Jesus Only Pays For Your Sins

, , , , , , , | Working | December 31, 2018

(While the mail itself isn’t delivered on Sundays, there’s still work that needs doing in the post office. Among my managerial duties is writing and posting the schedule for the week, including Sundays. I’m quick enough to have a schedule posted by Thursday, which is about mid-week given that the union contract specifies that the week starts on Monday. Normally, the worst we have is the occasional groan about Sundays. This time, however, one of my recent transfers takes offense.)

Transfer: “[My Name]? You have me working next Sunday?”

Me: “That’s right.”

Transfer: “I never work Sundays!”

Me: “You do in 11 days.”

Transfer: “I don’t work Sundays!”

Me: “[Transfer], no one likes working Sundays. I try to be fair and only schedule those who volunteer. If I’m still short, I rotate who fills in based on who hasn’t worked Sundays. Since you got here, everyone else has worked at least one Sunday. I don’t have enough volunteers, so it’s your turn.”

Transfer: “But… are we allowed to trade shifts?”

Me: “Certainly. If you can find someone to trade shifts with you, and both of you submit a form requesting the shift trade, I’ll approve a trade.”

Transfer: “Thanks!”

(I say this knowing with confidence no one is going to trade with her. And I get confirmation the following Monday in my office.)

Transfer: “[My Name]? I’m feeling a little feverish. Just in case I need to see a doctor, can you tell me how much paid sick leave I have left?”

(One read of her file later:)

Me: “You have nothing until next month.”

Transfer: “Thanks.”

(Come Tuesday, among the forms on my desk are several requests for overtime work from [Transfer]. While it’s not unusual for her to request overtime, it is unusual for her to request so much. I do a little math, and I figure out why she wants so much overtime. Among the conditions in the union contract is a listing for the maximum number of hours the union workers are allowed per week. The maximum is calculated with both regular hours and overtime. And as I said earlier, the week starts on Monday. If I grant all of these requests for overtime, I’d have to give her Sunday off, as well, or else she’d be over the maximum and the union would be coming after me. I handle it probably the best way possible, if my meeting with her on Friday is any indication.)

Transfer: “[My Name]? You denied my overtime request for today?”

Me: “I did.”

Transfer: “But I need the money.”

Me: “Well, we only have so much. Someone else put in for overtime tonight, so that’s where it went.”

(This is completely true.)

Transfer: “I put in on Tuesday with the rest of the requests! The ones you approved and I worked!”

Me: “And this request came in Monday, asking only for today. I approved the rest of your requests because you put in for them first.”

(This is half true. The request for Friday actually came in Thursday. And I got to a few requests for overtime the rest of the week before I got to [Transfer]’s, but I chose to give those hours to her instead to ensure she works the maximum this week, as she had intended.)

Transfer: “B-But…”

Me: “But now you won’t be over your maximum hours by Sunday and I can schedule you to work the whole Sunday shift?”

Transfer: “It’s Sunday! The Lord’s Day! The day of rest!”

Me: “And you’ll spend it here working. Just like the rest of us.”

Transfer: “It’s the Sabbath! That day goes to Jesus! Not you!”

Me: “And?”

Transfer: “‘The Bible says we don’t work on Sundays!”

(For the record, I was raised Catholic and could very easily resolve this with Bible verses. However, it’s no secret to that I’m now an atheist. Experience has taught me Christians don’t like hearing Bible verses from atheists, particularly if they work in my favor. Instead, I handle this on my own.)

Me: “Then don’t come in. Go with Jesus.”

Transfer: “Really?”

Me: “Absolutely. We have free will and laws that protect it. I can’t force you to be here.”

Transfer: “Thanks!”

Me: “Before you go back to work, just remember something: I asked you to be here. I asked for your day. But you’re choosing to give it to Jesus, instead. So, when you get your next paycheck and notice you’re missing a day’s pay, take it up with Jesus. Jesus got your Sunday, so Jesus is responsible for your Sunday pay.”

(Unsurprisingly, she showed up Sunday. And she’s been grumbling at me ever since.)

Checked Yourself Like So Many Other Customers Don’t

, , , , , | Right | December 10, 2018

(In this instance, I am the stupid customer. I am at the grocery store till and the clerk has just finished scanning through all my items.)

Clerk: “That will be [price].”

(I reach into my back pocket only to find that my wallet is not there.)

Me: “Oh, my God.”

(I start pulling things out of my coat pocket looking for it, including my checkbook.)

Me: “Oh, my God, I left my wallet at home! Can you hold this?”

Clerk: “What about your checkbook, ma’am?”

Me: “What about it? I used it to pay daycare yester— Oh! Do people still pay for groceries with checks?”

Clerk: “Not often, but yes.”

Me: “Okay, my ID is in my car, though; do you mind holding this here while I run out and get it?”

Clerk: “Not a problem.”

(I run out, get my ID, come back, and finish the transaction without any more hiccups.)

Me: “I am so sorry about that. I’m just usually not so scatterbrained. Thank you for being patient with me!”

Clerk: “Ma’am, you didn’t yell at me once, and you apologized even though you didn’t have to. Believe me; I’ve had worse customers.”

(As if on cue, I hear the sound of raised voices from customer service.)

