I work in a children’s museum that has a large event every year that involves snow.

Me: “Hi, thanks for calling [Museum]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “What time is the snow event open tomorrow?”

Me: “Ten to five every day; do you have any other questions?”

Customer: “Is it real snow?”

Me: “Yes, we have real snow.”

Customer: “Tell me, is it wet? Is it really cold, too?”

Me: “Have you ever visited anywhere where it snows? Big Bear or another destination like that?”

Customer: “Yes, but that wasn’t real snow!”

Related:
Snow Way They’re That Dumb

It is in the middle of a busy morning rush and I’m trying to get drinks out quickly when a mom repeatedly calls for my attention off to the side of the handoff bar. 

Me: “What can I help you with?”

Customer: “My daughter says you made her drink wrong!”

Me: “Oh, I apologize. What was it that she wanted?”

Customer: “She wanted that cotton candy drink!”

I take the cup from her and look at the markings. Yep, I did it right. I slide it back over to the mom. 

Me: “Ma’am, this is the correct drink.”

Customer: “She says it’s supposed to be blue!”

Me: “Blue?”

Customer: “Yeah! She says the picture on the secret website shows that it’s blue!”

I piece together what happened rather quickly; there’s a well-known website that posts “secret recipes” for us to make, but we don’t actually have any of those recipes in store, nor do we regularly check them. However, I know for a fact that a recently failed drink was the only one to ever be blue in color, so I figure they just used the wrong picture. 

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but they probably just used the wrong picture. I assure you that this is the cotton candy drink.”

Customer: “Can you make it blue, though?”

Me: “No, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “I don’t have anything at my disposal that would make the drink blue. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Well, can you make it any sort of color, then?”

Me: “I can maybe add some strawberry to it, to make it a little pink?”

Customer: “Perfect! And while you’re at it, can you add some blue, too? Make it purple when it’s all mixed up?”

Related:
Explaining It Until You’re Pink And Purple

The store I work at closes at 11:00 pm. Even though it’s been like that for years, people still show up at the last minute. Many times, we’ve had to turn people away because we’re closed and ready to go home. It’s a small store, so all the registers are right next to the front door. It’s 11:10, so, of course, we have already turned the sliding door off. I am pulling the very last cash drawer when suddenly someone starts forcing the doors open.

Customer: “Can I get a bottle of booze?”

Me: “No, sir, we closed ten minutes ago.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Because we close at 11:00.”

Customer: “Since when?”

Me: “Six years ago.”

Customer: “How was I supposed to know you were closed?”

Me: “You had to forcibly open the sliding doors that were turned off.”

Customer: “Whatever. You’re a b****, anyway.”

Me: “I’m okay with that. You still need to leave.”

Customer: “Fine.”

He mumbled something about bad customer service on his way out.

Related:
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 38
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 37
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 36
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 35
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 34

My workplace, like most, has seen a drop in business due to a recent spreading illness, and many employees, including me, were furloughed. Just before the crisis struck, our general manager left, and a higher-level executive has been serving as the interim GM in his stead until a new one is hired. I was originally handpicked by the dealer group’s lead recruiter and brought in by the old GM for what was, at the time, a newly-created position, and while results during my years of employment show that I excelled in increasing my department’s performance and efficiency, my job is one that doesn’t exist in every store. Even during normal times, I always felt it was a bit vulnerable, so it’s not a huge surprise when the interim GM calls me to let me know I’m being laid off.

Another of my coworkers is notified of being transferred to a different location, as well, and we have grown to become friends over the years, so we coordinate to go pack up our desks at the same time to allow for a socially distant farewell. When we arrive, something unexpected happens: our department managers are surprised to see us and ask us why we’re there.

We explain, to their shock, that we’ve come to pick up our things and say our goodbyes because we don’t work there anymore. As we talk to them and other employees, we start to see a bigger, weirder picture. Unsurprisingly, we were not the only people who were notified that we no longer work for the store; in fact, there were layoffs in every department. But more surprising: among the layoffs were someone who had worked at the store for fifteen years, and another employee who sold more cars than anyone else who worked there every year and was, in fact, consistently one of the top sellers in the entire dealer group. And the salesperson wasn’t transferred like my friend; he was let go. Because, well, apparently, none of the department managers were consulted.

And here’s where it becomes truly bizarre: not only were they not consulted, but the managers were not even informed of the layoffs. Before or after! No meetings, no calls, not even a perfunctory email or text message. The managers only caught wind of what had happened and to whom as their now-ex-employees reached out to them by call, text, or — in our case — showing up seemingly out of the blue to retrieve our belongings.

I can’t say I had any particular expectations of my visit that day, but I did not anticipate being the one to tell my bosses I was laid off. I’m pretty sure it’s usually the other way around!

I work night audit in a hotel. Monterey is a tourist town drawing in people from all over the world. The surrounding towns, however, are generally much less attractive vacation spots. We regularly get guests who are from Monterey county but not from Monterey. They come to the town, usually for honeymoons, because we have a reputation of being a place rich people go on vacation, but we’re close enough to home they can drive.  

One night, I’m checking in one such couple, and a pair of our regulars have come in behind them. They are an older Swedish couple that stays with us every year for their anniversary.

Newlywed Husband: “Hey, man, so what’s there to do in this town? I mean besides golf and beaches.”

Me: “Well, there are a few museums, there is Carmel Valley, Cannery Row, several hiking trails, and of course, the world-famous Monterey Bay Aquarium.”

His wife scoffs.

Newlywed Wife: “The aquarium, really? I’ve gone there every year since kindergarten on a school trip; you expect me to believe its world-famous?”

Mr. Swede, in the most stereotypical Swedish accent ever — much more exaggerated than his normal voice — with his wife nodding along, speaks up.

Mr. Swede: “Oh, ja, it is, it is. We come all the vay from Stockholm every year just to see it. Is amazing; so lucky you are to see as child.”

The wives start discussing the fish with each other, sharing funny stories while I finish checking in the newlyweds, hand them their keys, and send them on their way.

Mr. Swede changes to his normal voice as soon as they get on the elevator.

Mr. Swede: “So sad how little one appreciates the wonders close to home.”

Me: “I was concerned something had happened to your voice.”

Mr. Swede: “Ah, yes, it is aquarium you see, turns me into Outrageous Over Top Accent Man, makes your bored Americans suddenly see the magic of the place. You send a bottle of our usual wine to their room and put it on our bill. Put note on it; if they want to come with us to aquarium sometime this week we will buy their tickets. Outrageous Accent Man loves being tour guide.”

Mrs. Swede: *Sighs* “Ya, every year he finds a bored American to show around, is his favorite game. The Accent gets worse every year. This is the fastest it has ever found its new friend, though.”

According to the day shift, the couples met up in the lobby a few days later and left the hotel together. I hope The Accent had a good time that year. They weren’t able to visit like usual this year; I hope they are doing well and we see them next year.

Related:
In Soviet Russia, Accent Speaks You

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