They Paid What They Deserved

, , , , , , | Working | March 13, 2019

(My team acquires five members. All of them are people in their late teens or early twenties who often go out drinking and clubbing together. As one of the more senior members of the team, I’m not so fussed about this and I prefer hanging with friends than going out on the town. Because of this, I don’t socialize with them outside of work and a couple of them seem to really dislike me for this. Two of them are guys who come across as rather arrogant and boorish along with being rather shifty. The younger team members seem to be following their lead on most things and it’s been causing issues. Often they show up to work hungover or occasionally still drunk from the night before. I casually warn them not to do this as management has zero tolerance against this kind of thing. Soon after, some of my colleagues tell me that these kids have begun to mock me behind my back and are making comments about boring they think I am. Not bothered with them, I shrug these off as they are a bunch of immature kids. One day, one of the two shifty guys asks me to come out to dinner with them after work. Immediately, I’m suspicious as they wouldn’t normally wouldn’t give me the time of day. However, he is insistent and claims they want to get to know me better. At dinner, it becomes pretty clear they don’t mean to pay me any attention, and whenever I try talking they just ignore more or talk over me. Fed up, I get up to go to the toilet, and the group doesn’t seem to notice. While I’m in one of the stalls in there I hear the two shifty guys plus one other come in, laughing loudly.)

Guy #1: “F*** me, did you see Captain Boring’s face? Mate, he just sits there with a stick up his a**!”

Guy #3: “Why the f*** did you invite that guy? He’s so bloody dull! Rice pudding is more exciting than him!”

(All three of burst out laughing. I just roll my eyes.)

Guy #2: “Well, someone has the pay the bill for us, don’t they?”

Guy #3: “You what?”

Guy #2: “In a while, we’re going to sneak off for a cig, then ditch him with the bill!”

Guy #3: “NO F****** WAY! MATE, THAT’S F****** COLD!”

(Again, they burst into fits of laughter and I can hear them high-fiving and commenting on how hilarious my face will look.)

Guy #1: “Well, that’ll teach the c*** for being such a f****** wet blanket, won’t it?!”

(I am incensed, but rather than rushing back to the table and confronting them, I decide to give them a dose of their own medicine and sneak out a back exit. Later, I get several angry texts, insisting that I owe people money and calling me derogatory names. On Monday, I get into work early and give my boss a heads up about this. Soon after, the two ringleaders come in, looking furious.)

Guy #1: “Oi! C***!” *shoves me* “You f****** owe us money, you mugging little s***!”

Guy #2: “Yeah, what the f***, mate?!”

(Immediately, our manager pulled us into a team meeting. Here, I told the team that I’d overheard their plan to ditch me with the bill and that I thought they were all pathetic morons for sinking so low. Initially, they tried to play it off as a “misunderstanding,” but my manager dismissed it, and after some back and forth the two ringleaders eventually confessed that they were going to do it. Apparently, it was to teach me “not to be so boring.” My manager then proceeded to angrily chew them out and told them they’d acted like immature morons and got what they deserved. I informed the group that I certainly wouldn’t be paying them back after that stunt. For the rest of the day, it was very awkward. However, a day or so later, the dream team was broken up and sent to different departments and were strongly advised that any revenge acts would be severely punished. A few weeks afterward, I saw the two shifty guys being escorted out in handcuffs by the police. They had been selling drugs to different staff members through the company’s instant messaging system. They are apparently facing prison time for their actions. A few of the other members of that gang did actually apologize to me, and they told me that they weren’t aware of the plot until after I left and they felt guilty about the way those two had mocked me. I accepted their apology, but I can’t feel too sorry for the two shifty guys.)

 

Day Rate Berate

, , , | Right | March 13, 2019

(I am the front-desk manager at a hotel that is located across the street from the bus station and train station. I have been gone on maternity for just over a year and during that time we gained a new regular customer. This customer has been staying with us every six weeks during our down time — fall, winter, and spring — when we have very few bookings and can make special price arrangements to get people into the rooms. We are now in the middle of summer and we are sold out or close to it every night. I take a call from a customer. This conversation takes place in French.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel]; this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Yes, this is Mr. [Caller]. I’m going to need a room this Friday. I will be arriving around ten am on the bus and will be using the room only until around ten pm when my train comes in. They do this for me all the time and give me a discounted rate.”

