Time… For A Break

, , , , | Working | June 29, 2018

Our department is horribly understaffed, and has been all day. My coworker and only coverage comes up and asks me if he can leave ten minutes early to catch his bus; I haven’t yet had my first break and need to go before he leaves.

As I turn to check the computer at our desk for the time, I spot a couple obviously waiting for help. I try to do three things at once: let my coworker know I need a break before he can go, greet the customer, and check the time.

What I end up doing is turning to the customer with a giant smile on my face and proclaiming in my cheeriest customer service voice, “Hi, what time is it?”

Fortunately, they thought it was funny.

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Tornadoes On Aisle Four

, , , , , , , | Friendly | June 28, 2018

(I am watching a video of the aftermath of a tornado after it directly hits a [Giant Retailer]. My friend, who works at [Giant Retailer], is chatting with me over instant messenger, so I send him the video. It is important to note that he lives in South Carolina.)

Me: *jokingly* “So, what’s the [Giant Retailer] code for, ‘Oh, s***, a tornado!’?”

Friend: “I… don’t know for certain, besides the usual shelter-in-place routine, you know, finding a nice, safe, empty room or hall — with no windows or anything — to sit and put my head between my legs in. We only ever had the one thing happen not long after I started. Store-wise, though, we shut down. Everyone already in the store needs to get ready to shelter in place if the tornado actually hits; anybody trying to come in after we shut down needs to go back home, ‘cause we ain’t opening the doors until it passes… Yeah, we literally had a guy demanding to be let in for ‘one thing’ that time.”

Me: “That joke flew so far over your head, it’s somewhere between Neptune and Pluto.”

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Dungeons And Dragons, No Drinks

, , , , | Working | June 28, 2018

(My Dungeons and Dragons group always plays at a local game café that’s nearly perfect: it’s quiet, has no entrance fees, and has an amazing menu with plenty of options for everyone. Unfortunately, the big downside to this place is that the service is absolutely terrible. The food takes forever to come, and the server rarely ever comes to check on us more than once in the four or more hours we are there. But this session is the worst yet; one person isn’t ready to order with the rest of us and asks the server to come back in five minutes, which he does, but that one person’s food takes more than twice as long to arrive as the rest, despite only being ordered a few minutes later. Everyone else’s drinks come well after the food, as if the server has nearly forgotten we ordered them. Mine, on the other hand, don’t come at all, and he never returns to our table after that, so I decide I can do without it, assuming that maybe he didn’t hear me ask for it or something. But, sure enough, when I get my check there’s a charge for the drink I never got.)

Me: *pointing to the drink charge* “I never got a drink.”

Server: “Oh, didn’t I bring it to you?”

Me: “Nope.”

Server: “Okay.” *reprints my bill, hands it to me without another word*

(He never apologized or explained what happened. As soon as I paid, he simply turned his attention to the next person in my group as if I didn’t exist. If it wasn’t our only real option for a place to play, I’d say we should boycott them until they work on their service skills!)

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Pastafarianism Is Not For Me

, , , , , | Related | June 27, 2018

(My father is very much an “eat everything on your plate” parent. When I am preschool age, he often cooks up this pasta dish with ground beef, macaroni, and tomato sauce that I absolutely hate. Suppers with this dish often drag on for hours, because I just cannot eat this dish and would rather go hungry.)

Dad: “Oh, for crying out loud. Just f****** eat it already.”

Me: *tries to stuff forkful in my mouth at once, only to gag*

Dad: *cursing and swearing* “Stop acting up and eat it.”

Me: “I can’t!”

(My mom wordlessly gets up and leaves the dining room, returning a bit later with a plate of corn — something I like, but my father hates. She sets the plate down in front of my father.)

Dad: “What the f*** is this?”

Mom: “You need to finish the whole plate. If she has to eat something she hates, then so do you.”

Dad: *grumbles, snatches my plate away from me, and storms out of the room*

(From then on, I never had to eat the pasta dish. Instead, my mom would cook some of the ground beef on its own and would give it to me with some vegetables. Twenty years later, though, just the smell of pasta cooking makes me feel nauseated.)

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Unfiltered Story #115238

| Unfiltered | June 26, 2018

(One time we were backed up hard on drive-thru of a popular Canadian coffee franchise, and we were getting to a breaking point. Suddenly, in all of our headsets yelled the client who had been stuck on the speaker box sensor after ordering five minutes ago. (Note: when we first serve customers at the speaker box, we start with, “Welcome to [coffee shop]!”)

Not realizing that the microphone doesn’t shut off until he drives off it, and frustrated by the delay, the customer started yelling out loud to himself.
Customer: Bien, ‘Welcome to [coffee shop]’, tabarnak!

(And that just did it. We all broke down from laughter and couldn’t keep working. There’s just something magical about French curse words that make them more amusing than anything else.

It only lasted for a few seconds because the manager had also overheard the message, and came out to rightfully give us a kick in the ass to get it together and get back to work. But it was enough to reset the morale just enough to get through the rush!)