It’s Time To Mace Your Fears

, , , , | Friendly | January 13, 2018

(I am driving to my friend’s church while I am staying with her. I have never been there before and don’t understand my friend’s bad handwriting. I drive up to a young woman on the sidewalk and wind down the window. We are the only ones here and I am a woman.)

Me: “Hi, could you tell me the way to—”

(The woman backs up several feet and stares wide-eyed at me.)

Woman: *shouting* “Tell your boyfriend to back off because I have bear mace!”

(She then started running down the street and around the corner. I looked behind me, and the only other person was a much older man who I presume had come out of a nearby house, around a hundred yards away. I never saw the woman again and don’t know what she meant.)

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My Bark Is Worse Than My Gigabyte

, , , , , , , | Right | January 13, 2018

(I work in cell phone sales at a major department store. Although I work for a different company than the department store, we don’t have our own section; we’re stuck back in electronics. We are expected to help with electronics sales, despite not having keys for any of the locked cases. By the time this customer rolls around, my coworker is on hour two of his “fifteen minute break,” I’ve had two elderly ladies who believed in the “if I scream, I get discounts” policy, another guy who took it personally when he forgot his receipt, and almost no questions for cell phones. Finally, this customer comes up with a question I can answer.)

Customer: “Hi. I have 32 GB of space on my phone and it’s getting full. Do you know if my phone can take a memory card?”

Me: *genuinely upbeat at the polite tone he puts on* “Well, let’s take a look. May I see your phone?”

(He hands me his phone. I take off the case and start looking it over to see if the memory slot would be behind the back case or the slot where the SIM card goes, and he suddenly gets angry.)

Customer: “The slot is right here.” *points at the SIM card holder, almost knocking the phone out of my hand*

Me: “All right, one moment.”

(I go to pop out the little drawer and slide it out, seeing that there is indeed a space for a memory card. As I’m doing this, he tries to yank the phone out of my hands, screaming:)

Customer: “NO, IT’S HERE!” *he causes the tiny SIM card to go flying to the floor*

Me: “I’m so sorry! Let me get that…”

(As I’m rooting around for the card, I check a paper folder near where it fell and see it’s not there. The entire time I’m looking on the carpet he keeps screaming:)

Customer: “IT’S IN HERE! IT’S IN HERE!”

(He picks up the folder and tries to shove it in my face. I try explaining I looked there, then look again to appease him, but he is still screaming. Finally, I find it across the floor from where the folder was, nowhere near it.)

Me: “There we are. So, it does look like you have a slot for additional memory. Now, your phone only allows an extra [GB amount] of space, so—”

Customer: “I already knew there was a slot for it! I asked you how much space I could add!”

Me: “Well, you can go up to [GB amount] on this phone—”

Customer: “I knew that! I’m asking if I can transfer photos on there!”

Me: *at this point, I am no longer smiling, but my voice is still in customer service mode* “Why, yes, you can, and in fact, we can set it up so music and other media can be backed up on there as well—”

Customer: *now talking down to me like I’m the biggest idiot on the planet* “Just. Answer. My. Question. How much will this cost?”

Me: “Well, we can walk over to the storage devices and I can show you our selection—”

Customer: “That would be great. Where are they?”

Me: “Right this way.”

(I turn to walk two aisles down to the storage devices, make it all the way there, and realize he isn’t behind me. I wait a moment in case he went around the other way, then step back out of the aisle in case he didn’t see which one I went into, then I finally wander back in case he just left. Instead, he’s standing by the TVs, watching a kid’s toy promo. At this point, I’ve had it. I march right back up to him, and he turns to see me.)

Me: “You know, if you want to look at the storage devices, you have to actually walk the f*** over there yourself, right? This is a TV, not a memory card. So, are you going to f****** follow me, or can I get back to my job?”

