You Gotta Be Kid-ding Me

, , , , , | | Friendly | June 28, 2019

(I’ve recently moved into a house that I am renting with a few other housemates. Most of the other houses in the area have families living in them, so it isn’t uncommon to have a bunch of kids running around the area. On this day, I am unloading some groceries from my car when a few kids run past. Suddenly, the kids dart in and grab the bags that I haven’t picked up and run off with them.)

Me: “Hey!”

(The kids run to one of the houses a few doors down, so I drop the bags I’ve already picked up back in the trunk, shut and lock it to prevent a repeat, and then run after them. They’ve already entered the house by the time I get there, so I pound on the door. A lady answers.)

Me: *with an attempt at a polite smile* “Hi. A couple of your kids grabbed some bags from my car while I was unloading, so I’m here to get those back. I think–”

Lady: *screeching* “How dare you?! You accusing my boys of stealing?! They wouldn’t do that! How dare you?!”

(I have zero tolerance for the type of people who resort straight to shouting, so I pull out my phone and punch in three numbers, before holding it up so she can see.)

Me: “I was willing to write it off as childish mischief. Do we need to treat it as actual theft?”

(The lady glares at me and looks like she’s about to slam the door in my face, so I take a step forward, putting my foot over the threshold. She actually growls, before stepping back and picking up the bags from where they’ve been dumped on a side table, just inside the door.)

Lady: “Fine, if you have to have them so bad.”

Me: *in the most disgusted tone I can muster* “They’re mine, b****.”

(I then stomped off, leaving her to gape after me at calling her what she is.)

A Camera By Any Other Name

, , , | | Right | June 27, 2019

(I work for a very large electronics retailer. My department is accounts receivable, so I mainly deal with giant corporations, government offices, or schools. Every once in a while a regular customer gets transferred to our department by mistake; either they enter the wrong extension or someone in the company who doesn’t know any better sends them to us. It’s usually not such a big deal, as we can access the entire company system and can generally help with order status, payment problems, refunds, etc. But we cannot do anything that relates to actual sales like selling things, taking returns, or things like that. This happens after a customer calls into my direct extension.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Accounts Receivable] department. My name is [Slightly Uncommon Name]; how can I help you?”

Customer: You sold me a broken camera! I was at an extremely important event last night with [Famous Actor] and [Famous Politician], and when I checked my camera today I couldn’t access any of my pictures! You better fix this right now!”

Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that your camera isn’t working right. May I transfer you to tech support or customer service, as they can help you with this problem? You are speaking to accounts receivable and unfortunately, I can’t help with this problem. I don’t even know anything about cameras.”

Customer: “Your name is [My Name], right?”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “Then I’m speaking to the right person! You sold me this camera! I remember your name!”

(My company has over 2000 employees; it’s very possible that some of us have the same name.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir, but as I said, I work in accounts receivable. I don’t sell any of our products. I don’t even know what most of our products are, let alone how to work or fix them. Now, it sounds to me like you went to a very prestigious event, and I don’t want you to lose your photos; please allow me to transfer you to someone who can help!”

Customer: “You f****** b****! You just don’t want to deal with me yourself! You know you sold me a broken piece of s*** and now you don’t want to take responsibility! Well, guess what. I know your father! Bet you didn’t know about that! Wait until he hears how you treat customers! He will punish you!”

Me: *thinking* “You’re claiming you know my father? I’m not sure how that is relevant, as I am an adult who does not live at home.” *out loud* “I am very sorry that you feel like you are being mistreated. Once again, you have called into the accounts receivable department; if you will give me a moment I may be able to find out exactly who sold you the camera.”

Customer: *starts screaming and cursing*

(I put him on mute and begin to search our company directory to see if there is someone in sales with my name. Lo and behold, there is someone from our sales team who shares my name. Her phone status says she isn’t currently taking customer calls, which also helps explain how the customer got to me. I was the only available person with my name when he called in.)

