Fifty Proof Leads To Fifty Dollars

, , , , , | Right | October 11, 2017

(A patient is getting ready for discharge and needs prescriptions. A bunch of us call and make sure we can find the cheapest prices in town. This is not an easy task, as there are quite a lot of them. While at the nurses’ station, I hear this exchange:)

Nurse: “Ma’am, this is your discharge paperwork. Here are the prescriptions your doctor talked to you about. We found them cheapest at [Pharmacy] for you; it should only run you about $50. Do you have any questions?”

Patient: “I can’t afford no $50.”

(Everyone looks dumbfounded, because her extremely expensive alcoholism is what brought her in in the first place.)

Nurse: “Well, that’s the cheapest they come, and if you don’t take them, you may end up back in the hospital.”

Patient: “That don’t matter; the government will pay for that.”

Nurse: “Still, it’s not good for your health.”

Patient: *now yelling at all the nurses present* “Y’all can’t all just pitch in and give me the $50?”

(She stayed at the nurses station for an hour until one of the nurses nearly wrote her a check out of annoyance. That poor woman. Eventually, security had to be called.)

Unbuckled Parenting Techniques

, , , , | Related | October 11, 2017

(I work at a school and am bringing a kid out to be picked up, followed by a bunch of other kids who are also waiting for their parents. My school has an office and waiting area right in front, where parents can park to pick up their kids, and in the middle there is a ramp where kids come out from. It’s raining heavily and the pickup area, despite having a roof, is very wet.)

Me: *opening the door to the outside* Oh, [Student]! They are here to pick you up, I think. Who is that lady in the car?”

Student: “My mom.”

(The mom makes a horrible face at me.)

Me: “Great!”

(I open the back door and help [Student] in.)

Mom: *turns around from the front seat and screams* “I almost slipped on your s***ty floor.”

(I’m shocked by her language and turn to look at her eight-year-old. He looks down, obviously scared.)

Mom: “There.” *points to the offices* “I came in and almost slipped. I told the b**** inside that if my kid slips here, I will sue each one of you. I will sue the s*** out of this f****** school and you all will be out of a f****** job. And she ignored me, that b****. And you better hear me. Can you hear me, b***? If my son slips, I will leave you on the street.”

(She keeps screaming. I don’t even know what to answer as I look at [Student] and try, miserably, to buckle him up.)

Me: *interrupting her* “Excuse me, the seat belt seems to be stuck behind the seat. [Student], could you please move to the other side so I can buckle you up? I wouldn’t want you to leave without the seat belt on.”

Mom: *now furious at being interrupted* “Who cares about a d*** seat belt?! Get a life, you b****. I have things to do! Leave him like that and go get a mop to clean! This s***ty school charges too much and only hires b****es. Go work!”

(I hardly have time to close the door before the car speeds away, with [Student] unbuckled. So much for her child’s safety. I have never seen this mom before, but I do know that this is the second time in two years that she has picked up her son. Usually, he stays up to four hours after exit time waiting for her, and she always sends random people to pick him up: boyfriends, aunts, friends, etc. We have to call every time to ask if they are allowed. I tell my boss about this incident. The floor was dry. Apparently, the lady came in with her wet high heels and slipped on the smooth floor.)

Boss: “Don’t worry; she threatens to sue us all the time.”

(And before you ask, the father tried to get custody of the boy. He got it for a while and it was great. But she got it back. Poor [Student].)

The Badly Behaving One? It Is Definitely Not You

, , , , , , , | Friendly | October 11, 2017

(I share a name with a few other girls in my grade.)

Girl #1: “Hey, [My Name]!”

Me and Girl #2: “Yeah?”

Girl #1: *staring me directly in the eyes* “It’s not you, you f****** attention w****. Why do you think it would ever be you? It’s always you! Just this once, it’s not you, and you can’t f****** deal with that, can you? You little b****, you just do whatever you want to do and grab whatever measly bits of attention you can scrounge up. Well, you know what? I don’t care. I truly don’t. You can go die in a hole, because it will never. Be. You.” *turns to [Girl #2]* “Anyway! [Classmate #1] is apparently dating [Classmate #2] now! Isn’t that fantastic?!”

