In the late 1970s, I worked in a copy center. Each week on Thursday, the schedule for the following week would be posted. A friend of mine worked the overnight shift during the week, so he’d give me my schedule each week when I saw him.

I only worked part-time, on Mondays and Tuesdays. I started working in September and worked sixteen hours each week, planning to go full-time in January; they needed more full-time workers. Everything went fine for the first two months.

The last week in October, my friend told me that I was not listed on the schedule for the following week. On Friday morning, I called my manager and told him.

Manager: “Don’t worry. Whoever made the schedule must’ve just forgotten to add you.”

The following week, the same thing happened; I was not listed on the schedule. Again, I spoke to the manager.

Manager: *A little upset* “I’ll speak to the idiot who makes the schedule and tell him to be sure to add you on the next one.”

The next week, guess what? I was still not on the schedule. However, this time, I was told a different story.

Me: “[Manager], I’m not on the schedule again.”

Manager: “Yeah, I found out that the company’s revenues are way down so they had to cut back on staff and hours. The manager of the main store was demoted to a regular employee, and they laid off five other people, as well. My advice is to look for another job elsewhere. I have no idea how long this is going to go on for.”

Me: “So, you’re telling me that I was laid-off three weeks ago, and the company is only getting around to telling me now?”

Manager: “Ah, yeah, I guess so. I’m really sorry. They didn’t tell me any of this until just this morning. Honestly, I’m looking around for a job myself. I really don’t like what’s going on here. They’re not being upfront with anyone. I wish there was more I could do for you, but there’s just nothing I can do.”

Me: “Well, okay, bye.”

And that, folks, is how I got laid off from a job and wasn’t told I was laid off until three weeks after the fact.

Customer: “Excuse me. Do you make copies of keys?”

Me: “Yes, we do. Follow me.”

We go to the key machine.

Customer: “Do you make copies of [Car Make And Model]s?”

Me: “Yup!”

We stand there, staring at each other for a few moments.

Customer: “Well?”

Me: “Um… do you have the original key?”

Customer: “No, it’s stuck in the car. It broke in half. I need a copy of the key, though.”

Me: *Pauses* “I’ll need the original key in order to make a copy.”

Customer: “You said you make copies of [Car Model]s!”

Me: “Yes, but not all keys are the same for every [Car Model]. Otherwise, anyone who has a key to that type of car could steal it.”

Customer: “So you lied to me?!”

I didn’t say anything; I just stared at them silently until the customer got nervous and left.

I work in a copy shop. Most of our income comes from large orders of flyers, booklets, posters, and textile prints, but we also serve customers who just need one or two copies. Our prices scale down with the number of copies printed, so anything less than ten pages costs € 0,50 per page in grayscale and more than double that amount in color. We often get people who complain about our prices, claim that they can get it much cheaper elsewhere — though they always return to our store, curiously enough — or worst of all, try to haggle. But every once in a while, I have an encounter that goes something like this.

Me: “Will that be all?”

Customer: “Yes, thank you. How much do I owe you?”

Me: “Your total will be € 8,40.”

Customer: *Shocked* “I’m sorry, how much?”

I am mentally preparing myself for the coming hissy fit.

Me: “It’s € 8,40.”

Customer: “Really? That cheap?”

Me: “You know, it’s funny; most people complain that it’s way too expensive.”

Customer: “Nonsense. Your time is valuable. You shouldn’t be demanding so little for it.”

Related:
Cheapskating Around The Issue

I work at a copy shop in a small shopping center in Austria. We’re located right next to the toilets. The disabled toilet is always locked, as it has a standardized lock and most disabled people have a key that unlocks any such bathroom door.

Occasionally, people come into our shop to ask if we can unlock the door for them; most of them are surprised to hear that there are standardized locks. In these cases, we usually call the management of the shopping center to send someone down to unlock the toilets.

I’m near the entrance, talking to a coworker, when a man enters and asks, in English, whether we could unlock the disabled toilet for him. I talk to him, as my English is better than my coworker’s, and explain the key situation.

Me: “If you need to use the toilet, we can call someone down to unlock it for you.”

I turn to my coworker and speak in German.

Me: “Could you call upstairs, please, and ask if they can open the disabled toilet?”

My coworker calls house management.

Customer: “No, that’s all right. I don’t want to cause you any inconvenience.”

Me: “It’s really no inconvenience at all.”

Coworker: *In German* “They’re sending someone down.”

Me: “They’re already on their way. The door will be open in a bit.”

Customer: “Oh, thank you. I’ll wait outside, then.”

The man goes outside to wait in front of the toilet. My coworker turns to me.

Coworker: “He doesn’t really look like he’s got a disability.”

Me: “Yeah, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Maybe he’s got something that’s not obvious; I don’t know. It’s not really any of my business.”

Coworker: “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

After a bit, the janitor shows up. He speaks to the man for a bit before shaking his head. The man leaves, still as cheerful as he was when he came in, and waves to me as he passes by. After that, the janitor comes into our shop.

Me: “What was that about?”

Janitor: “Apparently, he didn’t need to go to the toilet. He asked if he could take a shower in the disabled bathroom.”

I was left slightly speechless. I mean first of all, what disabled toilet includes a shower, and second of all, why would he think to take a shower in the disabled toilet of a small shopping center?

Customer: “I have a FedEx package here to pick up.”

I check her ID, process the package pickup, and give it to her.

Customer: “Can I check to make sure everything’s here?”

Me: “Um, sure.”

I’m not sure what I would be able to do if it wasn’t.

Customer: “Yeah, not everything is in here.”

Me: “That’s frustrating. Maybe your order is being sent in two different shipments?”

Customer: “No, I think there’s a box missing.”

Me: “Well, the box here says one of one, so there’s no other box that would have come in today. If you’re worried about it, you should call the company you placed the order with.”

Customer: “Are you sure there aren’t any other boxes?”

Me: “I’m sure. The FedEx driver only gave us the one package today.”

The customer points to our outgoing area.

Customer: “What’s that down there?”

Me: “That’s a package that a customer dropped off.”

Customer: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure.”

Customer: “My order was $500 and this is not $500 worth of stuff.”

Me: “I’m sorry, that sucks. But we’re just the pickup place. You will have to contact the company you placed the order with and tell them you’re missing parts of your order.”

Customer: “This is so stupid! They’re going to send me the rest of the stuff and I’m going away on vacation so I won’t be here to get it!”

She leaves the store in a huff.

Manager: “Did she seriously want you to do something about her missing things from her online order? From a company that isn’t us?”

Related:
Instead Of FedEx You’re Fed Up