Me: “Okay, Mr. [Caller], that’s not a problem. I can book that for you.”

(I get the information in the system, thank the customer for his business, and send off the confirmation. During our down time we can book a customer for zero days, which will automatically generate a price of about 50% off the down season rate, referred to as a day rate. In the summertime, our rates are about $20 more per night and the day rate is disabled. If a customer wants a room, they have to pay for the whole night regardless what time they leave. Since he is a regular, I do give him a significant discount, making the rate about $25 more than he normally would pay, and about $30 less than the normal rate. Within minutes I get another call.)

Me: “Thank you for calling—“

Caller: “It’s Mr. [Caller]. I just booked a room for the day, and the confirmation you sent is for a whole night.”

Me: “Oh! Mr. [Caller], hello! I apologize for the confusion. It will show in the system that you have the room for the night because during the summer we can’t do day rates. But I have noted that you will be leaving the room by ten pm and you have been booked at a discounted rate—“

Caller: “Argh! I wanted the room for the day, and I always pay [price $25 less], AND I WANT A F****** MANAGER NOW! MANAGER NOOOOW!”

Me: “Sir, I am a manager and I understand that—“

Caller: *literally screaming into the phone to the point that I can barely understand him* “I HAVE A COMPLAINT; I WANT A MANAGER!” *garbled speech* “F****** RATE!” *garbled speech* “WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU OR YOUR HOTEL!” *more garbled speech followed by a string of French swear words, and then he hangs up*

(While he is rambling on and on I change the reservation to reflect that he isn’t staying the night and resend the confirmation. Within about thirty seconds of hanging up he calls again.)

Caller: “You just sent me a new confirmation, but it’s still the wrong rate and I want NOTHING to do with your f****** hotel! Cancel it NOW!”

(Then, he hangs up again. I decide to give in and manually change the price to LESS than what he expected to pay, to try to avoid losing a regular. I call him back to try to smooth things over.)

Me: “Hello, Mr. [Caller]. This is [My Name] calling from [Hotel]. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve changed the rate to [price lower than he requested], and I will also give you a free upgrade to the jacuzzi suite so you can relax while you wait for your train. Again, I apologize for the confusion; our prices and policies are different during the summer and—“

Caller: “Argh, I want NOTHING to do with you or your f****** hotel! CANCEL IT, YOU B****! I AM DONE WITH YOU PEOPLE!” *followed by a string of French swear words and insults and other garbled speech*

Me: “Sir, SIR! I am cancelling your reservation. You are no longer welcome to stay here. Have a good night. I am ending this call now.”

(I hang up and immediately send out a note to all the staff, filling them in on the situation and advising them not to book him a room. About an hour later, just as I’m getting ready to leave, my colleague stops me:)

Colleague: “We’ve gotten an email from our online booking department regarding the customer in question. You have to see it.”

(I can’t help but laugh as I read it. It should be noted that there are only four hotels in our little town, and as we are the only hotel within walking distance to the bus and train stations, we are also the only hotel to offer day rates for bus and train passengers. This is a special arrangement that is made by the general manager and is only valid during slow times. This rate CANNOT be applied online and must be done directly through the hotel. Based on the email, the customer has tried unsuccessfully to book at the three other hotels, only to find that they not only are fully booked but would charge the full rate which is more than our full rate. He then tried to book online, only to find that he would have to pay the full rate. The end of the email reads as follows:)

Email: “The guest would like to apologize for the way he spoke to your staff and would like to know if he can still take the room and if it will still be the discounted rate you offered. He said he loves your hotel, despite what he said. Can you please contact the client by email or phone?”

(I laughed, called the customer — who didn’t answer — and left him a voicemail. I told him if he wanted the room he would have to call the hotel directly. He never did call, and on the day he’d planned to come stay with us, we saw him sitting outside the train station on a bench in the sweltering heat for most of the day. I would have gladly let him come in, if only he had asked. I guess he realized what an a** he had been and was too embarrassed to show his face. We never saw him at our hotel again, but we have seen him walking around the parking lot of the train station from time to time. Good for him.)

