I’ll Happily Take The “Goodbye”

, , , , , | Right | December 21, 2017

(I work in a movie theater. I’m on the gate checking tickets. The time is 6:11 pm. The following exchange happens:)

Me: “Good evening!”

Customer: *icily* “It’s afternoon, actually.”

Me: “Shall we compromise and say, ‘Good day’?”

Customer: “No. It’s, ‘Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, goodbye.’” *abruptly leaves to watch her film*

Oh, Ma’am…

, , , , | Right | December 19, 2017

(I work at a clothing store.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am, how may I help you today?”

Customer: “BLEHHHH.” *flails arms*

Me: “Um, ma’am, are you all right?”

Woman: “I am not a ‘ma’am.’ I am a f****** lady!” *slaps my face and walks off*

Me: “…”

It’s Barely Cute When A Child Does It…

, , , , , | Romantic | December 19, 2017

(I’m standing in line when I notice the bottle of tea I’m holding has leaked all over my shoes and the floor. I let out a little cry of shock and head back to the cooler to replace it. When I get back up front, the guy who was standing behind me in line is checking out.)

Guy: *turns around* “Haha, I beat you!”

(I just stare at him incredulously.)

Guy: “So, how you doin’?”

(My eyebrows couldn’t possibly go higher.)

Guy: “Just not going to say anything, huh?”

Me: “‘Haha, I beat you.’? Are you five years old?”

Guy: *goes a little red* “No! Just, I know you were up here… but then I… I got to the counter first.”

Me: “Yup. Congratulations.”

Guy:  “And, uh… You’re pretty. So, I’m hoping I could get your number.”

Me: “Wow, seriously? No. If you want a woman’s number, try acting like a man instead of a child.”

(He left in a hurry.)

Third Eye Blind

, , , , , | Working | December 18, 2017

(About twenty years ago when I was living in the UK I saw a movie that I really liked. Back home on holiday, they show the movie at our local cinema, but only for a week. I persuade all my friends to watch it with me. The only time we can manage is the last day it is on. This is a movie none of them have heard of, and they go only based on my recommendation. After about one third of the movie, I realize they have skipped the middle and gone right to the last third.)

Me: “Guys, they just skipped a third of the movie. I’ll go and see what happened.”

(I leave to find an employee.)

Me: “Excuse me. I’ve been watching [Movie], and there are about 30 minutes missing in the middle.”

Employee: “That’s impossible.”

Me: “I’ve seen the movie twice before, and I know that the middle third is missing.”

Employee: “I don’t see how that is possible, but I’ll try to find out. Come back after the movie is over.”

Me: “Since this is the last time you are showing that movie, I don’t see how this will help, but okay.”

(I went back and hoped that we could at least get a refund. About five minutes before the end credits, the fire alarm went off and our screen was evacuated. Not the whole cinema, but only our screen. I tried to find the person I had spoken to before, but couldn’t, so I tried to explain the situation to the person who seemed to be in charge. Long story short, they didn’t believe me, either. They also said that since the fire alarm wasn’t their fault we wouldn’t get any refunds. At least my friends took my word for it that the movie would have been great and weren’t too angry about the money they had spent.)

A Hair-Curling Mystery

, , , | Right | December 18, 2017

(I am working the cosmetics department on a very slow Sunday morning. Every aisle has been straightened, the counters have been wiped, the paperwork is finished, and I am desperate for something to do. I resort to the aisle that shares both feminine hygiene and hair accessories, double-checking that every hair curler and straightener is on the correct peg, when I notice something on the bottom shelf. It’s a cell phone. It’s small, and a cheaper model than what most people carry, but it is still someone’s phone. The whole department is empty, so I shrug and turn it on. I’m greeted with a rather gross cartoon background, and an obnoxious set of alert sounds. It wails when it receives a text, and it whooshes when I scroll. If I had to guess, it is probably the phone of a 10- to 14-year-old boy. I get an alert that says only five-percent battery remains, in addition to the awful singing and wailing it will not stop making because of the incoming texts. I turn the volume off and eventually am able to scribble out the phone number listed under the contact name “Dad.”)

Me: *takes the phone and the contact number back to the girl working customer service* “Hey, I don’t know how or why, but I think some 12-year-old boy left his phone by the hair curlers in fem-hy.”

Coworker #1: “In feminine hygiene? And it’s a boy’s phone?”

Me: “Judging from the background and the sounds it makes, yeah. No older than 14, I’m guessing.”

Coworker #2: “Who forgets their phone at [Store]? Where was it?”

Me: “It was just sitting on the bottom shelf by the hair curlers, turned off. It has no battery left; maybe it’s been there all night.”

(Meanwhile, [Coworker #1] has dialed the contact number and speaks up.)

Coworker #1: “Hi, this is [Coworker #1] calling from [Store]. We recently found a cell phone in our feminine hygiene aisle, and this was the contact listed under ‘Dad.'”

(It starts off normally, and then she starts making faces, having to repeat herself several times. The person on the other end makes her slowly spell out her own name, the department she is in, and the phone number for the store multiple times. Eventually, gratefully, she hangs up.)

Coworker #1: “Oh, my God, that guy was not with it. He’s like, ‘What’s your name?’ ‘[Coworker #1].’ ‘[Slightly Similar Name]?’ ‘[Coworker #1]!’ ‘What store are you at?’ ‘[Store].’ ‘[Incorrect Store Name]?’ ‘[Store]!’ And then, to top it all off, I go to hang up and he’s like, ‘All right, I’ll send him up there! By the way, he’s single!'”

Me: “The dude’s trying to get you with his 14-year-old kid? How old does he think you are?!”

(I figure “sending his kid” means the boy will have to ride his bike back to the store. I eventually end up at a different department, talking to the cashier who will be doing my break soon. A tall, skinny man in his late 20s or early 30s walks in and approaches the counter. He has short hair, a scraggly beard, teeth that jut out at all different angles, and is not particularly clean. He definitely doesn’t look like he’s totally with it.)

Customer: “Do you have my phone?”

Coworker #3: “Did you lose it?”

Me: *putting it together* “It’s back at customer service.”

Customer: “Oh, oh, thank you.”

(He walks off and I make it back to customer service to see how it went.)

Me: “How many times did you tell the dad to come to customer service? He ended up asking the front registers for his phone.”

Coworker #1: “That wasn’t the dad.”

Me: “WHAT!?”

Coworker #1: “Yup. He went on about how happy he was I had found his phone, how he couldn’t believe he lost it, and bless my heart, and whatnot.”

Me: “I swear to God, I thought that was a child’s phone. You should have heard the sounds it made.”

Coworker #1: “I’m still trying to get over the fact that his dad wanted to hook me up with him.”

(We never did discover why this short-haired man in his 30s came to lose his very childish cell phone by the hair curlers in the feminine hygiene aisle. We’re pretty sure why he’s still single, though.)

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