Need To Check And Save That Dog!

, , , , , | Right | February 12, 2019

(After a busy day at work, I’m excited that I’m at my last hour. I have to start closing half an hour before I leave. An elderly woman is sitting in the lobby, and when asked, she tells me she wants to open a safe deposit box, as well as transfer money from her checking to her savings. This sounds so simple, I figure I have more than enough time, and ask her to step into the office. She tells me she’d like to speed things up because she has her dog in the car. It’s April in Houston; although not as hot as summer, it is still pretty bad inside of a car. I say that’s fine, but I ask if the dog has the windows down. She says yes, so on we go.)

Customer: *hands over $5,000 check* “I need $2,000 for me, and the rest in my savings.”

(I realize she wants me to cash the check, give her $2,000 cash, and put the rest in her account, so I clarify.)

Customer: “No. I want $2,000 for me and the rest in my account.”

Me: “Okay, so, you want me to cash the check, give you $2,000 and deposit the rest into your account?”

Customer: “No, I want the rest in checking.”

Me: “All right, let’s get this straight. You want me to cash the check. Deposit $2,000 in your savings account, and put the rest in your checking account?”

Customer: “I want $2,000 for my savings box. The rest in my checking.”

(Figuring out that she means her safe deposit box, I tell her that she should cash the check, deposit what she needs into her checking and turn the $2,000 into a cashier’s check, since it’s safer. What she does with the check is her business. She says yes, so I tell her it will take me a few minutes while I go to the teller line and do that for her. I come out after about ten minutes since it is a busy day. The customer is standing by the door. I tell her I have the check and I’m ready to get started on opening the safe deposit box account for her.)

Customer: *almost screaming* “I said I wanted $2,000 in my checking and the rest in my savings!”

(I may have misheard her or just got confused with the whole ordeal from earlier, so I apologize and let her know I’ll fix it and I’ll be right back. She says she will be outside with her dog. I fix the error within two minutes and set to open her safe deposit box account. I don’t call her in so she won’t leave her dog in the heat, and I don’t need her at this step, anyway, since it’s just a matter of printing the papers and getting the keys. I’m hitting the print button when the woman walks directly to the assistant manager and asks to speak to the manager. The assistant manager asks how she can help her.)

Customer: “This woman doesn’t know what she’s doing. She could’ve just told me. My dog is sitting outside, and she made an error.”

(The manager looks at me and I step out of the office to let the woman know that the error is fixed and I’m at the point where I just need her to sign. Finally, the customer agrees to go inside so she can sign her paperwork.)

Customer: “I can’t believe you didn’t know what you were doing. You should’ve just told me.”

Me: “I’m sorry; it was a misunderstanding.”

Customer: “Well, you should’ve just told me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

(About twenty minutes have gone by. I’m ready to close down and I don’t like being told I don’t know what I’m doing when she clearly had her stake in it.)

Me: “I made an error. I apologize. It means I’m human.”

Customer: “Well, you shouldn’t have.”

Me: “If I didn’t make errors, I wouldn’t be working here. I would be working somewhere else, making a lot more money.”

(The customer hmphs and signs. She walks out of the office after I explain the details and hand over the keys.)

Me: “Do you need me to let you into your box?”

Customer: “No, I have my dog in the car.” *walks out*

(I notice she left the check behind.)

Me: *rushing to the door* “Ma’am, you forgot your check.”

Customer: “No. I need you to put it in my savings.”

(Now I’m confused, but I assume she means her safe deposit box since she has signed the paperwork and taken the keys.)

Me: “I can’t put it in your safe deposit box; I’m not allowed to know what’s in it and I can’t go in there for you.”

Customer: “The other bank took my box down for me and helped me.”

Me: “I can let you in and help you carry the box, but I can’t go in there for you since you have the keys. We do not hold a set of keys here, and we are also not allowed to know what’s in a box.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous; I have my car switched on for the dog.”

Me: “My coworker here will keep an eye on your car; I’ll let you into the room and you can put the check in.”

(Grudgingly, she agreed. At this point, the manager was next to me and we both went into the vault room with the customer. To my disgrace, the box I originally wanted to assign to her didn’t work, so the one I picked in a rush was at the very top, needing a step ladder. I climbed up the ladder, opened the box, had her and the manager verify the check was being put in, since she insisted I didn’t want her accusing me of a missing check later, and closed the box. By the time this was over, it was past my time to leave, I had a blaring headache, and the poor dog had sat in the car for about an hour.)

