On The Need For Hazard Apple Pay

, , , , , | Right | November 10, 2017

(We have the card readers that you can tap your card on, or use a peer-to-peer payment app from your smartphone.)

Customer: *noticing card reader* “Oh! Does [Payment App] work on this?”

Me: “It works most of the time.”

Customer: *successfully uses card reader* “Ooooh! That was amazing. It gave me the tingles. Was it good for you?”

Me: *moves back from counter* “Thanks for coming in. Have a great day.”

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Your Waitstaff Know What You’re Saying

, , , , | Working | November 10, 2017

(I don’t exactly know why, but I have the ability to pick up languages. I can’t speak them well, but it’s not hard for me to figure out what people are talking about in any language. As a teenager, I work in a restaurant for some Albanians who always do the very mafia-type thing where they sit around smoking and drinking coffee for most of the day.)

Owner’s Friend: *in Albanian* “Girl, get me coffee!”

(I automatically go and fill their coffee. I am obviously zoned out in my own little world because, when I put the pot back and turn around, the owners, the friends, and the oldest son working at the time are staring at me, slack-jawed.)

Me: “What?”

Son: “What did he just say to you?”

Me: “’Get me coffee.’ He could say, ‘please,’ sometimes, you know.”

Son: “That wasn’t in English. What else have you understood?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

(From then on they made a game of telling me things or asking me to do things in Albanian to see if I understood or not. Turns out I could understand a lot, so coffee time happened less and less during my shifts, and most of the town thought I was one of the owner’s daughters. I just moved back into town after 15 years and people that remember me keep giving me condolences over the loss of my father.)

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Need A Thick-Skin To Be A Cashier

, , , , , | Working | November 9, 2017

(This happens during the Ebola epidemic in Africa. It has recently been reported that a woman from Glasgow has been quarantined after contracting it while working over there. I am recovering from my first ever allergic reaction, which left my skin blotchy and swollen. Normally I wouldn’t be outside, but life goes on and I need shopping. I’m currently checking out. The cashier has been looking at me strangely for the whole transaction.)

Cashier: “That’s £109.87, please.”

Me: “Oh, my reward card.”

Cashier: “Th-thank you?”

(She hesitantly takes it, trying to avoid touching my skin. She scans it and drops it on the other end of the counter.)

Cashier: “£98.87.” *while handing over cash* “Do you have card?”

Me: “No. Cash.”

Cashier: “Please, use card.”

(She activates the card reader and waits for me to use it.)

Me: “Look. I have £100 right here. I’m not using my card.”

(It takes the cashier a long time to reach for my money, but I sneeze into my other hand before she takes it.)

Cashier: *going pale* “YOU’VE GOT THE EBOLA!” *runs screaming through the store to who-knows-where*

Other Worker: *running up to me* “What on Earth?!”

Me: “She just said I had Ebola and ran off.”

(The other worker disappears and comes back roughly a minute later to finish my purchase.)

Other Worker: “Sorry about that. She said your face was peeling off, and that you gave her Ebola.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I had an allergic reaction last week. I guess it must have scared her.”

Other Worker: “No, it’s not your fault. It’s just plain ignorance.”

(I paid, and as I left, the cashier was being dragged up to the front by EMTs. She was in full hysterics, shouting, “EBOLA!” at every customer who walked past. I’m fully recovered now, but whenever I’m in there and we lock eyes, she flees. I’m told by the others in there that she still thinks I have Ebola, and tries to call the police every time she sees me. They keep a tally in the back.)

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Wish They Would Go Back To The Moon

, , , | Right | November 9, 2017

(I work at an old mine turned into a State Historic Site. We teach people to pan for gold, and I often make small talk with people as I’m showing them how.)

Me: “Oh, I like your Roswell shirt, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, thanks. I have a friend whose nephew was stationed at Area 51.”

Me: “That’s cool. I did a paper on that incident once, although I originally wanted to do it on whether we landed on the moon.”

Customer: “We did.”

Me: “Oh, I know.”

Customer: “And the moon has an atmosphere, you know.”

Me: “Umm, okay. How does that–“

Customer: “It’s a lot denser than Earth’s, though. And we’ve had bases there since the 1950s.”

Me: *trying to change the subject* “Well, let’s see if you have gold in here.”

Customer: “They’re all underground and on the far side, which is why you can’t see them.”

Me: “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any gold in this one. I’m sorry. I’d better go see how everyone else is doing.”

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Friendship Comes With Safety Padding

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 9, 2017

(After lunch one of my friends comes running up to me and pulls me off to the bathroom. She looks worried, so I ask what’s wrong.)

Friend: *embarrassed* “Well, I started my period today and I don’t have any pads! I had some in my purse but my sister must have stolen them!”

Me: *relieved* “Oh, okay. I’ve got some in my purse.”

(I pull one out and hand it to her. She takes it and dashes into a stall. When she comes back out, she still looks worried.)

Me: “What’s wrong, [Friend]? It must be more than your period.”

Friend: *suddenly blurts* “I’m out of pads at home!”

Me: “Why don’t you tell your mom? I’m sure she’ll buy them for you.”

Friend: *shaking her head* “No, she won’t!”

Me: *stunned* “What?! Why not?!”

Friend: “Well, [Friend’s Sister] and I get an allowance of $20 every month for our ‘essentials,’ like toothpaste, feminine products, razors, deodorant… you get the idea. Our mom got the idea to do it to teach us how to budget.” *sighs* “Problem is, the cost of stuff has gone up since my mom started doing this, and she hasn’t increased our allowance, so it’s not enough any more. Usually my sister and I run out of something or other and have to do without until we get our allowance again.”

Me: “That’s terrible!” *I pull the other half dozen pads out of my purse and give them to her* “Stick those in your purse.” *pause* “Can you use scented pads?”

Friend: *frowns* “Yeah, why?”

Me: *smiling* “Good! I’ll bring you a whole box of them tomorrow!”

Friend: “You don’t—”

Me: *holding up one hand to silence her* “Yes, I do. Besides, I grabbed them by mistake a couple months ago, and I can’t use them because the scent makes my butt break out in a rash.”

(My friend bursts into tears and laughter at the same time.)

Friend: *sniffling* “I’m sorry! I’m just so happy you’re going to bring me pads, but at the same time, that butt rash story was TMI!” *giggles*

(That wasn’t the last time I had to bring pads to that friend. I used to sneak them to her when I’d stay the weekend, because if her mom saw me giving them to her, she lectured me, saying her daughter “needed to learn better money management.”)

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