Unfiltered Story #97193

, , | Unfiltered | October 2, 2017

I work as a floor supervisor in a pizza delivery call centre, where we take the incoming calls for all of our stores. A few of our locations are open for lunch, but most don’t open until mid afternoon. It was about 2PM when one of my staff transferred an irate caller to me.

Me: “Thank you for holding, [MyName] speaking.”

Customer: “Are you the f***** boss, you f***** b****?”

Me: [somewhat taken aback] “I’m the supervisor on duty, if that’s what you mean, sir.”

Customer: “Then you’re the g**d**** f***** c*** I want to talk to! Your f***** useless g**d**** piece of s*** staff won’t make my f***** pizza!”

Me: “Sir, I’m happy to help in any way I can, but I need you to stop swearing.”

Customer: “Don’t you f****** tell me to stop f******* swearing, you f***** b****! I want you to get your lazy g**d**** f***** a** into the back right this f****** minute and make my g**d**** f***** pizza, or I’m going to make you very f**** sorry!”

I enter the customer’s phone number into my computer and see that he is calling from a city 500 km away. Furthermore, the shop that delivers to this individual will not open for another two hours.

Me: “Sir, the shop that delivers to you doesn’t open until 4PM.”

Customer: “Don’t you f***** lie to me, you g**d**** f***** s**** a**** piece of f**** s****! If you were really f***** closed, nobody would have answered the g**d**** f**** phone, you useless f***** b****! Now you are going to get your lazy worthless fat f***** a** into the f****** back and make my g**d**** f****** pizza right this f****** minute, and I’m not going to f***** pay one f***** cent for it either, because you’re nothing but a stupid f****** c*** who couldn’t f***** count my f***** change!!”

[I had to stuff a fist in my mouth to cover a giggling fit at the word ‘fat” because at the time I was almost 20 lb underweight.]

Me [when I had control of my voice again]: “Sir, I can’t do that. I’m not in one of the stores, I’m in a call centre. And the call centre is not even in Saskatoon. It’s in Edmonton.”

Customer: [screaming] “I don’t give a g**d**** f*** where you f**** are, I just want my f***** pizza, you worthless f***** piece of f***** s****!!”

[The volume of his screams was physically painful. I had to hold the headset away from my ear until he stopped yelling. I took the opportunity to quickly check the internet for the next available flight to his city.]

Me: “Very well, sir. The total price for your pizza will be $498.37, including tax, delivery, and my plane fare. I should be arriving in Saskatoon at approximately 5:30 and I expect it will take another half hour at least to get from the airport to the shop. You can expect to receive your pizza about 30-40 minutes after that.”

Customer: “What the f*** are you f**** talking about?”

Me: “As I already told you, sir, I’m not even in the same province as you are. If you really want me to come down and make a pizza for you, I’m happy to oblige, but you’ll need to reimburse me for the plane ticket and allow enough time for the flight to arrive.”

Customer: “F*** you, b****1” [click]

Mother Has Spoken… Again And Again And…

, , , , , | Related | October 2, 2017

(My mom has a knack for dealing with people on phones and getting her way. Sometimes it’s a blessing and sometimes it’s a curse. I do aspire to be as knowledgeable and headstrong she is when dealing with issues, but I hate to admit that one of her methods is to use the annoyance of repetition. This happens when my sister is dealing with an issue with her university.)

Sister: “I finally found out why I couldn’t access my schedule for my program. Apparently, they didn’t receive my chemistry mark.”

Mom: “What? But you sent that in months ago.”

Sister: “I know, but it wasn’t on my file. They found it, though, and I should get my schedule Tuesday.”

Mom: “But I don’t understand; you sent that in months ago.”

Sister: “I know, but I guess it got lost. It’s all dealt with though; they found my chemistry mark.”

Mom: “But you sent your chemistry mark in months ago.”

Sister: “Yes, I did. Things can get lost, though. I’m glad they found it, but I am irked that they didn’t tell me what was wrong earlier.”

Mom: “But you sent your chemistry mark in months ago.”

Sister: “Mom, did you hear the part where I said they found it and that they’ll get my schedule to me as soon as they can?”

