Making Things Wheely Hard For Himself

, , , , , , , , | Working | February 4, 2018

I use a wheelchair to travel, and most airports believe me when I say that I can push myself.

But this employee…

He refused to let me push myself, wouldn’t leave when I asked him to, complained in German — thinking I only spoke English — that he had to wait around for me, and arranged my taxi without even once asking me anything. He even had a sarcastic, “I’m sure you can push yourself, sweetie,” response, and referred to another wheelie passenger and me as “zwei Stück,” meaning “two pieces,” as if we were luggage.

Maybe if he bothered to listen to me, he would have realized that I’m fluent in German and that I decided to file a complaint.

Can’t Believe This Is The Company That Came Up Trumps

, , , , , , , | Working | January 31, 2018

(I recently moved to a nice, but relatively expensive apartment community. Craving takeout, I order food from one of the many new options I’ve yet to explore. Some time later, my doorbell rings three times, followed by door knocks to the beat of shave-and-a-haircut. I open the door and am greeted by the delivery driver, a Caucasian male in his late twenties, pacing in front of my door.)

Driver: “Can you believe what they did?”

Me: “Er, sorry?”

Driver: “They sent me out without an address. I need an address to give you your food! Is that where you work?” *he points at the logo on my shirt, which is from a bike tour*

Me: “Uh… No.”

Driver: “They’re idiots.” *he hands me a receipt with no line* “Sign this.”

Me: “Where?”

Driver: “Anywhere; just sign it.” *touches my forearm* “What’s that?”

Me: “A tattoo?”

Driver: “Uh, duh.” *he takes the receipt* “You know, I’ve been waitlisted for these apartments for years, but they let all these immigrants live here. I hope Trump does something about them soon.”

Me: “Right.”

Driver: *hands me my food and turns to walk away* “I can’t believe those idiots.”

(In between his questions, he kept trying to peek inside my apartment. As soon as he left, I closed and locked my door, and made a mental note to never order from that place again!)

Not A Very A-Peeling Attitude

, , , , , , , | Friendly | January 31, 2018

(My group of college friends has one fellow who is from a wealthy family in Panama. One day in the cafeteria he gets an orange with his lunch. When it comes time to eat it, he can’t figure out how to get it open. Baffled, we ask:)

Me: “Have you ever peeled one before?”

Friend: “No! That’s women’s work!”

Magic: The Embarrassing

, , , , , | Friendly | January 30, 2018

(I am a girl who has grown up as a nerd from a young age, enjoying comics, card games, etc. I go to a comic book store where I’m a regular, to play Magic: The Gathering. Since I’m a girl, a lot of guys tend to think I’m a ditz and that I have no idea how to play the game. We have just finished “drafting” and creating our decks, and I am extremely confident in my deck. I am assigned to play with a guy I’ve never seen before.)

Guy: “Hi, I’m [Guy]. You’re [My Name]?”  

Me: “Hi, [Guy]. Yes, nice to meet you.”

Guy: “Okay, so, I’m guessing you’re new to the game. I’m willing to go easy on you so you can at least have the first round.”

(All the guys who know me just kind of chuckle under their breath, knowing that he has just signed a death warrant.)

Me: *in my best ditz voice* “Oh, thank you. I was so worried; I’ve never, like, played this game. I just came along with my dad.”

(I gesture to one of the guys close by.)

Guy: “Oh, that’s sweet. Dad-daughter time.”

Me: “Yeah.”

(We begin to play. As he promised, he goes easy on me, and I win. But he also lets me see a lot of his good cards, whereas I haven’t played mine, because I want him to believe I am bad. We continue to the next game, and he’s no longer going easy on me. He realizes over this round that I am now putting out heavy hitters and excellent combos. As I’m about to win, he stands up.)

Guy: “YOU’RE A CHEATER!”

Me: “How?”

Guy: “You had your dad build your deck! You’re supposed to make your own!”

Me: “Actually, [Guy I pointed out earlier] isn’t my dad. He’s someone who knows me because I constantly come here and win. I have done so for at least six months, now.”

Guy: “You aren’t new, then! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Me: “Maybe you shouldn’t assume that, because I have boobs, I don’t know how to play something. It’s extremely sexist. Now. Are you going to let me finish the game, or are you going to run out the door with your tail between your legs?”

(At this point he is looking around for support, and the owner says:)

Owner: “Maybe you shouldn’t be a sexist d**k!”

Guy: *looks at me* “You b****! *stands up and huffs out*

Owner: *yells to customer as he leaves* “I hope you learned your lesson!”

(He tried to come the next week. He opened the door, only to see me sitting there, facing the door, smiling. He automatically turned around and left, and he didn’t come back again. It’s always nice to put those type of guys in their place.)

You Can’t Be Vilnius!

, , , , , | Right | January 30, 2018

(I work in the home department. A lady in her forties approaches me on the till.)

Customer: “I want to return this blender.”

(The receipt says it was bought a year ago and it has clearly been used.)

Me: “What’s wrong with the item?”

Customer: “Nothing. I just don’t use it anymore.”

Me: “I can’t process a refund for you because it’s been used and you’ve had it for a year now.”

Customer: “But the guarantee is for two years!”

Me: “The guarantee is for faulty or damaged items only. I am afraid I can’t do anything for you.”

(The customer looks confused, so I explain to her how a guarantee works. She looks a bit suspicious.)

Customer: “Where is your accent from?

Me: “I am from Lithuania, part of the Baltic States, neighbours with Latvia, Poland, and Belarus.”

(A lot of people have never heard of Lithuania, so I am used to it. But this lady is a real gem.)

Customer: “All right. One of my colleagues is Polish. You guys all speak the same language, don’t you?”

Me: “No, we have our own language.”

Customer: “Oh, I am sure you do.”

Me: “I assure you that we have different languages and different cultures.”

Customer: “Could you ask someone else about the blender, dear? I am concerned you might be wrong about the guarantee if you don’t know what language you guys speak.”

(I try to figure out if I have heard her correctly. After few moments of silence I assure her that I really know the how the guarantee works, but after few blank stares I just phone my manager. She confirms what I have said is correct. Unfortunately, the customer looks even more suspicious.)

Customer: “Are you here legally?”

Me: *even more shocked* “Yes, I definitely am!”

Customer: “Can I see your visa?”

(I am trying to hold myself back, and instead of saying this is not her d*** business, I just politely explain:)

Me: “I don’t have one, because I am from the EU, so I don’t need one.”

Customer: “I am sure you do!”

Me: “Well, if you are sure…”

(I end up explaining to her that travelling inside the EU doesn’t require a visa, and it works in both ways. When she’s traveling somewhere in the EU, she doesn’t need a visa, either.)

Customer: “Yes, I understand that, but England is not in the EU; it’s in the United Kingdom!”

(I can’t believe this, but I actually end up explaining that the UK is a part of the EU.)

Customer: “Dear, would you say America is a part of the EU?”

Me: “No, that is part of the USA.”

Customer: “You see? And England is a part of the UK! You really need to learn your geography, dear.” *smiles and leaves*

(My colleague is standing at the next till.)

Colleague: “All right! I always though Lithuania was a part of Russia!”

Me: “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

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