Have You (Bapho)Met?

, , , , , , | Right | January 13, 2018

(I wear a pentacle necklace with Baphomet, the “Satan” goat, every day. Today I’m in a craft store looking at nursery fabrics. I visit this store a lot and I know the basic layout. Two middle-aged women wearing crosses approach me.)

Customer #1: “Excuse me, where are your Velcro strips?”

(I don’t work there. I’m wearing jeans, a Slipknot t-shirt, and arm warmers with belts on them. It couldn’t be farther from the store’s uniform.)

Me: “Oh, do you see the big racks with the big rolls of foam on them? The Velcro should be on a shelf right across from them.”

Customer #1: “Oh, thank you, sweethea—” *notices my necklace, crosses herself and the forehead of her companion, and shuffles away*

(I ignore them and continue looking at the fabric. The manager is manning the cutting counter a few feet away and I overhear them talking to him.)

Customer #1: “Excuse me, ma’am, but I want to file a formal complaint about your employee over there.” *points to me*

Manager: “Uh… Which one, ma’am?”

Customer #2: “That one, right there! The fat one!”

Customer #1: “She’s wearing the ugliest, most sinful necklace. She’s obviously a heathen that’s going to burn in the deepest depths of Hell, and I refuse to shop here while a servant of the Devil is here.”

(The manager stands there, confused and disturbed.)

Customer #2: “Are you just going to stand there staring at her or are you going to tell her to leave?”

Manager: “Well, ma’am, she… Uh…” *pause* “Well, if you continue with your shopping, we’ll handle the situation.”

Customer #1: “Good! I would expect that from a God-fearing Christian.”

(The women moved on happily and I never heard a word from the manager, even after having him cut some fabric for me. The cashier even complimented my necklace!)

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My Bark Is Worse Than My Gigabyte

, , , , , , , | Right | January 13, 2018

(I work in cell phone sales at a major department store. Although I work for a different company than the department store, we don’t have our own section; we’re stuck back in electronics. We are expected to help with electronics sales, despite not having keys for any of the locked cases. By the time this customer rolls around, my coworker is on hour two of his “fifteen minute break,” I’ve had two elderly ladies who believed in the “if I scream, I get discounts” policy, another guy who took it personally when he forgot his receipt, and almost no questions for cell phones. Finally, this customer comes up with a question I can answer.)

Customer: “Hi. I have 32 GB of space on my phone and it’s getting full. Do you know if my phone can take a memory card?”

Me: *genuinely upbeat at the polite tone he puts on* “Well, let’s take a look. May I see your phone?”

(He hands me his phone. I take off the case and start looking it over to see if the memory slot would be behind the back case or the slot where the SIM card goes, and he suddenly gets angry.)

Customer: “The slot is right here.” *points at the SIM card holder, almost knocking the phone out of my hand*

Me: “All right, one moment.”

(I go to pop out the little drawer and slide it out, seeing that there is indeed a space for a memory card. As I’m doing this, he tries to yank the phone out of my hands, screaming:)

Customer: “NO, IT’S HERE!” *he causes the tiny SIM card to go flying to the floor*

Me: “I’m so sorry! Let me get that…”

(As I’m rooting around for the card, I check a paper folder near where it fell and see it’s not there. The entire time I’m looking on the carpet he keeps screaming:)

Customer: “IT’S IN HERE! IT’S IN HERE!”

(He picks up the folder and tries to shove it in my face. I try explaining I looked there, then look again to appease him, but he is still screaming. Finally, I find it across the floor from where the folder was, nowhere near it.)

Me: “There we are. So, it does look like you have a slot for additional memory. Now, your phone only allows an extra [GB amount] of space, so—”

Customer: “I already knew there was a slot for it! I asked you how much space I could add!”

Me: “Well, you can go up to [GB amount] on this phone—”

Customer: “I knew that! I’m asking if I can transfer photos on there!”

Me: *at this point, I am no longer smiling, but my voice is still in customer service mode* “Why, yes, you can, and in fact, we can set it up so music and other media can be backed up on there as well—”

Customer: *now talking down to me like I’m the biggest idiot on the planet* “Just. Answer. My. Question. How much will this cost?”

Me: “Well, we can walk over to the storage devices and I can show you our selection—”

Customer: “That would be great. Where are they?”

Me: “Right this way.”

(I turn to walk two aisles down to the storage devices, make it all the way there, and realize he isn’t behind me. I wait a moment in case he went around the other way, then step back out of the aisle in case he didn’t see which one I went into, then I finally wander back in case he just left. Instead, he’s standing by the TVs, watching a kid’s toy promo. At this point, I’ve had it. I march right back up to him, and he turns to see me.)

Me: “You know, if you want to look at the storage devices, you have to actually walk the f*** over there yourself, right? This is a TV, not a memory card. So, are you going to f****** follow me, or can I get back to my job?”