(As soon as I said it, all my anger washed away and I was left in horror, but apparently it worked. He stood staring at me, completely silent, and then followed me over to the memory section. I showed him which ones he could use for his phone, he asked me about the prices, then declined getting one that day and left peacefully. He didn’t report me, I never got in trouble, and I felt much better after that.)

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Needs A Gentle Push In The Right Direction

, , , | Right | January 12, 2018

(I work at a recreation center. A woman is standing in front of the door near my desk and staring at it. She eventually walks up to me.)

Woman: “Excuse me. How do I open this door?”

(I look over at the door to see if it’s been locked, and it hasn’t.)

Me: “You just… push it.”

Woman: “Oh, okay. I didn’t think of that.”

(She proceeded to open the door with ease.)

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Temp Agency Needs More “Training”

, , , , | Working | January 12, 2018

I’m employed through a temp agency, like almost everyone in the department I work in. This is easier for the company, since they can’t guarantee full time employment, due to the nature of the work. This morning, we expect a new temp, but she’s very late. Our supervisor decides to call the temp agency to ask where she is.

After the first call, we hear she’s on her way, but the agency doesn’t know why she is so extremely late, so they promise to call us back.

When the agency calls back, our supervisor tells us what happened. The new worker, who lives in The Hague — about 35 kilometers from the town the office is in — is on the train station, but says she can’t afford to buy a train ticket.

Everyone is amazed by the story. We all feel very sorry for the girl for not even being able to buy the train ticket, which would require about €20. However, a few of us are here with a car, so the idea comes to send one of us over to pick her up. Our supervisor calls the temp agency again to tell them the plan.

After the call, our supervisor tells us, “The plot thickens.” Why? “She’s in Groningen.” Yes, she is in a city in the far northeast of the country, from which she would have to travel about 3 hours to get here! On the morning of her first day with us…

Needless to say, the new girl didn’t need to come in anymore. And as our supervisor said: “No wonder she couldn’t afford the ticket.”

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The Rewards Program Is Not Its Own Reward

, , , , , | Working | January 12, 2018

(I am shopping with a friend. I notice a new employee at the register. While most employees at this store wear clothes with goth and/or metal aesthetics, she stands out; she is absolutely decked out with the store’s merchandise, and she has dyed a bright blue streak in her hair. Initially, I think little of it, and when I’m finished with my shopping, I go to her register to pay. Then…)

Employee: “Okay, and what is your email address?”

Me: “Why are you asking me for that information?”

Employee: *snottily* “Management says that everybody who shops here is joining our rewards program. Give me your email address.”

Me: “I have never heard of that policy before. What is my email address being used for?”

Employee: “Everybody who shops here is required to sign up for the rewards program to purchase. I am signing you up.”

Me: “No, thank you. You haven’t even explained what it is.”

Employee: “We will send you frequent promotional messages telling you what’s new at [Store]. You can also earn points with every purchase. It’s free money, and who doesn’t like that?”

Me: “No, thanks; I don’t want any emails from here. I want to pay for my stuff.” *pulls out wallet*

Employee: “I mean, I guess you could not join, if you really hate getting good deals and free money.”

Me: “I don’t want emails, thank you. Please let me pay.”

Employee: “But you’ve already earned points. I mean, there’s no need to be so wasteful.”

Me: “No, thank you. Here is my credit card.”

Employee: “If you don’t sign up for a rewards program, I’m giving them to the next customers. Those two guys behind you are going to steal your points.”

Me: “They can have them. Please let me buy my stuff.”

Employee: *glares as she slowly swipes my debit card on both sides* “Well, people have turned down joining the rewards program and regretted it before. Are you—”

Me: “I do not want to join your rewards program.”

Employee: “Ugh, fine.”

(I got my card and purchased stuff from her with no negative repercussions. She did indeed push the program on the two guys behind me; they obliged pretty quickly as she made passive-aggressive remarks about my intelligence. My friend reported similar behavior when she tried to pay later on, and even a few months later, when it turned out the employee not only managed to stick around but works most days and hours of the week. We have not returned since!)

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