Don’t Say The Line If You Can’t Do The Time

, , , , , | Friendly | September 19, 2017

Me: *answering a call from an unfamiliar number* “Hello?”

Caller: *adolescent male voice* “…I’m gonna cut off your balls and shove them down your throat.” *click*

Me: “Hmm. Okay.” *calls the police, provides the number, fills out a report*

(Several days go by:)

Friend: “I heard that you called the police on my little brother?”

Me: “Oh! Is THAT who that was? Are you aware of what he said?”

Friend: “He admitted it wasn’t good, but he didn’t say what. You scared the living crap out of him; he thought he was going to jail.”

Me: “Good.”

Take The Money And Run

, , , | Right | September 15, 2017

(Overnight, the shop is closed, and you can fill up by paying card or cash at the automatic pump. An angry customer comes into the gas station.)

Cashier: “Good morning, sir.”

Customer: “You f****** thieves! Last night I was here and that g**-d*** machine stole my 20 euros!”

Cashier: “Do you have the receipt from the pump?”

Customer: “No, I was in a hurry; I couldn’t wait for the f****** receipt!”

Cashier: “Let me get the manager.”

Manager: “Good morning, sir. The cashier explained to me that you paid 20 euros without filling up and that you have no receipt. Normally, it would be a problem, but I can check on the system if there is a difference between the amount paid and the gas sold, and very likely I’ll find the amount you paid. Unfortunately, I have to wait until this evening, so if you could wait until tomorrow, I’ll have your money ready first thing in the morning.”

Customer: “F*** OFF! GOT NO TIME FOR YOUR LAME EXCUSES! I WANT MY MONEY NOW!”

Manager: “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

Customer: “THAT’S IT! I’M CALLING THE COPS!”

(Once the police came, it turned out that the angry customer was a foreigner with an expired visa, so he was promptly handcuffed and placed in the back of the police cruiser. The kicker? That same evening, the 20 euros he claimed he paid without filling up turned out… if only he was a little patient, he could have walked off with his money.)

Wanted An Extra-Happy Meal

, , , , , | Right | September 13, 2017

(I work the front counter on one of the tills, with my boss fixing the ice cream machine standing a foot behind me, when a customer walks up.)

Me: “Welcome to [Store]. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “A cheeseburger and fries.”

Me: “That will be [price].”

(The customer hands over the money and then says in the same volume and tone of voice used to order:)

Customer: “Want to buy some drugs?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

(The customer then found a seat in the middle of the lobby… and spread out his wares in little pill bottles. Everyone in the store was staring at this guy, as my manager, also plainly visible to everyone in the store, was on the phone with the cops and could not stop snickering under her breath. The rest of the staff and customers waiting in line now proceeded to find comfortable spots to watch as this oblivious idiot got arrested.)

Social Notworking

, , , , , | Working | September 12, 2017

(One of my coworkers was recently let go for defamatory public statements she made about our company on her very public social media account. We have a social media policy in which we agree not to discuss our workplace or coworkers in a negative way via social media. To take this further, after my coworker is fired, our supervisors come around and require us to add them on social media, so they can “monitor” for breaches of policy. I am uncomfortable with this, as I am a VERY private person and only have a social media account in order for out-of-state relatives to be able to keep up with my kids, as both of my parents and all my siblings live in different states.)

Boss: “I need you to review the social media policy again, and re-sign that you agree to the terms. You will also need to add me on [Popular Social Media Site].”

Me: “I completely agree with the social media policy, and I never discuss my work or my coworkers on social media. However, I am not comfortable with adding you to my social media. It has photos and posts about my children, and I have not worked here or known you long enough to give you access to my private life.”

Boss: “If you don’t add me, then we will consider it an act of insubordination, and you will be subject to further action, up to and including termination.”

Me: “You are free to do whatever you feel is necessary; however, I would like to point out that should you terminate my employment you would be opening [Company] up to a lawsuit.”

Boss: “It is perfectly legal for us to monitor our employees’ social media accounts and take action based on posts that may negatively affect our business!”

Me: “It is legal for you to monitor your employees’ public social media posts. It’s even legal to monitor our company computers and read messages and posts that may have been made from them, as that’s considered company property, and we have no reasonable expectation of privacy. However, it is not legal in this state to force your employees to give up their own right to privacy as a condition of employment. Given that we have two lawyers on staff, I’m very surprised that this was considered a legal and ethical idea. I’m not adding you to [Social Media].”

Boss: *goes white* “…you know, [My Name], I believe that you aren’t posting anything bad about [Company]. I think signing this is enough. You don’t have to add me.”

(It turns out, it was my supervisors idea and it was never vetted by the legal team! As soon as they heard about it, he was written up, and no one had to add their respective bosses!)

Wrestling With This Sale

, , , , , , , | Right | September 12, 2017

(I am a 17-year-old student, working part-time in a major supermarket chain as a checkout operator. Because of UK law, persons under the age of 18 must have approval from someone over 18 before they can sell alcohol, and my store requires that person to physically come to the checkout and type in their ID and password to authorize the sale. In this case, the customer is clearly old enough, ripped, and covered in tattoos.)

Me: “I’m really sorry to keep you waiting, but I’m afraid I have to get approval from someone over 18 before I can sell you this.”

Customer: “I’m over 18. Consider it approved.”

Me: “I’m afraid that it has to come from someone that works here, but I’ll have my supervisor over here just as soon as I can.”

Customer: *getting increasingly irritated* “Just put it through. They don’t have to know about it.”

Me: “I can’t sell alcohol without a code. My machine completely locks up as soon as it picks up alcohol, and I need someone over 18 to physically come here and override the lock-out. I promise you, my supervisor will just be a moment.”

Customer: “That’s a dumb-a** policy. Just type in their code or something.”

Me: “I’m afraid that’s actually the law. Section 153 of the Licensing Act of 2003 states that a responsible person is committing an offence if he or she allows a person under the age of 18 to perform the sale or supply of alcohol, unless the sale is approved by that or another responsible person. I don’t know my supervisor’s code, and if I was able to just sell alcohol, then the store could easily lose their licence, and both myself and all the managers could be fined.”

(At this point the customer loses it. It’s been less than two minutes since this entire exchange began, but he leaps at me over my checkout, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and pulling me towards him.)

Customer: *shouting* “Listen to me, you f****** b****. I didn’t come here looking for a f****** lecture. Do you know who I am?”

(He shakes me a bit and moves right in my face, our noses about a centimetre from touching. A lot of people are watching, but none step in. I’m actually a black belt in three different martial arts, and more than capable of defending myself, but given that I am relatively new to the job and can see my supervisor on his way, I decide not to lash out.)

Customer: *as loud as he can* “I’m the f****** national wrestling champion. I’ve got hundreds of trophies, dozens of medals. What the f*** have you got you whiny c***?

(My supervisor arrives, taps the guy on his shoulder, and nuts him straight in the face. He drops to the floor clutching a bleeding, and probably broken, nose. My supervisor flips him onto his front and pulls both his hands up behind his back, zip tying his hands together, and pulling his phone off his belt.)

Supervisor: “Hey, when you’ve got a minute, can you get the police down here? No rush.”

(I love my supervisor.)

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