Branded With Kindness

, , , , , , | Hopeless | February 8, 2019

I was dropping off some prescriptions at my local 24-hour pharmacy around ten at night. There were only two employees working at the time: a pharmacist and a pharmacy tech. They were obviously extremely busy. When I was asked when I’d like to pick up my prescriptions, I simply said I’d like them as soon as possible. The tech looked genuinely terrified to inform me that there was at least an hour wait time. Of course, I expected as much, so that was no problem at all. I could tell from her demeanor that other people had not been as understanding. I told her that I was planning on going out to eat, so she could take her time and that I hoped that customers would learn to be more understanding.

When I returned to retrieve my medicine, one of them was ringing up at four times the amount I expected. As I have a heart condition that prevents me from working, I knew there was no way I could afford that. I purchased the other medication and decided that I would just call the hospital and ask if they could send a cheaper alternative prescription to the pharmacy. Upon speaking to the pharmacist, I was told that it would be another thirty minutes before he would even be able to check for an alternative. I decided to sit in the waiting area, as I had nothing else to do at the time and I wasn’t in any particular rush.

At that point, it was clear that the young lady’s shift had ended and she had left for the night. The pharmacist was now working by himself. I waited patiently as I watched this man run around and assemble orders, answer phones, type furiously on the computer, check inventory, and deal with customers in both the drive-thru and at the counter. That poor man didn’t have a breath to himself. Eventually, he looked up and noticed I was still there. He called me to the counter and rang up my medicine at a huge discount — much less than I was expecting to pay in the first place. I thanked him profusely and wished him a better night than the one he appeared to be having. It was only when I reached the car that I realized that he hadn’t had time to find a generic alternative and he had given me the name brand medication. He brought it down from 105 dollars to 17. As someone struggling financially, that meant the world to me.

I made sure to call the manager in the morning and tell them how wonderful their employees were. I will definitely be going back there. It might cost a little more than other pharmacies and it might take a little longer, but the customer service cannot be matched.

Moral of the story: a little patience and kindness go a long way.

Way Past Due For Some Bedside Manners

, , , , , | Healthy | January 12, 2019

(I am pregnant with my firstborn. After a great deal of reading up on the subject and a conversation with my uncle, a prominent obstetrician, we decide to use a certified nurse-midwife and a birthing center. Unfortunately, the due date comes and goes, despite multiple efforts at bringing on labor naturally, including walks, cohosh, and cod-liver oil. Finally, the midwife sets it up for us to go to the nearby hospital for some Pitocin to be applied topically. By this point, I’ve been lying on a table in a cubicle for several hours and am already stressed out because of the overdue baby and because I’ve had to go to the hospital. I am sure they will make me stay, and I don’t want that. Finally, a resident walks in. He pokes around for a bit.)

Resident #1: “How many days past due are you?”

Me: “Nine days.”

Resident #1: “You know, the fetal mortality rate spikes after fourteen days.”

(The resident walks out. Later, a different, female resident comes in. She pokes around for a while. Then:)

Resident #2: “Your cervix is off to the side.”

(The resident walks out. By now, I’m hysterical. Thankfully, the midwife phones right that minute to check on me. I blubber out what the resident said about the cervix.)

Midwife: “She just means that it’s off to the side right now. It will move into position as part of labor.”

(I still think that the first resident’s completely gratuitous information was because he was annoyed that he wouldn’t get to do a delivery. The kicker? My contractions started the minute we were in the parking deck on our way out of there. Our son was born about nine hours later, in the birthing center, with the midwife.)

Unfiltered Story #135137

, , , | Unfiltered | December 30, 2018

(I work at a gas station where customers pay me first when paying with cash. Also, the pumps are arranged such that it’s hard for me to see small cars on the farthest pumps, especially when the other pumps are occupied. This happens while we are busier than I’ve seen in quite a while.)

Customer #1: “Give me 10 on the white Honda out there”
(The customer waves in the general direction of the gas pump, and immediately goes into the restroom before I can ask for clarification. Assuming she will be a while, I continue helping the other customers in line. A minute later, she comes back.)

Customer #1: “Am I all set?”

Me: “Not yet. Which pump were you on?”

Customer #1: “The white Honda, right there. How can you not see it?”

(I look outside, where I see several cars, none of which are white.)

Me: “Are you on the other side of the outside pumps? It might be blocked from my view…”

Customer #1: *getting very angry* ” ITS THE WHITE ONE,RIGHT THERE!!! I want to talk to your manager, you’re just being lazy and don’t want to help me.”

(I started to say my manager wasn’t in, but she wanted none of it. After a minute or so, I decided that I should walk outside to find her car. Sure enough, her car was parked behind a pump where I wasn’t able to see it from the register. I finished the transaction, while she continued to berate me for my bad service. Meanwhile, a line has formed behind her, and the gentleman behind her is obviously annoyed.)

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way mam, here’s your receipt.”

Customer #1: “I just can’t believe that [Store name] would hire such an incompetent…”

Customer #2: “lay off lady. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Why don’t you go home and f*** yourself?”

