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 turned out, it was my supervisor’s 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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It Doesn’t Take Ein-Stein To Figure Out Why

, , , | Right | September 12, 2017

(Most of the bars at German beer fests actually rent their beer mugs, simply because it’s cheaper to rent 1000 steins for three days than to rent storage for 1000 steins for the whole year… at least as long as fewer than five to ten percent of them are broken or stolen at the beer fest. I’m a cashier at such a bar.)

Customer: “How much does a beer mug cost?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we rent them, so I cannot sell them to you.”

Customer: “So, they are not yours?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Customer: “Cool. That means that they are free!”

Me: “Wait, what!? No, that means—”

Customer: *interrupting* “—you already said they’re not yours. I’m taking it.”

(Before I could react, the customer vanished into the crowd. This incident, alongside the fact that we lost almost 200 of the mugs that year, was the reason we’ve been charging a deposit for the mugs since the following year. Many customers accused us of trying to steal money that way from them – they did not see the irony – but, what do you know, we only lost 16 steins this year. I wonder why.)

ISIS = Insipid Sucrose Insurgent Sect

, , , , | Right | September 11, 2017

(I am one of many baristas working for a major name coffee brand that’s known throughout the world. Being located in the state where said brand was founded, we expect to see a lot of interesting things when folk come for their much needed java. That said, I don’t think we expected for two police officers to come in one day and ask for my manager to come to the counter. I’m manning the register next to him as the following takes place.)

Officer #1: “Yeah, um… okay, we’re still not sure how to take this, but we got a 911 call from someone at this location stating that the store was a terrorist cell working to murder its patrons.”

Manager: “Really?… wow… that’s… I don’t know what to say about that. I mean, you know us [Officer #1]. You come by pretty regularly on your patrol to get coffee from us.”

Officer #1: “I know; that’s why I’m letting you know, just in case this gets escalated further. We’re pretty sure it’s a prank but… well… I mean, it’s safe to say that this was the last thing we expected dispatch to ask us to check out.”

Officer #2: “Don’t worry, we’ll report that we’ve checked you out and all seems as it should be.”

(The two officers make to leave.)

Random Customer: “Wait! Where are you going?”

(We all turn to see a tiny old lady [who I served a little while ago] staring at us with a mix of fear and anger.)

Officer #1: “Uh, I’m sorry, ma’am, can we help you with something?”

Lady: “I called you in here to stop these d*** terrorists from killing these poor, God-fearing Americans! Aren’t you going to do something?!”

Officer #1: “I’m sorry, ma’am, are you saying you’re the one who placed the call to 911?”

(The lady storms up and grabs the container of artificial sweetener on our condiments bar.)

Lady: “Look at this! Do you know what’s in these? Aspartame! Sucralose! Neotame! Chemical death in every packet! These people are terrorists, aiming to kill everyone who comes in here!”

(There is a pause as the sudden screaming causes the other customers to stop talking and see what’s going on. The lady starts pointing at random people.)

Lady: “You! You! YOU! You all put this in your coffee! You’ve let these heathens poison you! Every single one of these is death in a packet! You’re all going to die before the day is gone! This isn’t a coffee shop! It’s a d*** morgue!”

Officer #1: “Okay… well… now that we better understand what’s going on, perhaps you’d like to accompany us to our squad car, ma’am? We can put you in touch with the people who can help you further.”

Lady: “Yes! Get me the FBI! Get me the NSA! Every single one of these d*** coffee bars has these! Poisoning and killing Americans everywhere! They’re turning our country into a giant graveyard!”

Officer #1: “Yes, well, again, can you please accompany us outside?”

(The lady clings to our container of sweeteners.)

Lady: “I need this! Evidence of terrorism! Murder!”

(The officers look to us.)

Manager: “Uh… sure. Go ahead.”

Lady: “Yeah, I know who you are! You and your whole terrorist sect are finished! This will not go unanswered! All these packets! How many have you killed already?!”

(The officers finally get the lady out of the shop [with our sweeteners] and into the squad car. Officer #1 comes back in.)

Officer #1: “Okay, I am so sorry about that. We had no idea that was a serious call. We’ll make sure she doesn’t come back here again.”

Manager: “That’s fine just… wow…”

Me: “Yeah… well… it gets better.”

