads for the gap in the counter to go intervene — I don’t think he knows what is coming, just that it won’t be pretty — but without even missing a beat in her conversation, [Waitress] just turns her hand over and pours the entire remaining contents of the coffee pot into the groper’s lap.)

Groper: “F***! S***! You b****!”

(At this point, one of his buddies “helpfully” tips his glass of water into the groper’s lap, and my manager is laughing so hard that he has literally fallen on the floor. The ice water bath does cool the guy’s scalded scrotum enough that he is able to get up and come yell at someone less likely to conk him with the coffee pot than [Waitress], and as [Manager] is still on the floor and thus out of sight, that’s apparently going to be me.)

Groper: “Did you see her pour coffee on me? I want her fired!”

(I am a particularly baby-faced 16-year-old at this time, so how he thinks I have the authority to fire anybody, much less this waitress literally old enough to be my mom, is beyond me. I look to my manager for help, but he’s still down, laughing so hard he’s wheezing. Nonetheless, I’m pretty sure he’ll have my back if I need it; he’s like that.)

Me: “Yeah, I saw it, right after I saw you grab her butt. We don’t have to put up with that.”

Groper: “You… I… She can’t! I’ll call the cops! Yeah, that was assault. I’ll call the cops!”

Me: “Well, I guess you could. Or you could just hang around; there’s usually a couple of them dropping in around now for some coffee before they go round up drunks. They like to sit in [Waitress]’s section, so that’ll be convenient. You can tell them your version, and we can tell them how she was so startled her hand slipped after some pervert grabbed her butt, and we’ll see which one they think is assault.”

(At this point the guy just shrieks and stomps out. One of the busboys who’s come out of the back to see what the commotion is about starts to run after him, since he’s walking out on the bill, but our manager, who has managed to regain his feet, waves him off — it’s just coffee, not worth chasing an angry customer into the dark. Meanwhile, the other two guys who were with him come up to the register, and even though they’ve gotten separate checks, they pay his, too, so that works out.)

Groper’s Buddy: “Sorry about him. His girlfriend dumped him, and he’s totally been acting like an a**hole.”

Me: “I think you might have your cause and effect switched around there, but yeah, okay.”

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Smoking Out The Pranksters

, , , , | Learning | October 26, 2017

(My school has recently installed a proper fire alarm system, and naturally, the pranksters love to set it off. It is quite insane; we have alarms every day, sometimes even several times a day. After a while, we get used to it. This particular day is like any other. We are sitting in the class when the alarm starts blaring. No one even blinks; the teacher just raises her voice to be heard over the noise.)

Teacher: *after a few minutes* “This is taking oddly long this time. [Student], go see what’s going on.”

(The student leaves the classroom, but returns very quickly.)

Student: “The hallway is full of smoke! I think this is a real alarm!”

(Luckily, it turned out to have been just one trash can that someone had thrown a cigarette butt into, which was swiftly dealt with by the janitors. However, we weren’t the only class to have had a non-reaction to the alarm; some didn’t even learn about the smoke until later in the day. It was a chilling realisation that had there been an actual fire, everyone in the building could’ve easily died because we didn’t associate the alarms with danger anymore. The prank alarms stopped abruptly after that day.)