Everything He Says Is True

, , , | Friendly | October 5, 2017

(I work at an upscale garden show and vendors’ market once a year, which is sponsored by an aristocratic family and takes place on the grounds of their manor. On one evening, the head of the house also holds a special VIP event, to which he invites politicians, CEOs, and other aristocrats. They receive a special invitation, which also counts as their ticket to the garden show before the event. Unfortunately, a lot of the VIPs forget their tickets and are the stereotypically arrogant, “Don’t you know who I am?! I don’t NEED a ticket!” kind of people. So far, we’ve had four small altercations with VIPs, and I fear another one coming when I see a quite posh-looking man approach my table from the side.)

Posh Man: “Hello! I have a bit of a problem. My wife and I forgot our invitations to the VIP event. We’re terribly sorry. Is there any way to let us in, or do we have to drive back home?”

Me: *somewhat taken back by his friendly politeness* “Oh, that should be no problem! All I need is your ID or anything else that shows your name, and I can ask the organisers to check the invite list.”

(The wife suddenly begins to giggle while the man is searching for his ID.)

Wife: “You’re not going to believe us, I think.”

Posh Man: “Oh, yes.” *smiling sheepishly* “You probably won’t. We get it a lot.”

(Confused, I take his ID – and see that his title is Baron von Munchausen. I can’t help but laugh. “The Baron von Munchhausen” is a fairly well-known old collection of stories about said Baron, who makes up grand tales and stories of impossible feats about himself, such as riding on a cannon ball, riding a horse that was cut in half, etc.)

Me: *joking* “Oh, lord! Are you sure you got an invite?”

Posh Man: *winks* “I assure you it is not a lie!”

Me: “To be honest, I’d be tempted to let you in even if it was, just for the story!”

(After a quick chat with the organisers, they confirmed that he and his wife were invited, so I let them in. He winked at his wife, saying, “It worked!” loud enough for me to laugh again. He later left a tiny box of chocolate from one of the vendors in the office for “the ticket girl with good humour.” One of the nicest VIP encounters I’ve had in the five years I worked that job.)

Lacking A Few Dollars Of Kindness

| St. Louis, MO, USA | Right | July 15, 2017

(I work concessions at an arena that is often used for conventions. It is an annual event by some religious spokesperson, so the attendees are mostly stuck-up old church ladies. One such customer comes up to the stand to ask for change.)

Server: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t make change from the registers. The drawer only opens when we put in a sale. We can’t open it ourselves.”

Customer: *huffy* “Well, all right. Give me a cup of coffee, then.”

(The server gets her coffee, puts in the sale, and gives her three $5 bills and a $1 bill as change. Then, naturally, he closes the drawer.)

Server: “Here you go, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

Customer: “Excuse me! This $5 bill has INK smudged on it! I want a different bill!”

Server: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

Customer: “I don’t want change. I just want a different bill!”

(At this point, the server realizes he’s getting nowhere with this lady and goes to get me, who is the manager. As such, I keep small rolls of bills in my apron pockets to make change for the servers if necessary.)

Me: “What can I help you with, ma’am?”

Customer: “This bill has ink on it! I want a different bill.”

Me: “Sure, I can do that. Here, I’ll trade you for this nice, brand new $5 bill.”

Customer: *sarcastically* “Thank you! All I wanted was some change!”

(You’d think that would be the end of it, but no. A few moments later…)

Customer: “EXCUSE me!”

Server: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “This coffee is terrible. I don’t want it anymore. Give me my money back!”

Server: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Let me go get the manager again to give you your refund.”

(He goes and explains the situation to my mother, who is the only one in the stand with a key to open the register for refunds.)

Server: *remembering that she originally came up to ask for change* “Would you like your refund back in dollar bills, or quarters, or…?”

Customer: “I want my money back!”

Server: “Yes, but since you asked for change earlier, I thought I’d offer to give you coins if that’s what you needed.”

Me: “We can give you your $4 back in dollars, or quarters, or whatever you need. It doesn’t make any difference to us.”

Customer: “No, just takes these back and give me my $20.” *pulls out the three fives and one dollar from her original transaction*

Me: “You want a $20 bill back?”

Customer: “Yes, give me my $20 back!”

(This is my least favorite event, even though the venue hosts monster truck rallies, boat shows, and boy band concerts. The previous year, the attendees were so obnoxious that the speaker actually lectured them on the need to tip and be polite to the workers. Apparently not all of them took it to heart.)  

Unfiltered Story #89872

, , , | Unfiltered | June 17, 2017

(I’m wandering through a convention dressed as a Mooby’s employee from the Kevin Smith movies. I’m also black.)

Stranger: Nice costume.

Me: Oh, thanks.

Stranger: You should have had “P**** M***** For Life” on the back.

(Note: he’s referring to Clerks II when one of the characters, Randall, wore that on the back of his uniform after discovering it was a racial slur in an (failed) attempt to take it back.)

Me: What?

Stranger: You should have had “P**** M***** For Life” on the back of your uniform like in Clerks II.

Me: I know what you’re talking about, but why would I do that? I’m not dressing as Randall.

Stranger: Just thought you’d be trying to take it back.


(This wasn’t the only time it happened to me during that convention. I’ve since stopped wearing the uniform.)

Unfiltered Story #89005

, , , | Unfiltered | June 3, 2017

I was attending a convention in Seattle in which the convention staff wore blue shirts with “STAFF” printed on them in large, bold letters. Unknowing of this, I had also chosen to wear a blue shirt, although of a different color.

Throughout the day, I repeatedly had other attendees come up to me and start asking me questions, thinking I was among the staff.

One exchange in particular stood out to me:

Attendee: “Hey, do you know when [name] is doing autographs?”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t know that. If you ask someone from staff, they might be able to tell you though.”

Attendee: “But you’re staff! You should know these things! It’s you’re job!”

Me: “I’m not staff, but if you go down the stairs, cross over to the other building, and look for the Answer Desk room there, they should be able to-”

Attendee: (suddenly realizes) “Oh, I’m sorry! You’re not staff, are you? Sorry to bother you.”

(As a staff member had just come around the corner, I was able to refer the other attendee to them. I hope they got their question answered!)

The Incomplete Picture Of Bad Service

| Hartford, CT, USA | Working | May 4, 2017

(I am browsing through the vendor stalls at a large convention with some friends. As we are looking at posters my friend points out a poster for an anime I love being moved around by one of the sellers. He puts it back in the stack behind the counter so quickly we can’t see the picture clearly.)

Me: “Excuse me; I would like to see the [Anime] poster.”

Vendor #1: “…”

Me: “It’s the one in the stack with the corner sticking out. If you could just pull it out for me—”

Vendor #2: *turns around and rummages through the rolled posters, pulling out and unrolling a copy of the poster a third of the way so I can see the anime’s name, but not the bulk of the picture, then rolling it back up* “That’s ten dollars.”

Me: “I’d like to see the whole picture, please.”

(The second vendor rolls his eyes and puts away the poster, without showing me the rest of it. The first vendor continues to ignore me.)

Me: *to Friend* “If it’s going to be this difficult for them to complete a simple task and treat their customers nicely then they aren’t getting my money.”

(From the little bit of the poster that I did see, the picture was nice enough that I would have bought it, if only the sellers weren’t so rude!)

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