Pray For Ricardo

, , , , , | Friendly | November 24, 2018

(Uber is still relatively new, but already very popular. I’m visiting Washington DC with my parents for an event; my dad went ahead to get the car and is coming back to pick us up at an agreed-on street corner. Some very well-dressed older ladies attending the same event are waiting nearby, and we make small talk as we wait. One of them is using Uber for the first time, and is very excited about it. Soon my dad pulls up to get us in a white minivan.)

Lady: “That’s him! That’s our Uber driver!”

Me: “Oh, ma’am, no, that’s actually my father, come to pick us up.”

Lady: “No, this is our Uber driver! His name is Ricardo!”

Mom: *joking, not aware that the lady is serious* “No, that’s our driver!”

(The lady opens the door and starts to get in, saying:)

Lady: “Thank you, Ricardo!”

(My dad is bewildered, wondering if we offered them a ride without telling him.)

Mom: “No, really, this is our car. This is my husband; he’s not an Uber driver.”

(By this time, the first lady is in the backseat, and the other two are getting in.)

Lady: “Oh… You’re not Ricardo?”

Dad: “No, sorry!”

Lady: *very dejected* “You’re not our Uber?”

Me: “No!”

Lady: “Are you sure? Is your name Ricardo?”

(They get out, and my mom and I get in. They continue to verify that my dad is NOT their Uber driver, when we hear a man’s voice calling, “Excuse me! Did you call for a ride?”)


Ricardo: “Yes, that’s me.”

(They rushed over to Ricardo in his red minivan. The funniest thing was, my dad’s name is Richard.)

Rich Spend All Their Wealth On Fried Chicken

, , , | Right | November 24, 2018

(I work at a popular fast food chicken restaurant. It’s about noon, and a rather deranged-looking man comes up to the register.)

Me: “Hi there. Is this going to be for here or to go?”

(He stands there and stares at me for a good twenty seconds before snapping out of his trance.)

Customer: “Oh! Sorry. This is to go. You know, I have a granddaughter who looks just like you. I make a lot of money, too. You know that place off of route 51…” *more incoherent rambling*

(He finally tells me he’s looking for a family meal, and I try my best to find the one that will fit his needs.)

Me: “We have a sixteen-piece meal; it comes with four large sides and eight biscuits. How about that?”

Customer: “Okay, and I’ll have that with no wings, please… You know, I have tons of money, right?”

Me: “Sure, and what would you like for your four sides?”

Customer: “No, I have money!”

Me: “I know. I’m asking what four sides you wanted with your meal.”

Customer: “That sixteen-piece meal up there; that’s what I wanted.”

Me: “Sir, I’m aware of that. I’m just asking what sides you want with it. Mashed potatoes? Coleslaw?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’ll have two mashed potatoes and two coleslaw.”

Me: “All right, that’ll be [total].”

Customer: “Now I have the money, all right?”

Me: “Okay.”

(He pulls out a whole wad of cash, seemingly all $1 bills. He tries to count them all and gives up.)

Customer: “Ugh, I know I have it. Let me just pull it out of what I got from that…” *more rambling*

(He eventually pulls out a fifty and gives it to me.)

Customer: “Now, I want to give you guys change for helping me out. Take what’s left and split it with each other.”

Me: “That’s very nice of you, but it isn’t necessary.”

Customer: “Oh, oh, oh, but it’s my gift to you. You should take it.”

Me: “Well, thank you, sir.”

(There ended up being a slight wait on his meal, so my manager went up and offered him a free drink while I handed it out. He talked to us for about five minutes about random things including his daughters, roads, and politics. He actually ended up inviting us to a candlelight dinner at his house before leaving.)

How Much A Night For Your Closet Rooms?

, , , | Right | November 23, 2018

(A very dazed guest comes in early in the morning. I’m about to leave my shift in a few minutes, so I’m very tired.)

Guest: *swiveling head around dazedly* “I’d like to check in… Name’s S-M-I-T-H.”

(I see that he was supposed to have arrived yesterday but didn’t bother to let us know he wouldn’t be here on time. No worries; he’s not the first to do so. I proceed with his check-in.)

Me: “Welcome. Here’s your key. The elevator is to your left, down the hall.”

Guest: “Where?”

Me: “Down the hall.” *points*

Guest: “Out those doors?” *points to patio doors clearly showing outside*

(I mentally facepalmed. Where we were, there were no outdoor elevators. I told him again where they were and he stumbled off. Later, we found him sleeping in the housekeeping closet! I’ve had confused people, and I’ve had sleepy people, but never that much.)

Free-Range Farmers To Provide Hens With Access To iTunes

, , | Right | November 23, 2018

(One of the doors to the store is scraping the floor up, so until we can get it repaired we lock it. It is a double door, so the other side is still usable. We put a sign on the door to please use the other door. A customer comes rushing up to the broken door and slams into it, falling onto her back. I rush to the door to see if she is okay; she stands up and laughs a bit, making a joke about how clumsy she is.)

Me: “Okay, but if you need anything, please let me know.”

(She goes down to the back and gets a carton of eggs after looking around a bit. She comes up to the counter.)

Customer: “What does ‘free-range’ mean?”

(The carton says, “free-range eggs,” so I explain it means that the hens were not put in cages and were allowed to walk around. She smiles really wide and gets really excited, and then asks:)

Customer: “Do you think that the farmers play music for them?”

(I have no idea what to say, but she seems so happy about it I just say:)

Me: “I… am sure they are nice and maybe sometimes they play the hens music.”

(She seems even happier with this.)

Customer: “Do you know the farmer’s name?”

Me: “I am afraid not… They get delivered by a guy named [Delivery Guy] if that helps?”

(She then pays for her eggs and leaves, saying:)

Customer: “Thank you for the free-range, musical eggs from Farmer [Delivery Guy]!”

(I just sort of waved and wondered what the h*** had just happened.)

Thankful For Not Fudging Up Your Thanksgiving

, , , , , | Right | November 21, 2018

(It’s the day before Thanksgiving and I’m stocking the baking aisle, which has been largely cleaned out at this point, much to the frustration and anger of many last-minute shoppers.)

Customer: “Excuse me. Do you have any [Brand] chocolate fudge icing?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that particular icing is out of stock. People have been asking for it and we’ve already checked out back; there’s none in the store. I’m sorry.” *braces for angry response*

Customer: *sigh* “I guess that’s what I get for waiting until the last minute. You have a lovely Thanksgiving!” *walks off*

(I stood there dumbfounded. I was beginning to doubt there was such a thing as a polite last-minute shopper.)

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