Speeding Away From Customer Service

, , , | Working | March 12, 2019

(I’ve hired a driving service to get home from my aunt’s house since I don’t have a car. I’ve used this service before and all other rides have been fantastic, including the one after this. But this one? This one is the only one I’d say angered me beyond belief! She starts driving before I’ve even buckled in and for the first bit, I’m not sure, but it feels like she is speeding. I see on her dashboard where it tracks how fast we are going in big, bright numbers. And then, we pass a sign that reads, “35 mph.” She is going 46.)

Me: “Slow down, please.”

Driver: *ignores me and takes a hard turn that knocks me to one side, even with me buckled in*

Me: “SLOW DOWN, PLEASE!”

Driver: “Do you want me to stop the ride?”

(I look outside and we’re on a BACK ROAD with no street lights near an abandoned middle school.)

Me: “No. I’d like for you to go the speed limit, please.”

(The driver muttered and started driving five to ten miles under the speed limit to be spiteful and petty. The moment I saw a brightly-lit gas station on a busy road, I had her drop me off, called the service, and got my money back. I can understand street familiarity and going maybe one or two miles over the speed limit. But eleven?! And then to get rude after being asked to slow down? No way.)

They’re A Real Glass Act

, , , , | Right | March 12, 2019

(It’s a really busy day at the restaurant where I work. There’s a line out the door, and the moment a table gets cleared off it gets filled again. I’m serving a section that’s kind of separated from the rest of the restaurant. There’s one table that’s in a little nook at the back. There are tables straight across from it and it’s long enough that if you need to sweep or vacuum under it you need to move the tables across from it in order to pull that table out. One of my tables earlier in the day has somehow managed to smash about three glasses on the table in the nook. Because the table across is full, I can’t pull the table out to get all the glass from underneath — they got glass EVERYWHERE — so I warn my manager and the rest of the staff not to seat anyone there. Then, I clean the glass shards from the table, booth seats, and the floor in front of the table as much as I can, just as I was told to do. It is later in the day. A new family is seated at the table across from the nook table. For most of their meal, everything is fine and pleasant. I notice at one point they have let their young daughter — about five — start to run around, climbing on other tables and crawling on the floor. I warn her once not allow her kid to run around and climb on tables because it is dangerous and she could get hurt. Near the end of the meal, as I’m clearing away dishes, the mother stops me by grabbing my arm.)

Mother: “Excuse me. That’s really dangerous, you know. There are glass slivers on that table. My daughter could get hurt.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, some customers broke some glasses earlier. I thought I had it cleaned as best I could at the time, but that’s one of the reasons we don’t want children crawling and climbing on tables where they aren’t seated. I’ll clean the table further.”

Mother: “Well, do it fast; it’s really not responsible to leave it like that!”

(I look at the table. There are no slivers that I can see on the table, but I do spot some I’ve missed on the booth seats. I grab a cloth, anyway, and come back to wipe down the seats when I see her daughter is now crawling around UNDERNEATH the table with the broken glass. When the daughter sees me she climbs out from underneath and I begin wiping the seats.)

Mother: “I knew it! Excuse me!”

(I turn back to her.)

Me: “Yes.”

Mother: “My daughter got hurt because of your incompetence!”

(The mother then holds her daughter’s hand out; she has a tiny cut on her hand about the length and width of a small papercut.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I—“

Mother: “I don’t want to hear it. If you’d cleaned properly in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Get me a bandaid now, and I want to speak to your manager.”

(The daughter is looking really uncomfortable and trying to pull away, telling her mother she wants to go play. I apologize again and go to get a bandaid and tell my manager what happened. He tells me he’ll be with them in a minute and I give the bandaid to the mother. Everything seems fine until I notice that the daughter is back playing at the nook table.)

Me: “Ma’am, as you already pointed out, and as I’ve already told you, it’s not safe for your daughter to be climbing and playing at that table.”

Mother: “She can do what she wants!”