Me: *to my coworker* “Hey, I know you aren’t taking calls right now, but I have someone calling in that says I sold him a faulty camera and, as I don’t work in sales, I figure he probably meant to speak with you. Also, fair warning, he’s pissed and claims he knows your father.”

Coworker: “Oh, boy. Is it [Customer]?”

Me: *after checking caller ID* “Yes, how did you know?”

Coworker: “He knows my husband, not my father, and he always tells him to punish me after he buys anything from me. Apparently, I only sell him faulty stuff. I bet he didn’t put his memory card in the camera.”

Me: “Can I transfer him to you? He probably won’t notice that he’s speaking to a different person.”

Coworker: “Sure! Let me just change my status to available and then send him my way.”

(I check on the customer and he’s still yelling, so I take him off mute.)

Me: “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I found the other [My Name], and she’s willing to take your call. I’m transferring you now.”


(I transferred him. Coworker, I’m so sorry you had to deal with him! I hope you were able to resolve his camera issues!)

Doesn’t Take A Rocket Scientist To Get Rid Of Him

, , , , , , | | Working | June 27, 2019

(I work at a company that makes big rockets — the kind that put satellites into orbit. One of my coworkers, a slacker, drops a large wrench onto one, damaging it so badly it is scrapped. Cost: $6,000,000. He is given a month’s unpaid suspension as punishment, but the union argues “poor training,” resulting in full back pay. A year later, he leaves the building while pressurizing another, more complete rocket. A bulkhead collapses, resulting in a second scrapping. Cost this time: $12,000,000! This time the company finds a way to get rid of him. They call him to HR, along with his union steward.)

HR: “I’d like you to read through your original employment application, and tell me if there are any errors.”

Slacker: “Uh, no, it looks fine.”

HR: “Okay, just to be sure, you didn’t make any mistakes filling it out?”

Slacker: “No, everything is accurate.”

HR: “Thank you. You’re fired. It seems you lied about a felony conviction.”

Slacker: *looks pleadingly at union steward*

Union Steward: *shrugs*

You’re Not Allowed To Die Until You’ve Bought Something

, , , , , | | Working | June 27, 2019

(This story was told to me by my mom back when she worked at a superstore. She is stocking when she hears stuff fall and goes to check it out. She finds a man collapsed. After the much-needed 911 call, she is called into the office.)

Mom: “You wanted to see me?”

Manager: “Yes. We need to talk about earlier.”

Mom: “Do you know if the man’s okay?”

Manager: “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t finish your stocking on time.”

Mom: “Uh… because I was trying to stop a customer from dying.”

Manager: “He didn’t buy anything, so he wasn’t a customer.”

(My mom stares at him in shock when he slides a write-up her way.)

Manager: “I know women like you are more prone to emotional mishaps but that’s no excuse for stopping your work.”

Mom: “What?”

Manager: “Sign this. This is your first strike.”

(My mom stares in shock again for a few moments before taking off her nametag.)

Mom: “And it’s my last. I refuse to work for someone who only worries about if someone spent money! What if you had been that man?! Well, I hope one day when you start to die, no one comes to help you!” *walks out*

Giving You His Angry Two Cents About Five Cents

, , , | | Right | June 26, 2019

(I walk to the drive-thru window to cash out a customer.)

Me: “Just the medium hot coffee, sir?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “All right, that’s $2.23.”

Customer: “What? It’s $2.17.”

Me: “It was a few weeks ago. I guess some new taxes were added on. It’s a little stupid.” *meant to be a joke*

Customer: “Stupid?! THIS IS F****** OUTRAGEOUS!”

(I notice two kids in the backseat, crying.)


(This is where I turn to get my manager and tell her that I will not serve this man, and if she forces me to do so I will quit.)

Manager: “I don’t think it’s that big a deal.”

(She looks to see who it is. Her usual smile fades completely.)

Manager: “Don’t serve him. Lock the window and tell him he needs to leave.”

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