Not Buying It? Yeah, I’m Not Buying That

, , , , , , | Right | November 6, 2018

(I am a pharmacy technician. At the pharmacy where I work, we have those special shopping carts for small children, shaped like cars. I’m helping a family — a mom, teenage daughter, and a preschool girl, roughly four or five — with one such cart. They have a few items to ring out besides their prescriptions. I notice the little girl is holding something in her hands. Thinking it’s a toy her mom promised to buy her, I point it out to her sister.)

Me: *pointing at the girl* “Are you buying that, as well?”

Sister: “Buying… Oh, where did you get that?! May I see that? Thank you. We’re just going to put that over here.” *puts it on the counter, clearly not buying it*

(It was a bottle of shampoo, by the way. On closer inspection, the sister pulled out — I kid you not — over twenty more bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and other hair care products. The little girl must’ve grabbed everything when they drove through the beauty section. The sister was apologetic and everything, just glad I said something, as some of the stuff was really pricey, and everything in her car easily came out to over $100. The kid’s going to have really expensive tastes when she grows up!)

Bumper-To-Bumper Madness

, , , , , | Legal | November 5, 2018

(I decide to go get fast food and bring my dog with me. The line is pretty long and I’m closer to the white SUV in front of me than I normally would be. Usually my dog sits very calmly in the back seat, but for whatever reason, she picks that afternoon to sneak up behind me and lick the back of my ear. This startles me into taking my foot off the brake, and given how little space there is between me and the SUV, I end up rolling into her bumper. Given how slowly I am moving, my car barely taps her vehicle. I immediately roll down my window and start apologizing, and figure she will pull out of line so we can exchange insurance. Instead, she turns off her car, blocking the entire line, and gets out of her car to start screaming at me.)

Woman: “What the f***?! You smashed into my car! What is f****** wrong with you?! I felt my entire body jerking; I think you injured my back! I’m calling the police!”

(The woman holds up the entire line while calling the police. Since both our windows are down, I get to hear her conversation with 911.)

Woman: “Hello, yes? I want to report a car accident. The car behind me rammed into my car and completely destroyed my bumper! My car is completely destroyed, and I think I am injured, as well! My whole body hurts; my back and neck are in agony!”

(She continues to rant at the emergency operator, and seems to reluctantly answer some questions. At some point the operator must advise her to move her vehicle if possible, because she ends the call by rolling her eyes and finally pulling into a parking spot. I pull into a spot nearby. Lo and behold, the only damage done to her car is a small dent that’s MAYBE an inch long. After shrieking at somebody on the phone for a while — her window is rolled up now and I can only judge from body language — she gets out of her car and taps on my window.)

Woman: “Give me your info!”

Me: *figuring her theatrics are because she intends to scam her way into a big insurance pay-out* “I think it would be better for both of us if we wait for the police.”

Woman: “FINE!”

(The woman then proceeds to make a big show of photographing the “damage” and glaring at me. After a few minutes, thanks to her exaggerations, two police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck all arrive on the scene, anticipating a totaled vehicle and injured passenger. Instead they find her very uninjured and moving energetically around her car taking pictures of a tiny dent from a thousand angles. One of the firemen actually looks around as if he’s worried they came to the wrong place. After a few seconds of confusion, however, I get to enjoy watching nine emergency workers go from baffled to PISSED. She must pick up on their mood, because she starts to defensively whine about “back and neck pain” and, in a laughable attempt to legitimize her “injuries,” asks the paramedic for “a heating pad.”)

Paramedic: *leveling her with the iciest glare I’ve seen in some time* “We don’t carry things like that, ma’am; we’re equipped to handle emergencies.”

(At that point, two police officers talk to us separately. After some questions to get all the facts, I get to give my side of things at last.)

Officer: “Were you at fault?”

Me: “Yes, but I was in the drive-thru. My foot wasn’t even on the accelerator. I was going maybe three miles per hour. I barely tapped her car; in fact, I’m pretty sure the only reason there is any damage at all is because my licence plate is bent, so the corner dented her bumper. There is absolutely no way I could have injured her, and frankly I’d like it on record that I think she is attempting to make a fraudulent insurance claim.”

(I’m pretty worked up at this attempt to scam me, and so I can’t blame the officer for chuckling at my “on the record” comment. She tells me to take a deep breath, and patiently explains that with so little damage this is a civil matter and I’m better off taking a lot of pictures and warning my insurance company. She does smile and promise to be “thorough” in her report, which I assume is cop speak for “call her a lunatic who wastes emergency resources.” I do what the officer advises and warn my insurance. A few weeks later, I see that they pay her out only $750 for repairs, which is absolutely fair; I did still damage her car, however slightly. I show the letter to my father later that week since he works in insurance and has been a huge help during the process.)

Dad: “You know, I bet if she’d been calm and just asked for you info like a normal person, she’d have gotten a couple thousand out of the deal, maybe even a free rental car for the day it was in the shop. But since she kicked up such a fuss, they must have had one of their people go out and actually appraise the damage. People like that are always their own worst enemy.”

