On Cold Days, The Customers Are Colder

, , , , , | Right | March 26, 2021

It was one of the coldest winter days this year in my part of Ontario; the temperature is -25 degrees, -30 with the wind chill. A lady called to complain that the takeout she ordered got cold enough on the fifteen-minute drive home that she had to rewarm it.

It was hard to find the sincerity in my voice to apologize to her.

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A Stupid Call By Any Metric, Part 4

, , , , , | Right | March 26, 2021

I am an Australian working in a bar and restaurant in a ski town in British Columbia. Lots of tourists come through, and this particular one is an American man around fifty years old. I am mildly hungover and have just walked into work.

Tourist: “What do you have on tap?”

He is standing in front of the fourteen taps and ignoring the drink menu on the counter.

Me: “What are you looking for? IPA? Pale ale? Lager?”

Tourist: “Lager.”

Me: “We have this one from Vancouver, or this one which is brewed locally, just eight k’s down the road.”

K is standard slang for kilometres in a metric country.

Tourist: “Eight what?”

Me: “Eight kilometres.”

Tourist: “What?”

I speak slowly, as my Australian accent can admittedly throw Americans sometimes.

Me: “Eight kilometres.”

The tourist gives up trying to figure out what I was saying.

Me: “Here’s a sample.”

I slide him across a taster.

Tourist: “That’s fine. I’ll have one of those.”

I pour the beer and ring it up.

Me: “$8.10, please.”

Tourist: “Is that in dollars?”

Me: “Yes, Canadian dollars.”

Tourist: “What is it in American dollars?”

Me: “Do you know where you are, sir?”

Tourist: *Indignantly* “Yes.”

Me: “Well, that is why it is in Canadian.”

He paid and walked off in a huff. I could have been more delicate, but guess what? Things change when you cross international borders!

A Stupid Call By Any Metric, Part 3
A Stupid Call By Any Metric, Part 2
A Stupid Call By Any Metric

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It’s A Gamble If She Makes Her Way To Your Restaurant

, , , , , , | Right | March 24, 2021

I’m an employee in a casino’s food and beverage department. One morning, I go to the in-house fast food chain for a coffee on my break. The cashier takes my order but needs to run to the back for a moment and leaves the counter alone. An old woman walks up in a huff.

Customer: “Well? Aren’t you working right now? Don’t you work here?!”

Me: “I don’t work for [Fast Food Restaurant]; I’m also a customer here right now.”

Customer: “NO! DO. YOU. WORK. HERE?!”

Me: “In the casino or [Fast Food Restaurant]? I work in the casino’s restaurant. They just lease the space; we don’t share staff.”

Customer: *Rolling her eyes* “Well. No one is taking my order!”

Not a second later, the cashier returns in full [Fast Food Restaurant] uniform and cheerfully apologizes for the wait. She hands me my coffee and quickly begins taking the old woman’s order when she’s immediately cut off.

Customer: “Hold on! I don’t know what I want! Do you have [Famous Item from another fast food chain]?”

I shot the cashier a sympathetic glance and returned to my work area as fast as I could.

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How To Make An Entrance

, , , , , , | Right | March 23, 2021

A group of three people, one of whom is using a walker, enters the foyer area of the warehouse here I work. It is about -4°C/25°F plus windchill coming in through the doors. After about twenty minutes, the gentleman in the group approaches me.

Gentleman: “We are waiting for our friend who has the card, but can we come inside? My aunt is feeling really cold.”

Me: “Oh, definitely! Tell her to sit right here.” *Points to a spot* “It’s the warmest spot at the entrance.”

With many thanks, they enter and stay put about six feet behind me. In the almost forty-five minutes they wait for their friend, they overhear me, multiple times, asking people for their membership cards.

At about the half-hour mark, I ask one “lady” for her card. I won’t repeat her response because I like to keep things family-friendly. I do not react or comment, as I have been called worse. From behind me, I hear:

Gentleman: *Loudly* “Well, ain’t she special!”

The “lady” starts swearing at him.

Gentleman: *To me* “Do you get that a lot?”

Me: “Unfortunately, yes. But all I can do is ask if they have their card.”

Gentleman: “Well, that’s not right!”

Me: “Sir, you can say that. I can’t.”

We repeat the request and response with a few more members. The gentleman has various retorts.

Gentleman: “D***! Even I know the rules, and I ain’t even a member.”

Gentleman: “Too cool to pull plastic!”

Gentleman: “Yooo! Are you deaf?”

By the time their friend showed up, this group, especially the gentleman, called out at least ten people for ignoring quite publicly-known policy for the membership-only store!

They made my normally miserable Saturday entrance shift MUCH more enjoyable! They called out the members for behaviour that I cannot — at least, not if I want to keep my job.

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The Wheels On The Bus Go Brrrrrrr

, , , , | Legal | March 21, 2021

At the time of this story, the public transit tickets in my city were low-tech cardboard rectangles, with printed serial numbers as their only security device. At work, we’d occasionally joke about how easy it would be to counterfeit the tickets. I never took it seriously; it cost around $80 per month to commute to work on the bus while our company gave us $400 per month, tax-free, to cover downtown parking.

But one of my coworkers always seemed to bring up the subject of fake tickets. Although he had the reputation of being a man who always looked for an edge, no one believed he’d be that cheap.

Then, one fateful Tuesday, the coworker came in three hours late. He just said “something” had happened on his bus and he didn’t want to talk about it. Then, in the late afternoon, he was called into the manager’s office, and twenty minutes later, he was marched out the door with his personal effects.

It turned out he had done more than just talk about counterfeiting tickets. On that day, the transit police had arrested him as he was about to drop a phony ticket into the bin. His downfall was that he had only copied one ticket over and over so the five he had in his wallet were the same — and identical to several dozen that they had accumulated over a few months. He faced a misdemeanor and a hefty fine.

And, of course, he’d used our company’s high-quality color printers to make them. As luck would have it, we’d had an IT audit the night before. It seemed our printers kept digital records of what was printed and who printed them, and his ID came up associated with the images he’s been forging.

To save less than $1000 per year, he risked and lost a six-figure salary. Talk about instant Karma.

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