A Car By Any Other Name

, , , | Right | February 20, 2019

(Our dealership service department runs a skeleton crew on Saturdays; on the weekdays there are five service advisors working but on Saturdays there’s only one. I’m the newest employee and therefore I’m the “lucky” one to work Saturdays. This means if anyone has a question on Saturday they get me, even if they usually work with someone else. A customer approaches me and tells me she’s glad to see a woman working in my position and that she’s had experiences with men in shops treating her like she doesn’t know anything. She starts to ask questions about a symptom she’s having, then asks if the vehicle might still be under warranty. Different cars carry different warranties, so I ask her for more information.)

Me: “What kind of car do you have?”

Customer: “Um… I’m not sure.”

Me: *wondering how some people have no idea what they drive, though it happens periodically* “Has it been here before? I can try looking it up in our system.”

Customer: “Oh, yes, I’ve brought it here many times!”

Me: “Perfect! Let’s try to find you in the computer. What’s your phone number? That’s the easiest way to look up cars in our database; the last name lookup function can be buggy sometimes.”

Customer: “Um… I’m not sure. Try [number].”

Me: *types it in* “It doesn’t look like it came up under that number. Do you have another?”

Customer: “Try [different number].”

Me: *tries the new number* “Nope, still no luck. Sorry.”

Customer: “I can’t think of any other numbers.”

Me: “Maybe we should try your last name after all; it does work most of the time.”

Customer: “Um… I don’t know what name it’s under… How about a social security number? I bet that would find it!”

Me: “No. We don’t do financing in the service department, so we would never collect information like that about a customer, let alone save it.”

Customer: “Oh. I guess I didn’t buy the car from you guys, anyway, so I never would have filled that out here even for the credit.”

Me: “Yeah, let’s try the name lookup. What’s your last name?”

Customer: “I don’t know; I’m not sure what name it’s under. Try [Name that’s usually a first name].”

Me: *types it in and it doesn’t come up* “It doesn’t seem to be working… Just to be sure, that’s your last name?”

Customer: “No, it’s my first name.”

Me: “Sorry about that! It does file by last names. What’s yours?”

Customer: “[First Name].”

Me: “No, your last name.”

Customer: “[First Name].”

(When she did eventually manage to remember what her last name was, surprise! We found her car in the system. But I still wonder how she doesn’t know what type of car she drives, what her phone number is, or what her name is, but was SURE I could find her car with her specific social security number that she was so ready to give out. I also did not tell her that when people treat her like she doesn’t know anything… it’s probably not because she’s a woman.)

The Wildest Ride Is Before The Ride

, , , , | Right | February 20, 2019

(I am pregnant, and I am working still; I work in a play area for children. Sometimes parents are not the most understanding people.)

Me: *just coming back from the bathroom for the eighth time*

Customer: “My boys have been waiting for this ride; you need to stop leaving. It’s your job to man this ride.”

Me: “I’m sorry. Okay, let me check your height, sweetie.”

(I direct him towards the height requirement, and he’s a couple inches too short; I don’t count hair.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sweetie. You’re too small for this ride.”

(The child begins to argue, but the brother, who is clearly tall enough, goes on.)

Customer: “He’s not that small; just let him on.” *starts to get irritated, crossing their arms, and giving off angry body language*

Me: “I’m sorry. I can’t let him ride for safety reasons”

Customer: “It’s fine; I’m okay with it.”

(The customer then tries to usher the smaller child on the ride. I hold out my arm to stop the child.)

Me: *feels a pain, so I suck in and my eyes widen* “I’m sorry, but I cannot let him on.”

(The customer glares, then grabs the boys and storms off in a huff. The manager walks over to the ride when I get back from another pee break.)

Manager: *looks at me with a smirk* “She tried to let the kid on when you were gone, then threatened to sue us.”

Bi-Pretzel Disorder

, , , , | Right | February 19, 2019

(I’m working the chocolate display case in a candy store when a woman approaches me.)

Customer: “How much are the chocolate pretzels?”

Me: *speaking normally* “Well, they’re sold by weight, but they’re usually around two or three dollars.”

Customer: *angrily* “Well, sorry to bother you!”

(I try to process what just happened while the woman walks over to my coworker.)

Woman: “How much are the chocolate pretzels?”

Coworker: “They’re sold by weight, usually around two or three dollars.”

Woman: “Thank you. I’ll have some!”

(To this day I still don’t understand how I offended her.)

Strange But True

, , , , | Friendly | February 19, 2019

(I’ve just woken up and I’m walking by the front door of my apartment when someone knocks. Half asleep, I start to reach for the deadbolt, and then I pause.)

Me: “Who is it?”

Stranger: *pause* “A stranger.”

Me: “Nope.”

Stranger: “Oh. Okay. Bye.”

(And he left. Kind of creepy, but at least he was honest?)

Karma Lives In Ohio

, , , , , | Working | February 18, 2019

(I work in an electronics lab at a high-tech manufacturer in California. My supervisor sometimes takes credit for my work. One day a customer in Ohio is having trouble with their user interface port, a problem I have already solved. My supervisor asks me to explain the fix, all the while repeating, “I do NOT want to go to Ohio!” Later, the owner walks in for an update.)

Owner: “So, did you come up with a solution?”

Supervisor: “Yes, it seems that—“ *repeats my solution as his own*

Owner: “That’s good work, [Supervisor]. I’m sending you to Ohio to fix this customer’s unit.”

Me: *suppressing a shriek of laughter*

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