Give This Customer A Wide Berth

, , , , , | Right | February 11, 2019

(On a slow Tuesday morning in February, an exceptionally well-dressed and sophisticated-looking, middle-aged woman in a pants suit scurries into the deserted store and up to me standing at the counter. She’s obviously in a hurry and looks a bit frazzled.)

Woman: “I need a pair of men’s slippers, size ten, triple E!”

(Since it’s February, we have maybe half a dozen pairs of men’s slippers left in the store, and I know that only one has a chance of fitting the bill. I bring the box out of the stockroom to show her.)

Me: “This is our last size ten, and it runs very wide.”

Woman: “Is it a size ten?”

Me: “Yes.”

Woman: “Are they triple E?”

Me: “Technically, the width is D, but they fit unusually wide. You could bring them back if they don’t fit.”

(Without a word, she snatches one of the slippers from the box, spreads her legs wide, sticks the slipper between her thighs, and holds it there with her hands on her hips for several seconds. Then she reaches down, grabs the slipper, and slaps it back into the box.)

Woman: “Not wide enough!”

(She raced out of the store.)

Made With Barley, Hops, And Gender Stereotypes

, , , , , , | Right | February 11, 2019

(I am volunteering behind the bar at a beer festival, serving over 100 beers of many different styles. A woman approaches to order.)

Woman: “I’m looking for a girly beer. Something girls will like.”

Me: “What kind of beer do you normally drink? Light, dark, or something in the middle?”

Woman: “Something girly!”

Me: “None of our beer is sexist, madam, but let me see what I can find you.”

(She took it in good humour, and I recommended a light golden ale, which she enjoyed.)

Slipping Past All Logic And Reason

, , , , | Right | February 7, 2019

(I work in an ice rink, helping kids learn how to skate and doing birthday parties. Our rink is notorious for not being cold enough and the quality of ice not very good, which leads to it being quite wet and melted on busy days. On this particular busy day, I am helping out a child along the barrier when two ladies struggling along the barrier just behind me call out to me.)

Woman #1: “Excuse me. Do you work here?”

Me: “Uh, yeah, I do. What can I help you with?”

Woman #2: “Can you make the ice less slippery?”

(I stand there dumbfounded for a few seconds before replying, not quite sure if they are being serious or not.)

Me: “Well, the ice is a little melted today, but at the end of the day ice is ice. There’s not much I can do to make it less slippery.”

Woman #1: “Well, they should figure out a way to make it less slippery!”

(After that, I just turned back to the kid I was helping, trying to contain my laughter.)

Her Demands For Free Stuff Are Half-Baked

, , , , | Right | February 7, 2019

(I’m fairly new to my job and I have a lady come through the drive-thru one night at around eight. Our oven is broken, so we can’t make any baked potatoes without burning them into oblivion.)

Customer: “Hi. I’d like a chili cheese baked potato, please.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t have any baked potatoes tonight; our oven is broken. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Can I get you something else?”

Customer: “No, I just want a baked potato. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t have them right now. Our oven is malfunctioning.”

Customer: *holding up the other people in the drive-thru line* “Isn’t there another way you can make one?”

Me: “I don’t believe so. I’m sorry. Is there anything else you would like tonight?”

Customer: “You know what? Let me speak to the manager.”

(I call my manager over and he asks her to pull up to the second window. She does so, and he calmly explains to her, yet again, that we’re out of baked potatoes.)

Customer: *yelling* “You know what? Fine! But I want a coupon for a free baked potato!”

Manager: “Ma’am, we can’t do that. If we gave you a coupon, we would have to give every other person ordering here a coupon and we can’t do that. Besides, we don’t have any coupons for a free baked potato.”

Customer: “You don’t have to give anyone else one, just me! I’ve been waiting all day!”

Manager: “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

(The lady was yelling profanities, and my manager finally calmed her down enough to tell her to leave. She continued screaming, but eventually drove away. As I looked back to the rest of the crew, they were all laughing their heads off and mocking her. Not a fun way to start a job.)

Page 3/21412345...Last