(My manager arrives and sends me off to do other tasks while he speaks with the customer. A few minutes later, my manager is telling me that he’s going to have other servers cover my tables so I can go scrub down the tables to make sure all the glass is gone. I assume everything has been worked out with the mother… until I hear her shouting again.)

Mother: “D*** it, your stocking is ripped, too! You!” *points at me* “You are in sooo much trouble. If you had just done as you’re supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened. My baby wouldn’t have been hurt. I’m calling the cops on you! I’m going to have you arrested for assault, you b****! You left glass there on purpose!”

(I just decide to ignore her and go tell my manager what’s happened now. The daughter isn’t bleeding from the leg, and I am just about at the point of yelling back at her about watching her child instead of letting her run around, so I figure it is best to just not engage her. My manager agrees and sends me back out to keep scrubbing the table. He comes out to talk to them and offers them 20% off their bill. They seem content and he walks away.)

Mother: *turning back towards me as I clean* “D*** useless b****, trying to hurt my daughter. You’re going to be arrested, you know. I’m going to charge you with assault. Aggravated assault even. What, are you deaf? Are you even listening to me?”

(I continue to ignore her and just keep cleaning.)

Grandmother: “What are you doing with that jam, [Mother]?”

Mother: “This lazy b**** doesn’t want to clean, so I’m going to give her something to clean. I’m going to open every one of these and smear them on the tables!”

Grandmother: “Stop it; you’re making a scene.”

Mother: “No!”

(She then proceeded to open three or four packs of jam and smear them on the table and seats. Just as I was about to go tell my manager what was happening, she stood up and rushed to the front where customers are supposed to pay. She then continued to rant to the manager about my poor service, cleaning job, attitude, etc. She then demanded he make it up to her daughter for getting injured by giving her a free stuffed animal and giving them their meal free. In the end, the manager gave them the 20% off and a free toy. With them gone I was finally able to pull out the nook table and properly clean underneath.)

Not Free From Child Free

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 11, 2019

(I am a freshman at a university in Utah. My university’s library has three floors. Even though it is a college library, students who are parents still bring their kids along with them. A lot of the time, these parents can’t control their kids or just don’t care to. Normally, though, the top floor is supposed to be kid-free, so I go there. It’s midterms, and I am trying my best to finish a six-page paper, when suddenly a mother brings in three of her kids, sits down, and starts working. After around ten minutes her kids start running around, making fart noises, and screaming. I try my best to focus and ignore them; I even get up and move to the opposite side of the library. The kids continue to run around, wreaking complete havoc, for thirty minutes. When I’m finally done, I walk over to the mother at the table where she’s just typing away at her laptop with her headphones in. I tap on her shoulder.)

Me: “Miss, are these your kids?”

Woman: “Yes.”

Me: “You realize the third floor is supposed to be kid-free, right?”

Woman: “Yeah.”

Me: “And?”

Woman: “I don’t care. The only spot I could find downstairs didn’t have a place for me to charge my laptop.”

(I manage to glance at her battery, and she’s full.)

Me: “Well, I know you have headphones in so you can’t tell, but your kids have been running around creating a lot of noise and just being distracting.”

Woman: “Well, I didn’t manage to get a sitter.”

Me: “So, you just thought, ‘Let’s bring them to a university library and distract everyone else during one of the most stressful times of the semester.’?”

Woman: “I have to study.”

Me: “Yeah. And the twenty other people up here also have to. I get that being a parent and going to school is rough, but this floor is supposed to be child-free. I’m sorry you want to keep your laptop plugged in even when it’s fully charged, but please be courteous and think about those of us who came here to get away from children.”

Woman: *now looking pissed off* “You have no idea what I am going through!”

Me: “I have three nieces that live with me at home that produce a lot of noise. I come here to get away from that and focus. I would never be so selfish as to bring them here. Please, be courteous and go to one of the other two floors.”

Woman: *rolls her eyes* “Whatever. You’re not in charge.”

Me: “Fine. I’ll go talk to one of the librarians who will tell you to leave.”

Woman: “Fine.”

(She left, but before she did, she screamed out, “F*** you, bitch!” I just laughed and said, “What a great example you are for your kids.”)

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