Mom: “Yeah.”

Sister: “So, you know that the issue is solved, right? I’ll get my schedule soon.”

Mom: “I just don’t understand.”

Sister: “Don’t understand what? Everything is sorted.”

Mom: “But you sent your chemistry mark in months ago; why didn’t they have it?”

(Cue face-palming from my sister.)

Not Very Vanilla Behavior

, , , , , , | Right | October 2, 2017

I worked at a bakery and coffee shop for the summer. It had been around for over a century and was a huge tourist draw. It was always monstrously busy, with a line out the door every day.

One day, in the middle of a rush, a woman in her 60s came up and ordered a “French Vanilla.” I asked her to clarify what she would like made with French Vanilla: a latte, a cappuccino, a macchiato, etc. She looked at me like I had slapped her, and said she didn’t want any of that, just a French Vanilla.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to define “adjective” for her. Instead I told her that we could add vanilla syrup to any of our drinks, but that she needed to tell me which drink she wanted. Her friend started to chime in about my incompetence and mumbled, “Just give the woman her godd*** French Vanilla, already.”

My supervisor came over and, not realizing what was happening, complicated the situation by telling them that we didn’t actually have French Vanilla syrup, just regular vanilla syrup. The woman then screamed, in front of a few dozen people, “I JUST WANT A FRENCH VANILLA!”. I eventually just made her a vanilla latte, which she said was the worst thing she had ever tasted.

A couple months later, I went into a very popular chain coffee shop and saw “French Vanilla” listed on their menu, and it all made sense. What was the drink? Basically, a vanilla latte.

Should Have Gone On A Diet Coke Break

, , , | Learning | September 30, 2017

(My friends and I have just come in from a night out, and a bunch of them head to the sub shop on campus. I head back to my dorm first to drop off something, and decide to grab a can of pop to drink on my way to meet them. As we are heading back to our dorm with our sandwiches, I discard my can into a big trolley that we have been told is for recycling while they wait for bins to be delivered. Shortly afterwards, a girl comes up to me and I think she’s a friend of a friend at first.)

RA: “All right, so it was you who had the open can of alcohol. What’s your name?”

(I then notice the notepad in her hand and realize she is an RA about to write me up.)

Me: “No, I had a can of pop that I was drinking.”

RA: “I know what I saw; you had an open can of beer.”

Me: “Uh, no. I’m sorry; it was a can of Diet Coke. I can show it to you if you want.”

RA: “Yes, let’s go back and see it.”

Me: *thinking* “Seriously?” *saying* “Fine.”

(The whole walk back she is super smug, and I think she thought I was too drunk to realize what I was drinking. Joke is on her, because when we get up to the trolley, my can of Diet Coke is the only one there and I proudly point at it. I see her face turn red, but she is determined to write me up for something.)

RA: “Well, you shouldn’t discard your trash in there. That’s very rude and disrespectful; this isn’t meant for recycling.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry; I was told we were supposed to put any recycling in there until the shop received their new recycling bins from the university. Did they get their new bins?”

RA: “What are you talking about? They’ve always had recycling bins. They’re right…”

(That’s when she realized there weren’t any around, and talked to the staff at the shop to confirm the trolley was to be used for recycling. I offered to remove the can if it was a problem, but the death stare she gave me just told me to let it go.)

Displaying Full Evidence Of Idiocy

, , , , , , , | Right | September 29, 2017

A customer pulls up in a burgundy taxi, tells the driver to wait, and then comes into the store.

He then pulls a knife and a garbage bag, and tells me to fill the bag with cartons of cigarettes.

I fill the bag, and watch as the crook then runs into what he thinks is his burgundy taxi, and slams the door behind himself.

Unbeknownst to him, I have just watched the taxi drive away, after seeing him attempt to rob the store, and a burgundy cop car, driven by a store regular, pull up.

Now the cop has just pulled into the gas station to get fuel, and some random guy has jumped into the back of his cop car, holding a knife and a bag full of stolen cigarette cartons, and locked himself in…

It takes a full hour for the cop to take my statement, because we can’t stop laughing at the idiot who arrested himself while holding the evidence of his robbery.

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