Stealing Is Not Her Bag

, , , , , , | Friendly | May 1, 2019

(My friend and I are shoe shopping. It’s a weekend so the shop is a bit busy. I sit down to try some on, putting my handbag just underneath my seat. As I am trying on shoes, I am vaguely aware of someone on the bench next to me also trying something on. I finish and get up to gather my things and my handbag is gone. I go into a complete panic, grab my friend, and tell her my bag has been stolen.)

Me: “What do I do? Do I call the police or centre management? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

(At that very moment, I notice another woman still wandering around the shop, looking at shoes, carrying my bag in one hand and her own in another.)

Me: “Hey! Give me my bag!”

Lady: *looks down* “Oh! Sorry, I thought it was my mine.” *casually hands it back to me and goes back to her blissfully vacant browsing*

(Although enormously relieved, I cannot fathom what just went on there. Did she think she came with two handbags and just happened to have an identical one to mine which she mistook for hers? Did she try to steal mine and think, rather than running off, she should continue shopping? What?)

A Signature Sign Of Why Stupid People Shouldn’t Be Allowed Money

, , , , , | | Right | May 1, 2019

(As a store manager, I get called to problematic customer situations. Today, I hear the customer screaming through the store before I even get there.)

Customer: “No! I’m not leaving until no one can see! You won’t steal my identity!”

(The customer is draped over the PIN pad of the register, while several employees stand around looking confused.)

Me: “Hi. What seems to be the problem here?”

Customer: “They’re going to see and steal my identity!”

Me: “Were you signing up for a credit card?”

Employee: “No, she doesn’t want us to see her signature.”

Me: “Ma’am, I assure you that your signature is securely–”

Customer: “No! All the other customers will see! They’ll steal my identity!”

Employee: “She didn’t use the stylus to sign; she used a permanent marker from her purse.”

Customer: “Everyone will see my signature!”

Me: “Uh… Okay, well, let’s see if we can find something to clean the signature off.”

Customer: “No, no, no!”

(She angrily grabs the PIN pad section and starts to pull it back and forth until it rips it off of the register, then turns and starts to walk away.)

Me: “Ma’am, ma’am, you can’t do that. Ma’am!”

(Fortunately, security was already there and managed to stop her. She ended up banned from the mall. The rest of the week, I had to deal with customers furious that the register was out of order and closed until a replacement shipped in. I couldn’t tell them why.)

Something Cagey About Your Friend

, , , , , , | Friendly | May 1, 2019

(My best friend in college is ADDICTED to hamsters and doesn’t deny it; she blames it on an incident in her childhood where she accidentally squeezed a hamster to death. She owns five or more at a time and buys the biggest, most elaborate cages and miles and miles of tubes for them. She insists they like variety, but switching out some tubes isn’t enough; she has to have enough tubes so that EVERY tube in each setup is different than those used in all other setups! She isn’t supposed to have this stuff on campus, but it is an open secret that many students have forbidden pets in their rooms — I suspect because it is an agricultural school. I am helping her load her car up for a visit to her hometown. We’ve just finished filling literally every inch of the car except for the driver’s seat with hamster cages and supplies when she asks:)

Friend: “Hey, why don’t you come with me?”

Me: *laughing because I’m sure she must be joking* “Your car is completely filled with hamster cages. Where am I supposed to sit, the roof?”

Friend: “Of course not; there’s room in the trunk.”

(I burst out laughing even harder, but the transformation I see come over her face as it cycles through confusion, realization, and embarrassment makes me realize she wasn’t joking.)

Friend: “I meant that we could move some of the cages into the trunk!”

(She’d just made a poor — but hilarious — choice of words. Okay, so she was not guilty of saying hamsters deserved to ride on the seats while people had to settle for riding in the trunk. Another time, we are getting into her car to go to the movies. I’ve just climbed into the front passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt when I notice a HUGE cardboard box on the backseat.)

Me: *groaning*Please don’t tell me that’s another new hamster cage.”

Friend: *completely matter-of-fact, nonchalant, and sincere, with no hint of sarcasm or humor* “Of course not. That’s just the bottom half.”

(Fortunately, getting a Lhasa Poo she could lavish all her love and attention on after graduation enabled her to kick that habit.)

The Generation That Will Just Wait For It To Be On YouTube

, , , , , | Working | April 30, 2019

(We’ve just moved into a new house. We don’t own a TV, as we tend to either read a lot or watch stuff we want to watch on the computer. As such, we want broadband Internet but not cable. The day they come to hook us up leads to this conversation.)

Cable Guy: “We’re here to set up your [Company] services, but there seems to be some mistake.”

Me: “Mistake?”

Cable Guy: “You haven’t paid for cable. I’m going to have to disconnect that, and you’ll be without cable unless you call them right away.”

Me: “That’s cool; we just want the broadband Internet.”

Cable Guy: “But I have to take the old cable box. You won’t be able to watch cable TV.”

Me: “Yes. I know. We don’t actually own a TV, and we really don’t want cable.”

Cable Guy: *sputtering* “You don’t… want… cable?”

Me: “Nope, we’re good. Just get the Internet up and we’re fine.”

(He proceeded to do his job, but he kept looking at me with this look that said, “Behold, this creature that walks like a human and doesn’t… want… cable…” I think I broke the cable guy that day.)

Looking For The Zombie Entrance

, , , , | | Right | April 30, 2019

(I am working when I hear my coworker call my name. An elderly man has just entered the kitchen via the back door, so I go to tell him his mistake.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, you’ve come in the wrong door. This is the kitchen.”

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “This is the staff entrance, sir. I’m afraid you can’t be in here.”

Customer: “Well, can’t I just come through, anyway?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that; it’s against health and safety regulations.”

Customer: *suddenly angry* “Well, what if I was dead, huh? Could I come in your kitchen if I was dead?”

Me: “Uh… Let me just show you the way to the main entrance, sir…”

(Try as I might, I couldn’t think of any circumstances where being in our kitchen could benefit a dead person!)

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