Knows How To Push Your Buttons By Not Knowing How To Push Buttons

, , , , | Right | November 4, 2018

(We keep certain cold medicines in a locked case due to high theft and due to teenagers using them to get high. There’s a button right next to said case, clearly labeled, to press for assistance. Pressing the button sends out a message over the PA system for a front store associate to come unlock the case and bring the items to the till. It’s a Sunday morning when this happens.)

Customer #1: “Hi, your medicine case is locked; can you come unlock it for me?”

Me: “We don’t have the keys to unlock it. You just press the button and someone will come get it.”

Customer #1: “Where? I can’t find it!”

(I start to walk out of the pharmacy to show her, when she finds it and hits the button. About ten minutes later, another customer walks up.)

Customer #2: “Hey, can you guys unlock the case?”

Me: “No, but there’s a button you can press and someone with the keys can unlock it.”

(Not even five minutes later, the button sounds.)

Me: “It’s not even nine yet.”

Unfiltered Story #124580

, , | Unfiltered | October 29, 2018

(I’m working the closing shift for a deli training the new girl, Jess, on how to close down the department.  Company policy states we must close a half hour before the store closes to clean the slicers, floors, and counters.  The deli is closed but a preppy-looking couple shows up wanting service.  After telling the couple the department closed, they continue to insist on being serviced.  Jess approaches me with the issue.)

Jess:  Hey.  The couple over there is demanding to be serviced.

Me:  And did you tell them that we’re closed?

Jess:  Yes, but they’re still arguing this point.  What else can I do?

Me:  Follow me, I’ll take care of it.

(I walk over to the counter where the couple is)

Me:  Yes, what’s the problem?

Man:  No problem.  We just want to be serviced.

Me:  Well, did you hear the young lady tell you that we were closed?

Man:  We did.  But we still want you to serve us anyways.

(short pause)

Me:  Maybe you have trouble understanding English…WE!  ARE!!  CLOSED!!!

(long pause)

Woman:  You can’t talk to us like that.  We spoke to the manager who said it was okay.

Me:  You didn’t speak to no manager.  The manager leaves at 9:00pm and its 10:45pm so I don’t know who it is that you spoke to.  If you want service that badly, go find this so-called manager and have him slice your order!  We are closed and that’s that!

Man:  This is unacceptable.  We go to [store name] at this time and we get serviced there.

Me:  Nice try.  But I shop there too and their deli dept. closes an hour earlier than us.  For the last time, WE ARE CLOSED!!

(couple angrily leaves cussing beneath their breath)

Jess:  Umm…we’re not allowed to talk to people like that.

Me:  Two things.  One, its my last day so I really don’t care.  And two, that couple shows up once a month trying to pull this stunt all the time.  If you get them again, feel free to do what I did to them.

Is There A Prescription For Stupidity?

, , , | Healthy Right | October 29, 2018

(I’m a pharmacy tech at a chain pharmacy. I’m working the drive-thru. A truck pulls up blaring loud metal music, and the driver is smoking. He does not turn down the music like most people do when at the window, and I’m having a hard time hearing him.)

Customer: “I’m trying to get one prescription. I need the [Brand Antibiotic], but NOT the–” *indecipherable due to the music*

Me: “I’m sorry, which one do you want?”

Customer: *a little louder* “The [Brand Antibiotic].”

(I take down his information into the computer. I have to re-ask several times because of the music, which he still hasn’t turned down. He’s also still smoking, and flicking ash out of the window, ON MY SIDE.)

Me: “There’s only one prescription here.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: *louder* There’s only one prescription.”

Customer: “Is it the [Brand Antibiotic]?”

Me: *still loud* “I will check with the pharmacist.”

(I grab the script, which is NOT an antibiotic. I’ve shut the window to keep the smoke from getting in; the music is loud enough to be heard on the other end of the pharmacy. The pharmacist confirms this is not an antibiotic, but is a specially requested one he’d been calling to transfer over from a different pharmacy.)

Me: “Sir, this is the only one we have.”

(I show him the prescription, so he can see what it is.)

Customer: “Ok, I’ll take it.”

(I finish up the transaction; he pays and drives away. About ten minutes later, he’s back in my lane, blaring the same loud music.)

Customer: “This isn’t the one I requested. I specifically told you NOT to give me this prescription. Where’s the one that the doctor transferred over?”

Me: “This is the only one that was called in.”

Customer: “I’m not taking this prescription anymore. Why was this called in? I want to speak to the manager.”

(The manager is busy. He’s been listening to the customer and is fed up with him. I use this time to double check his profile. There’s still no record of an antibiotic being called in before, during, or after the transaction.)

Me: “Sir, nothing else has been called in.”

Customer: “I don’t want this one. I told you I didn’t want this one.”

(I apologize at least twice, and return his medication, and he drives away, with my ears ringing.)

Manager: “So what happened with [Customer]?”

(I explained the ordeal, and he was obviously annoyed at the customer’s behavior. Less than a half hour later, we received a call from an associate of the customer. The pharmacist, who had had enough of the guy, took the call personally and explained what happened. Still not sure if the guy has gotten the antibiotic yet…)

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