A Storm In A Plastic Cup

, , , , | Right | April 21, 2018

(I’m working as a traffic director at the state fair with several other people. We all have radios. I’m directing traffic along a road with a few other directors, all about a yard apart.)

Radio: “Come in, supervisor. We have a problem.”

Supervisor: “Yes, what’s the problem?”

Radio: “Um… There’s an old lady here at the tracks. She’s driving around the track and throwing plastic cups at people. She’s mad. I need backup.”

Supervisor: *stifled laughter* “I’m on my way.”

(The call ended, and my whole line was doubled over in laughter. The job was dull but calls like that made it.)

Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolates

, , , , | Right | April 20, 2018

(I’m finishing up a transaction with a customer buying some chocolates.)

Customer: “Oh, I can’t wait to try these!”

(She quickly unwraps a gourmet chocolate and pops it in her mouth. She works it around for a few seconds, and then suddenly spits out the filling into her hand. She holds up the blob of mushy chocolate filling in front of my face.)

Customer: “Where can I put this?”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Customer: “Where can I put this?”

Me: “Um… For what purpose?”

Customer: *getting annoyed* “Where can I put this to save it for later? Don’t you have something I can put this in?”

Me: “Oh, um, okay.”

(I pull out a small plastic bag we usually save for making assortments, and hand it to her. She wipes the blob of chocolate filling off of her fingers into the bag, thanks me, and leaves.)

Me: *turning to my coworker in disbelief* “She asked, ‘Where can I put this?'”

Coworker: “How about back in your mouth, weirdo?!”

That’s A Lot Of Yoghurt

, , , , | Working | April 19, 2018

(I am on break and enjoying a yoghurt in the break room. A colleague walks in.)

Colleague: “Ooh, that looks nice.”

Me: “It’s my favourite.”

Colleague: “Did you get any for me?”

Me: “No. It’s bring-your-own. If you wanted some, you should have asked before I got it.”

Colleague: “Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to get something only for yourself, and not for others?”

Me: “Um, it’s bring-your-own, and [Colleague], 300 people come in and out of this room each day. If I had to get them yoghurt everyday, I’d go bankrupt. Besides, I’ve never seen you bring anything in for anyone else.”

(She didn’t say anything else and left. I finished up and went back to my desk. An hour later, my floor manager came over and asked why [Colleague] came to her asking, in seriousness, that I get a raise of £29,000 a week. Now, she can barely keep a straight face whenever [Colleague] is talking to her.)

Easy To Counter This Counter Case

, , , , , , | Right | April 18, 2018

(I come into work to find this email from a customer:)

Email: “I left my iPad in a blue case at your store. I WANT IT BACK. I brought it in to see if you could help with it and forgot it on the counter. Why wouldn’t you have called to tell me I left it there? Or texted me. Now I have to wait in agony until 7:30 so I can call you. Call me earlier if you can. It better still be there!”

Doesn’t Even Sound Good On Paper

, , , , , , , | Working | April 18, 2018

I work in a small, open-plan office in a fairly small company. The husband-and-wife owners of the company don’t seem to want to update anything or invest any money in the company; the windows don’t fully close unless someone pushes on them from the outside, the blinds are damaged so you can always see in, and the computer system is over some early version of Windows with limited processing speed, which crashes on a weekly basis.

One day my boss gets an email — they can’t work out group emails — to say the wife has decided we are using too much stationary, she refuses to buy any more, and she wants us to be a paperless office. This is all despite us lacking the resources to be paperless, and the husband’s insistence that we keep a physical paper trail of every order, invoice, or query the customers have.

We make do as best we can, but eventually I bite the bullet and buy a pack of paper, pens, and a few nice post-its, etc. It’s not much, but when you are earning minimum wage and buying resources which work should be providing, it’s more than I want to spend.

I put all my stationary in my desk the next morning. I come back from lunch to find all of it gone, including a monogrammed pen my mum bought for my birthday. I eventually track it down to the female owner’s office, where she is happily using them. When I confront her about it, she repeats, “Paperless office,” like she is a parrot who has learnt a new phrase. I bite my lip and ask how we are meant to be paperless when we are also expected to keep written notes and print records of all our work. She eventually relents that she might, maybe look at a stationary order, “if it’s such a big deal.” I thank her, take my monogrammed pen from her hand, and walk out her office.

The next day, I replace the stationary and replace the lock on the desk, secure it before I go for lunch, and come back to find my coworkers giggling. Apparently, the female owner had heard I had more stationary and spent five minutes trying to pry open my desk before snatching the post-its from my desktop, screaming, “PAPERLESS OFFICE!”, and storming out.

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