Officer #1: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I served her. She put four of those packets of death in her coffee!”

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Your Annoyance Level Is Up To The High Teens

, , , , , , , | Right | September 10, 2017

(I work the overnight shift alone from 10 pm to 6 am. I usually get the local cops in at the beginning of my shift, since they are starting their shift as well, and they also come by a few times a night, just to check in and say hi. Around 3 am one Sunday morning, another regular, who is shy and has a social disability, comes in to get his coffee and wait for his ride. As I’m finishing with him. two teenage boys come in.)

Me: *to regular* “Thanks for shopping at [Gas Station] and I’ll see you tomorrow.” *to teenagers* “Can I help you two with anything?”

Teenager #1: “Yeah, I’d like some cigarettes. [Brand].”

Me: “Certainly. I’ll just need to see some ID.”

Teenager #1: “I left it at the house. Can you let it slide this once? Besides, I only live right down the street.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell to anyone that looks under 30 without an ID. Besides, if you live right down the street, then it should be no problem to get your ID.”

Teenager #1: “C’mon, man, just let it slide this once. I can tell you my birthday. It’s [date].”

Me: “Well, sir, if that is your birthday, then you are only 16. I can’t sell the cigarettes to you, but feel free to get anything else.”

Teenager #2: “Here, I’ll get them then. I just turned 18 and I have my ID.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I can’t sell them to you, since I know you are buying them for your friend, who I know is underage.”

Teenager #2: “But I’m 18!”

Teenager #1: “Don’t be a d***. Nobody will notice at this time of night.”

Me: “Sorry, but it’s not worth my job.”

(The two teenagers leave, and I see them go up to my regular, who is still waiting in the parking lot, and talk to him for a minute. My regular walks back in.)

Regular: “Can I get a pack of [Cigarette Brand Teenager Asked For]?”

Me: “I actually can’t. I know you don’t smoke, and I know those boys just asked you to get them cigarettes. Tell them I’m not selling them cigarettes, and they can’t get anyone else to buy them for them.”

(My regular leaves and talks to the teens. He gets picked up around five minutes later, but the teens are still loitering. I ignore them, as there isn’t anyone else in the store or parking lot, and start to mop while the store is slow. About 20 minutes later, the teens come in and get some nachos, making a mess in the process. As they come to check out, I notice the reek of alcohol.)

Teenager #2: “I’d like these nachos.”

Me: “Certainly, sir. Can I get you anything else?”

Teenager #2: “Yeah, I’d like a pack of [Same Cigarette Brand].”

Me: “I told you 20 minutes ago that I wouldn’t sell you cigarettes. Now, you need to pay for the nachos and leave.”

(They end up grumbling, but pay for their food and leave. However, they don’t leave the parking lot, and instead hang around eating their food. I ignore them again and start making coffee. About ten minutes later, one of my older regulars shows up. He stops to talk to the boys on the way in, and then comes into the store.)

Me: “Hey, [Older Regular].”

(All the coffee is fresh, and once I finish with the trash, I can take a break and come outside and chat.)

Older Regular: “You know those boys are asking for people to buy them cigarettes, don’t you? I told them I wouldn’t, and that you knew I didn’t smoke anyway.”

Me: “Okay, well, I’ve had about enough of this.” *I go outside and talk to the teenagers.* “You guys need to leave now. You can’t loiter here, and you can’t keep harassing my customers to illegally buy you tobacco.”

Teenager #1: “Well, why don’t you make us? We ain’t doing nothing!”

Teenager #2: “Yeah, and this wouldn’t have happened if you’d been f***ing cool about it.”

(Fed up with this, I call dispatch, and explain to them about the two drunk teens. Two minutes later, I have three cop cars pull in and corner these two kids. One tries to run and is caught almost instantly. My regular and I go outside to watch.)

Cop: *also a regular* “Hey, [My Name]. These two the only ones who were bothering you?”

Me: “Yeah. So, what are you going to do to them?”

Cop: “We’ll take them down to the station and throw them in the drunk tank. We’ll call their parents once they sober up. Usually putting the fear of God in them is enough. Call us if they ever show up on your shift again!”

(My regular and I walked away laughing. It certainly made the rest of my shift more enjoyable, and the teens had a great story to tell at school Monday!)

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