Me: “I can imagine; have a great day!”

Unfiltered Story #131640

, , , | Unfiltered | December 7, 2018

I work in a coffee shop that’s most often frequented by the local youth and the occasional tourist. We have a loyal customer named Lex, who was about 17 at the time of the event and at the time and to this day (3 years after the event in question) still shows up every day for a beverage on his way home from work, along with other times in the week. Lex is gay, very shy and soft-spoken (yet extremely friendly around people he knows) and usually wears something purple or pink, with long hair. He also wears eye shadow… his orientation is pretty clear. One day we had a most unwelcome customer; a woman in her mid to late 50s who was in the line adjacent to Lex who was chatting with me in his casual, sweet tone and demeanor. Those two were the only customers in the cafe at the time.

The lady snorted after taking a good long look at Lex, then after having her order taken, she followed him to the table he normally sat at.

Woman: “You know, God sees you as a filthy, fornicating sinner!”

Lex: *flabbergasted* “Wh-what do you-”

Woman: “He hates your kind, you little faggot. You and all your b*tch-boy kind. You’re all going to hell unless you quit being little scum-bag, d*ck-sucking faggots!”

At this point Lex is stammering and starting to cry, and I can’t believe what’s going on because it sounds like the most stereotypical tirade I’ve ever heard! I see a guy about Lex’s age who had just come in the door in time to hear everything walk up angrily to the both of them and then decide to step in because this fellow is wearing a cross necklace, and I can just see it getting worse for Lex. But before I could get out from behind the counter, I’m floored;

New Guy: *stands between the woman and Lex and points a finger at her* “You’re the sickening one! Not only do you use foul language but you have the audacity to tell someone God hates them. If you’ve ever read the Bible you’ll know that Jesus loves all of us despite any flaws.”

Woman: “What?!? You mean you stand with this little sh*t?? You think don’t homosexuality is an abomination??”

New Guy: “I think exactly what the Bible says about it, but I also listened to the part where it tells us to love people unconditionally, ESPECIALLY the sinners.”

This goes on for about another minute, with the new guy not once letting her get past him to even look at Lex. My manager leaves her office  after hearing the commotion outside and tells the woman she needs to leave immediately.

Woman: “You little b*tch! You’re trying to cheat me out of the coffee I bought!”

Manager: *angrily takes out about 8 bucks worth of ones and change from her own pocket* “Take it and get the hell out, or I’m calling the police!”

Woman: *grabs the money and starts to leave, lividly screaming on her way out* “You’re all going to hell, you f*cking heathens!!!”

I turn from watching my manager to look at our new hero who turned around to finally face Lex, who is crying quite hard at this point. He sits down next to him and introduces himself as Jason.

Jason: “Are you alright?”

Lex: *sobbing* “I t-think so.”

Jason looks at Lex for a moment, then leans in to hug him. They both stayed that way for several minutes till Lex stopped crying.

Jason: “Hey, for the record, there’s only one thing God can’t do, and that’s hating us.”

Jason turned one of the worst days for Lex into one of the best, and they’ve been best friends ever since. They started working at the same shop together and right now, three years later, Lex is super excited because Jason and I asked him to be the best man at our wedding.

Life is good, and because  one bad witness for her religion was countered by a good one, that awful woman brought together the best trio of friends since the Three Stooges. A little bit of love for fellow man goes a long way.

The Urgency Of Missing Children Is Lost On Entitled Customers

, , , , | Right | December 1, 2018

(This happens when I am working at a large, national bookstore in the city. It is during the holiday season, so we are very busy. When a child goes missing in the store, a manager alerts all customers and staff over the speakers, and we must stop what we are doing until the child is found. This particular day I am working the cash register and am ringing up a young couple when we are alerted a child has gone missing.)

Me: “I apologize, but a child has gone missing. I am not allowed to finish this transaction until we have found them. Thank you for your patience.”

(We wait about thirty seconds as a manager comes by, tells us to stop working, and describes the child.)

Customer: “How long does it take to find a missing kid? I have things I need to be doing.”

Me: “I apologize, but a child is missing. I will finish your purchase immediately after if you would like to wait.”

Customer: “No one will notice. Just do it quietly.”

Me: “…”

(Thankfully, the child was found five minutes later, unharmed. The couple waited and stayed silent for the rest of the transaction, and rolled their eyes when I thanked them for their patience. I’m sorry the book you’re buying is more important than a child’s life.)

This Tita Gets Her Cable Set Up In Time To “Eat Bulaga!”

, , , , | Right | November 30, 2018

(I work at an inbound call center for a health insurance company.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]. With whom am I speaking today?”

Caller: *yells at me in a foreign language*

Me: “Ma’am, would you like me to get a translator on the line for you?”

Caller: “Yes, please!”

(A few minutes later.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, I have the translator on the line.”

(The translator introduces himself. The woman is still yelling but now having a conversation with the translator.)

Me: “Um… can I have your member ID number for verification purposes?”

(The woman says something to the translator.)

Translator: “She says she doesn’t have one; she wants to know what channel the Filipino Channel is on.”

Me: “Can you tell her she’s calling a health insurance company in Massachusetts? And that she needs to call her cable provider?”

Page 2/1312345...Last