Girl #2: “What the living f***, [Girl #1]?”

(I more or less walked away with my jaw on the ground. There’s gotta be a nicer way to tell a person you’re not talking to them.)

Doesn’t Know How To Politely Decline

, , , , | Working | October 11, 2017

(I am 23, at an interview for my job as a technical service rep for a copier company, which means I would go to the customers in the field to fix copiers. They have 21 people complete a written test. Of those, seven are chosen for interview and at the end, one is hired, all within the same day. Of the first 21, I recognize one of my former classmates, who was somewhat on the “wild side.” Since I’m fresh out of an industrial electronics course, the technical tests go easy. Then the interview: Two men are bombarding me with questions.)

Interviewer: “I have you and someone else, equal; I don’t know which one to choose. I go see one of your pals and I ask him why should I choose you over the other one; what would they answer?”

Me: *thinks for a moment* “Because I’m the best of the two.”

(It’s a job interview. You have to sell yourself. They silently take some notes. To me, it seems they simply want to know how sure of myself I am. That is fine. A few hours later, I get a call that I have the job. A couple of weeks later, I happen to see that former classmate. He comes to me and congratulates me on the job.)

Former Classmate: “Did they asked you that weird question about you and someone else being equal and stuff?”

Me: “Yes.”

Former Classmate: “What did you answer?”

Me: “That I was the best of the two. Why? What did you answer?”

Former Classmate: “I told them to ask me questions that made f****** sense.”

Me: *dumbfounded* “Wow… Well, see ya.”

(About a week later, I happen to meet one of the men that was interviewing. I ask him if he remembers someone answering something like that to that question.)

Interviewer: “Yes, I do remember.”

Me: “What did you do?”

Interviewer: “We put our pen down, asked a few questions to be polite, and as soon as he left the room, we put his file down the trashcan. Can you imagine someone with this behavior dealing with customers?”

(For the record, I worked for that company for over ten years before being laid off following cutbacks. As for that other guy, although he had somehow managed to get a diploma in industrial electronics, he found a job as a janitor at the local mall.)

The Alarm Tag Wasn’t Designed For This Alarming Situation

, , , , , | Right | October 11, 2017

(I work in a big retail store. Our clothes have those annoying plastic tags on them that require a cashier to slide them into a magnetic setup at the registers to remove them. This happens one day as I am working the returns counter, and an elderly woman approaches me.)

Customer: “I bought pants here, and they didn’t remove that alarm tag. Can you do that?”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry about that.”

(I see that she has no shopping bag, but I think perhaps they are in her car or purse.)

Me: “I can take care of that for you right here. It is store policy that I ask to see a receipt before removing any tags, though.”

(The woman places her purse on the counter and takes the receipt out. I can see there is, indeed, a pair of pants on her receipt.)

Me: “Okay, I can see the pants here on the receipt, so if you want to go ahead and bring them in I can certainly take care of that for you.”

Customer: “Perfect! Where should I stand? Should I sit up here?” *gestures to my counter*

Me: “Pardon?

(The woman then lifts up her leg a bit, and I can very clearly see the nub of the tag on the seam of her pants, near the hem.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t remove the tag with them still on you. That’s quite impossible with our setup.”

Customer: “You mean I need to take them off?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. I have no way to remove that tag while you are wearing them. You would have to come back with them not on so I can take off that tag.”

Customer: “Okay, then.”

(She steps back, and I assume she is going to leave and come back, when, I kid you not, this woman then proceeds to unzip her pants and starts to remove them.)

Me: “Ma’am? I’m sorry, what are you doing?”

Customer: “You said you can’t get it off while I’m wearing them. What does it look like I’m doing?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t have you do that, here, in the middle of the store.”

(I begin looking around now because there is a line behind her, and I am nervous that at any point my manager will come around, and that I will somehow be blamed for this woman trying to strip down.)

Customer: “Well, how the f*** are you going to get it off?”

Me: “You will have to come back on another day with them not on?”

Customer: “That’s a waste of my time! I came all the way here, just to find out you can’t take this tag off! You deserve to be fired for lying to the elderly!”

(She stormed off. I saw her again a week later, wearing the same pants, with the same alarm tag still on.)

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