(After getting my boyfriend a new phone case, his audio is very quiet.)
Boyfriend: *unintelligible*
Me: “What?”
Boyfriend: *more unintelligible stuff*
Me: “What did you say?”
Boyfriend: *louder* “Your name. I said your name.”
Me: “Oh.”
Boyfriend: “Why? What did you hear?”
Me: “It sounded like you said, ‘boar-nuts.’”
Boyfriend: “Boar-nuts, boar-nuts! My beautiful girlfriend, boar-nuts!”
(My name is Laura. I don’t know why I heard boar-nuts, instead.)
(I’m a cashier at a retail chain; this location is inside a mall. One day, a couple of kids, looking around 12 years old, approach my cash register. They hold up a paperclip and explain that they’re trying to replicate the famous “one red paperclip” experiment, in which you start out with a small, low-value object, such as a paperclip, and try to obtain something of much higher value through a series of barters. They ask if there’s anything in the store I can give them in exchange for the paperclip.)
Me: “Um… no, I can’t take a paperclip as payment. I don’t think there’s any store here that will.”
(They thank me and leave. Their speech sounded rehearsed and they didn’t look discouraged in the least, so I assume that they have already tried other stores in the mall and have every intention of trying more. The next customer in line comes to the counter.)
Customer: “Well, that was… bold.”
(I’ve actually always wanted to try this experiment myself, and the original “one red paperclip” experiment is possibly older than those kids are, so I’m rather impressed that they’ve heard of it and that they had the initiative to go for it. I guess they didn’t understand that you trade the items with people, and not stores. I wish I could track them down and find out if their experiment got anywhere!)
(The first Tuesday of every month is “10% off Tuesday.” I amv working the customer service desk when a customer brings me his receipt.)
Customer: “The cashier never took off my 10%.”
Me: *reading the receipt* “I’m sorry, sir, but you only spent $25. The promotion requires a minimum purchase of $50.”
Customer: “That’s ridiculous! Where does it say that?!”
(I walk exactly three feet and point to the fine print of the giant sign on the window, which clearly reads “with purchase of $50 or more in a single transaction.”)
Customer: “How do you expect anyone to read that? It’s so small!”
Me: “It… it really isn’t.”
(One of my first days working at a pizzeria, I take a pickup order over the phone. All is normal until I ask his name.)
Me: “Okay, and your name, please?”
Customer: “Yeah, it’s N****r.”
Me: “Uh, sorry? What was that?”
Customer: “It’s N****r.”
Me: *thinking I’ve misheard* “And can you spell that, please?”
Customer: “Ah, just put [Customer]. You must be new, eh?”
Me: “Yes, sir, I am. Your order will be ready in about 25 minutes.”
(A half-hour later, a man walks in the front door. The restaurant manager sees him, walks to the front, and yells:)
Manager: “HEY, N****R! What’s going on?!”
(I am shocked and mortified, and then they both start laughing.)
Manager: “Hey, [My Name], this is N****r. We’ve called him that since he was a kid because in the summer he would tan so dark he looked like a—”
Me: “—please don’t say that word again. There are children and people of other races in the dining room.”
Manager: “We’ve been calling him that for nearly forty years. Nobody ever got upset. Just relax.”
(Thankfully, I was able to move on to a much better job in my chosen field, while the restaurant was sold and reopened with new owners and new management.)
(While working at a popular fast food restaurant, I am assigned to work Booth — first drive-thru window — for the shift. Booth is responsible for cleaning the lobby and bathrooms in between cars. After taking an order, I get told over the headset that there is an “emergency” in the men’s room, and head out to deal with it. On my way, I run into the manager who has just gotten on shift.)
Manager: “Hey, [My Name], how are you?”
Me: “Um… I think I’m going to wait to answer that until I find out what an ’emergency in the men’s room’ means.”
(A couple of my coworkers overhear this, and decide to find out themselves what that means. Just then I get a beep that another car has arrived, and head back to the booth to take the order. While I’m in there, I hear my coworkers SCREAMING in horror. Quick note about the layout of this store: the booth is in the corner of the lobby, and the hallway to the bathrooms is on the opposite corner. So, I could hear them from down the hall, around two corners, across the lobby, and through the very heavy door of my booth. After finishing with the order, I head back out, where my manager is heading towards the bathrooms with a garbage bag and roll of paper towels.)
Manager: “Go back to Booth.”
Me: “But aren’t I—”
Manager: “NO! Go back to Booth!”
(I later saw him exiting the bathrooms carrying the garbage bag, completely full of dirty paper towels. I later heard from my coworkers that it was diarrhea… all over the floor.)