Customer #1: “WHAT?! Oh no, you don’t speak to me like…”

Customer #2: “I’ll d*** we’ll speak to you how I want. What are you, drunk or something? There’s no need to act the way you are. Go home and leave this poor kid alone.”

(The first customer spluttered, said something under her breath. I didn’t catch most of it, but I heard the word “police”)

Customer #2: “Yeah? I’ll call them on you first, lady. You’ll probably get a DUI.”

(Customer #1 left in a huff, while the other customers applauded. The second customer turned to me.)

Customer #2: *calm as can be* “Thirty on pump seven.”

That Final Demand Takes The Cake

, , , , , | Right | December 24, 2018

(My company caters to a very wealthy clientele. We sell very high-end food items on our website and as such, we partner with businesses across the country who fulfill these orders. It is Christmas Eve, and I receive a call from a lady who breathlessly advises:)

Caller: “I have just witnessed the [Courier] delivery man throwing the box containing my Red Velvet Cake, and now the cake is ruined!”

(Instead of contacting the courier for remedy, she has angrily called us.)

Caller: “Do you know how important this cake is to the party I am throwing tonight?! Do you know how many of Who’s Who in Dallas will be in attendance?”

Me: “I am sorry, no, I do not know the answer to either of those questions. I can offer you a full refund on your purchase price, despite the fact that it is technically not a service failure of our business.”

Caller: “I will accept the refund, but what about my cake?”

Me: “I apologize, as it is now early afternoon on Christmas Eve, and we do not offer same-day delivery on gourmet items.”

Caller: *yelling* “I. WANT. MY. CAKE! I. WANT. MY. CAKE!”

Me: “I would be happy to send you a replacement cake on the 27th of December, but it is now beyond my ability to get a cake sent to you in time for your party tonight.”

Caller: “Oh, no. This is unacceptable. You, young lady, will be coming to my home to bake a cake for my party. Do you have a pen to write down my address?”

(I must admit that, given my pent-up frustration, I deigned to let out a laugh. This was NOT appropriate behavior on my behalf. Inevitably, she demanded to speak to a manager. I jotted down the order number so that I could look later to see how the situation was handled. Apparently, my company caters to the wealthy so much, that the manager called the very bakery that we partnered with in the city she lived in and as it turns out, this bakery was only ten minutes away from her home! I was left scratching my head as to why she would order a cake via a website that doubles the price of such an item, when she could have just as easily sent her “help” to get it in the first place! So, the manager arranged to rush a courier over to the bakery, because even though they did have one Red Velvet Cake left, they would be closing in half an hour. My company not only paid for the courier service, but also at company expense paid for the replacement cake. Remember, I had already refunded her $125 for the cake ruined by the careless or angry delivery dude. I was contacted later that day by my manager and given a bit of a slap on the wrist for my utterance of laughter at her demand that I would be coming to her home to bake a cake. Apparently, however, they had reviewed the recording of the call and said that they certainly understood why spontaneous laughter had erupted. The moral of this story is that there is a major luxury retailer based out of Dallas, Texas that will not only allow you to get away with bad behavior, but will also apparently reward you for it.)

PTO: Plutonium Time Off

, , , , , , | Legal | December 5, 2018

(Part of my job is to be a go-fer for the office and the higher-ups — an errand girl, basically. One day, as I’m leaving to get something from the store, I see a couple of guys talking with three of our Loss Prevention and Facilities guys, all looking confused and somewhat alarmed. I don’t think much of it until I get back and see three cop cars in front of our loading dock investigating a truck. One of the LP guys points me out, and as I get out of my car, a cop comes jogging over.)

Cop: “Ma’am, you need to come with me.”

Me: “Wait, what? Why? What’s going on?”

Cop: “Ma’am, for your safety, you need to come with me.”

(I’m super confused but do what he says and walk over to the loading dock, where I realize one of the officers has a Geiger counter and is running it over everything in the truck.)

Me: “What’s going on?”

Coworker: “You know those guys I was talking to earlier?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Coworker: “Apparently someone from Turkey shipped a package to us to be picked up by those other guys, like we’re FedEx or something.”

Me: “But our building looks nothing like a post office.”

Coworker: “Exactly. And those two guys were from Turkey, too, and flew all the way out here to pick up their package with the intent of taking it back to Turkey. With those bombs being sent to some people lately, we figured better safe than sorry.”

Cop: “Ma’am, I need to you hold out your arms.”

(I do so, and it finally hits me as they’re running the Geiger counter over me.)

Me: “Wait, you think I was exposed to radiation?”

Coworker: “You were in the mailroom this morning, and they’re scanning everyone who was there.”

(Startlingly enough, my chest area measured as somewhat radioactive. It took the cops another ten minutes to realize it was my necklace, which had a reading of .001 from God knows what, and that I had not inhaled anything radioactive. I still don’t know what was in that package that someone in Turkey had to ship it to the USA to be picked up by a couple of guys and brought back to Turkey on their flight. I’m also amazed it wasn’t a fever dream.)

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