(As soon as I said it, all my anger washed away and I was left in horror, but apparently it worked. He stood staring at me, completely silent, and then followed me over to the memory section. I showed him which ones he could use for his phone, he asked me about the prices, then declined getting one that day and left peacefully. He didn’t report me, I never got in trouble, and I felt much better after that.)

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No Smooth Ways To Get Out Of The Exam

, , , , , , , | Learning | January 12, 2018

(I work in a local school, not as a teacher, but my position means I’m regularly helping out students in classes across multiple subjects and grade levels. I am a man. This happens one day in a grade-nine math class.)

Me: *walking past [Female Student #1], noticing she is falling a bit behind the average question students are up to* “[Female Student #1], do you know what to do?”

Female Student #1: “What? Oh, yeah, sure. Um, sir, can I ask you something?”

Me: “Sure, what can I help you with?”

Female Student #1: *pushing one of her legs out from under her desk into the walk-space* “Feel my leg.”

Me: *absolutely taken aback* ” Um… No. Why?”

Female Student #1: *actually sounding a little annoyed* “Sir, just touch it. It’s smooth.”

Me: “I’m not going to do that. How about we get back to doing question—”

(Interrupting:)

Female Student #1: “Touch my leg!”

(At this point the students classmate chimes in.)

Female Student #2: “Just feel her leg, sir. I did; it’s really smooth.”

(This has officially reached “too weird” levels.)

Me: “I believe you.”

(I just walk away to another table of students. To my amazement, I hear [Female Student #1] talking to the class teacher.)

Female Student #1: “…and is refusing to touch it. Come on, miss! You do it!”

Teacher: *giving me a “WTF is going on?” look* “Yes, it’s smooth, [Female Student #1]. Can you do your math now?”

Female Student #1: “Can you tell my Mr. [My Name] to do it, too?”

(At this point the teacher and I lost it in fits of laughter. The ridiculousness of the situation was just too much. After class we found out the student had had her legs waxed for the first time and wanted to show it off. We could not get her to understand why it was inappropriate for her to ask a grown man to feel how smooth her thighs were. Ah, the innocence of the young.)

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A Bad Application Of Listening Skills

, , , , , , | Working | January 12, 2018

(I am a receptionist, and my job is to simultaneously greet people and answer a multi-phone line. I am on the phone answering a client’s question when a woman comes up to the counter.)

Me: *to the woman, covering the mouthpiece* “Hi! I’ll be right with you in one moment.”

Woman: “Application.”

Me: *again, covering the receiver, trying to hear the client on the line and also talk to this woman* “I’m sorry, one moment while I finish this call.”

Woman: *louder* “APPLICATION.”

Me: *losing my temper slightly* “Ma’am, I am ON THE PHONE! You need to wait a moment while I finish this call!”

(She then angrily stormed out. Gee, I wonder why she’s looking for work?)

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A Name To Remember

, , , , , | Right | January 11, 2018

(I have a name that, while uncommon, is very short and very phonetic. Unfortunately, nearly everyone consistently mispronounces it with a name that’s more complicated to say. For example, if my name was Ann, people always mispronounce it Anya. Generally, when I correct them, customers apologize and move on.)

Me: “Hello! How are you today?”

Customer: “I’m fine, thanks… uh…” *looks at my nametag* “Oh, thanks, [Wrong Name].”

Me: *smiling* “Oh, it’s pronounced [My Name].”

Customer: “Well, I’m just going to call you [Wrong Name], because [My Name] is stupid and hard to pronounce.”

(I immediately see red, because I’ve given him no reason to be rude about my name. Without really thinking, I snap back at him.)

Me: “No, you’ll call me [My Name], because that’s my f****** name!”

(As soon as I finish speaking I slap my hands over my mouth, horrified that I’ve sworn at a customer. Other customers in line gasp and look at the current customer for his reaction. He looks just as shocked as everyone else.)

Customer: “You… I… Well, you…!”

(I start to reach for the button to page my manager, thinking that’s what he’ll ask for. But he throws his head back and laughs!)

Customer: “Okay, okay! Fair enough! That was a really d*** thing to say, wasn’t it? I’m really sorry.”

(The other customers visibly relax and I slowly move my hand from my mouth.)

Me: “Oh… Uh, it’s okay. Thanks.”

Customer: “No, no, it’s not okay! I was really rude! Go on; tell me I was rude.”

Me: “Um… That was rude?”

Customer: “There you go! I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to upset you; I’m just a moron who can’t keep his mouth shut. Thank you!”

(He gathers his bags and leaves without further incident. My manager, having heard the story from a coworker, comes over and sends me on my break while she finishes my line of customers. When I come back, she has an envelope in her hand.)

Me: “So, am I in trouble?”

Manager: “Nah. That was actually pretty funny! Oh, that guy came back and asked me to give you this.”

(When I opened the envelope, there was an apology card and a $10 gift card inside. To this day, my coworkers introduce me to new hires with this story.)

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