(The store I work at is a punk/gag retail store. Our customers generally range from the usual teenagers, to the occasional adult. We’re required to greet every guest as they enter the store and provide them with a promotion. It’s not uncommon for guests to completely ignore us. This happens to be one of those times.)
Me: “Hey, Welcome to [Store]. How are you?”
Customer: *ignores me*
(Once the customer is out of earshot, I turn to my store manager who has been standing beside me given the rather slow day.)
Manager: “I’m great; how are you?”
Me: “I’m good! Can I help you find anything?”
Manager: “No, just browsing.”
Me: “All right! Well, jewelry is buy one, get one half off! Feel free to ask if you have any questions.”
Manager: “Thank you!”
(We then parted ways and went about our business as if nothing ever happened.)
(The interior of our office gets new paint. As our boss is known for being notoriously cheap he asks us employees to carry out some furniture on our way to our lunch break. Another coworker and I pack a desk and carry it to our storage room. I’m the one who’s walking backwards and halfway into the room I feel a short pain and it gets warm inside my shoe. I put the desk down and see a plank with a nail sticking THROUGH my foot.)
Coworker: “Oh, no! Stay put! Don’t pull the nail out. I’ll inform [Boss] and get somebody to carry you to my car. Guess we’re spending the afternoon in the hospital.”
(A few minutes later my boss and two coworkers arrive.)
Boss: “Wow! Well, at least we can learn something about workplace safety here. [My Name], you really ought to be looking more carefully where you step.”
(I waited some seconds for him to start laughing but apparently it was no joke. Yep, totally my fault.)
(I sign up for a freelance translating job, take a very long test, and pass. When I am assigned my first piece of work, they also add me in a chat group of their team so we can take orders and submit work, and everyone knows what others are doing. The first time I finish and send a translated chapter of text, I receive some comments, but nothing implying that the quality of my translation is below average. The second time I send more chapters, I receive some comments which are mostly about basic formatting – e.g. shouldn’t write “haha” but “ha ha” with a space. I continue to send more chapters and suddenly the manager send me a private message:)
Manager: “Finish the chapter you’re working on and stop that story; I’ll send you another one. This one doesn’t seem to work.”
Me: “What’s wrong? Is it my wording or something?”
Manager: “Well, it’s not suitable for you; let me know what genre you’re interested in and I’ll send you those so you could do better.”
Me: “Maybe romantic, then.”
Manager: “Okay.”
(The next day I log into the group and find:)
Manager: “[My Name], please work on this story: [link]. I have to say upfront that your writing style is bad and translating skill is weak. You often mess up the meaning of the story, and either can’t translate it at all or you come up with the wrong translation. From now on I’ll only give you simple stories to work on and if after five months you show no improvement we will stop this all together.”
(I’m not one who can’t take criticism or admit I’m at fault. But apparently they preferred to humiliate the freelancers who’re working for them, rather than having a conversation that would actually help the two parties.)
(This has happened at least once with each of my managers and a couple coworkers when my mother has come to pick me up from work.)
Manager: *sees my mum parked in the disability car spot* “Why is your mum parked in the disability spot? She can’t park there!”
Me: “Um, yes, she can.”
Manager: “She can only park there if she has a disability!”
Me: “Yeah, pretty sure the disability sticker in her windscreen and the fact she can’t walk unassisted means she can park there.”
(Which is often followed by them suddenly very busy tidying or intently inspecting something nearby.)
(Recently I gave the worst customer service I’ve ever given. Deliberately. I’m the Dairy Manager in a grocery store. I did work in dry grocery for around three years, and normally if a customer asks me a question about another department, I try to help them, or find someone that can. After stocking yogurt and sour cream, I’m heading into the back room with my empty cart when I hear a whistle. Not thinking anything of it, I keep walking. I hear the whistle again, followed by “HEY!” I turn around, and a customer is whistling at me like I’m a DOG and snapping his fingers at me.)
Me: “Yes?”
Customer: “What’s the price on these hams?”
Me: “I have no idea. I’m the Dairy Manager.”
(Turned on my heel, went into the back room, ran into my boss, and told him what I’d done. He laughed. Cool boss.)
