When The Hangry Strikes

, , , | Right | February 24, 2021

I work at a local family-run food chain. It’s a slow shift due to a snowstorm that is hitting the area. My manager walks over to me while holding a phone on mute.

Manager: “Hey, could you take this order? They would like to place a delivery.”

Me: “Of course!” *Takes the phone* “Hi there! Can I get your phone number for the delivery?”

This customer seems calm and normal while I am getting his information for the delivery.

Me: “All righty, what can I get started for you tonight?”

Customer: *Silence*

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: *Suddenly snappy* “What?!”

Me: *Slightly taken aback* “How can I help you tonight?”

Customer: *Begins to yell* “How many d*** people am I gonna have to talk to before I can get my f****** food?!”

Me: “Sir, this is the same person you were speaking to as before.”

Customer: “What do you want from me?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. Would you like to continue placing your order?”

He goes back to his original relatively normal demeanor.

Customer: “Oh, yeah! Can I get [order]?”

The rest of the transaction goes relatively smoothly until the very end after getting his payment information.

Me: “You’re all set! Give us about forty-five minutes and that should be out to you!”

Customer: *Yelling again* “That’s what they say every time!”

Me: “I am very sorry, sir, but I am not in charge of delivery times. Please contact us if you have an issue with your delivery.”

He hung up. I went to tell my manager what happened and she apologized profusely, explaining that he had originally called complaining about his delivery not arriving when it turned out he hadn’t even placed an order with us yet!

She told me he was normal when she was talking to him and that if she had known he would have acted so rudely she would’ve handled the call instead. What a weird dude.

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Another Case Of Wifitis, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | February 24, 2021

I have to go out of town for a week and decided to travel by bus. I spend a few extra dollars to get a seat with a table on the lower level so that I can get some work done on the ride. An older woman sits down across from me, and for the first thirty minutes or so, we have some pleasant conversation. She asks me if I’ve ever had any trouble with this bus company before, to which I say no. She also shares some dried fruit snacks with me while we talk, which I happily accept. After the conversation comes to a natural stop, I pull out my laptop to write some emails using the bus’s onboard Wi-Fi. The Wi-Fi, however, appears to not be working.

Me: *Out loud* “Huh, that’s odd. The Wi-Fi on this bus doesn’t seem to be working.”

Woman:What?! That’s ridiculous. It’s supposed to work! What’s even the point…”

I look at her kind of blankly, surprised by the outburst. It should be noted that she doesn’t appear to have any need for Wi-Fi since all she has with her is her phone — which she hasn’t touched once — her purse, and a book that she’s been reading.

Me: “Well, it’s not a huge issue. I have other stuff I can work on that doesn’t require Wi—”

Woman: *Cutting me off* “This is outrageous. I’m going to talk to the driver.”

She gets up and walks past the line on the ground where you’re not supposed to walk and starts talking to the driver. I don’t hear much except her frustrated tone of voice. She returns, sits back down across from me, and proceeds to call customer service for [Bus Company].

Woman: “I’m on the [time] bus from [Location #1] to [Location #2], and the Wi-Fi isn’t working and the driver won’t do anything about it. This is outrageous! I paid [price] for this ticket and I expect all of the amenities to be functional.” *Slowly and quietly into the receiver* “You. Are. A. Terrible. Company.”

She hangs up, looking frustrated. I’ve been working on my laptop during this exchange, feeling rather uncomfortable, and trying to ignore her. She then returns to her book and pulls out the dried fruit again.

Woman: “Do you want a piece?”

Me: “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Why this woman decided to make a big stink about a service she wasn’t even using, I will never know.

Related:
Another Case Of Wifitis

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Not Homeless But Humorless

, , | Right | February 24, 2021

Our restaurant isn’t fancy per se, but the food is high-quality and on the expensive side. I am serving a man in a nice suit. He is probably about sixty years old.

Me: “Hello, how is everything today?”

Customer: “It’s all right. How much does this job pay?”

I’m kind of confused by the question but I answer honestly.

Customer: “Because I’m homeless.”

He gestures to the food on the table that he clearly got from the restaurant that he’s eating at.

Customer: “Yeah, I got this food from the trash, and I was looking for a job.”

I stare at his clearly expensive suit.

Me: “Uh-huh.” 

Customer: “Aww, I’m just kiddin’ ya. You young folks are so gullible these days, you’ll believe anything I say.”

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Some People Are A Real Mystery

, , , , | Right | February 23, 2021

I am browsing the mystery section of a used bookstore and I pick up a book by an author I really like. The lady browsing beside me takes notice of the book I’ve picked up: a cozy mystery about a member of a knitting club being accused of murder. I should point out that I am twenty-two years old. I am also barely five feet tall and have what I call “baby cheeks,” making me appear younger.

The lady speaks to me as though speaking to a small child.

Lady: “Oh, sweetie, you don’t want that book. That book’s for big girls.”

I look around for a little girl, see no one else in that section, and realize that she is talking to me.

Me: “Uh, excuse me?”

Lady: “That book you’re holding. I know it has cute little kitties on the cover, but it’s a grown-up book. I’ve read it, and it’s full of mean people and scary things.”

I am completely dumbfounded. I have often been mistaken for a teenager, but a little kid? That’s a new one. It really doesn’t help that I am wearing a low-cut top and have rather large breasts. I don’t know how she could have missed that.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m twenty-two. Besides, I’ve read the other books in the series, and—”

Lady: “Do you want me to take you to the children’s section? You’ll find lots of great books there!”

The worst part is that I can tell that this lady is sincere; she seems to genuinely believe that I am a small child. I’m so confused that I don’t even react when she takes the book out of my hands, puts it back on the shelf, and takes a few steps away, trying to get me to follow her. I finally snap out of it, still wondering if I’ve somehow entered the Twilight Zone, and grab the book again.

The lady smiles like I’m an adorable toddler.

Lady: “Ah, sweetie—”

I had meant to look around some more, but at this point, I just want to get my book and get out. I fast-walk to the checkout, the lady following me the whole way, chastising me even as I pay! I don’t know what my face looks like, but it must be enough for the cashier to have some idea of what is going on. I should also mention that the cashier is a pretty big guy.

Cashier: *Leaning in and whispering* “Want me to block the door?”

Me: *Relieved* “Thank you.”

I slipped a few dollars in the tip jar and bolted the moment he gave me my book and receipt. I got in my car as fast as I could. I saw the cashier watching me, the crazy lady still trying to get past him. He didn’t move until my car left the parking lot. Thank you, cashier, for saving me from whatever that was. I did enjoy the book, by the way.

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Okay, But Were They Any Good?

, , , , , , | Right | February 22, 2021

I work the overnight shift for a hotel. Usually, it is super quiet because everyone is sleeping. The walls are not soundproof so, occasionally, we get a noise complaint about a TV too loud, people being loud in the hallway, etc.

One night, I received four noise complaints for the same room in five minutes around 1:00 am. I went upstairs with security and knocked on the door. It took ten minutes, but when the guests finally opened the door, I found a live band in the room performing. Needless to say, they all got kicked out of the hotel for the night and banned from coming back.

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