Food For Thought-less Comments

, , , , , , | Right | January 8, 2020

(I’m waiting tables in the cocktail area of a chain restaurant. This area is first-come-first-serve even with the one-hour wait currently at the door for the main dining room. I walk up and greet a couple that just sat at a table. I have seen them occasionally before.)

Male Diner: “We’re in a hurry.”

Me: “Okay, well, since we are busy you will want to order something fast like—” *rattles off the fastest items to make*

Male Diner: “What do you mean, you’re busy?”

Me: “Well, you just walked by the hour-wait at the door, right?”

Male Diner: “Whatever. Maybe if you hired some real cooks instead of those [racial slurs] you have in the kitchen, you could handle it.”

(My jaw drops and I just stare for a beat. I turn around and walk away shaking mad, as I’m close with my cooks and know how much harder they work than most of the people I have ever known. I walk up to my general manager who knows I pride myself on handling any situation.)

Me: “I won’t wait on that table. I mean it, I won’t wait on them. I’ll be out back.”

(I walk out to compose myself. I come back a minute later and the bartender is waiting on them. I ignore them and continue taking care of the rest of my customers. Just before they leave, I decide I can’t keep my mouth shut.)

Me: *coming close and speaking low* “That was pretty brave. I made sure those [racial slurs] knew that that was your food.”

(This was a lie, but I was willing to risk them telling the story to try and get me in trouble and to see the color drain from his face. His wife never said a word through the whole thing. On the plus side, I never saw them again.)

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Expecting You To Pick Something Out Of The Blue

, , , , | Right | January 2, 2020

(I work at a large chain auto parts store. I don’t mind answering the phone, but sometimes it gets… interesting.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Auto Parts Store]. This is [My Name]. How can I help?”

Customer: “Yeah, I need some parts for my van.”

Me: “Okay. Make, model, year?”

Customer: *silence*

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: “I don’t know, but it’s blue.”

Me: “I really can’t do much without knowing what kind of van you have.”

Customer: “I told you. It’s blue.”

Me: “Unless you’re looking for touch-up paint, I can’t do a lot with that information.”

Customer: “I have called three different stores and nobody has been able to help me! It’s not that hard to look up parts for a blue van!” *hangs up*

(At this point, I am not sure if this guy is serious, a prank caller, or of one of my coworkers messing with me. I forget about the call after laughing about it with the other guys for a few hours… until a blue van rolls up and its driver walks in.)

Customer: “I need parts for my blue van.”

(It was a Chrysler, for those curious.)

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Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 3

, , , , , , | Right | January 1, 2020

(I am a parts saleswoman at a large auto parts store. Often, I get flak from customers — mostly older men — who assume that because I have boobs and am in my 20s, I know nothing about cars, particularly vintage vehicles. I’m a vintage American muscle enthusiast, so I have extensive knowledge in the area. A customer walks in one evening, sees me, and immediately demands that he wants to talk to “one of the guys.” I inform him that my coworker is changing a battery in the parking lot and may be a while, but I would be more than happy to assist him.)

Customer: “Fine, but you can’t help me. 1967 Mustang.”

Me: “Okay, what is the engine size?”

Customer: “It’s a 350.”

Me: “Oh, it’s got a Chevy motor?”

Customer: “No, it’s a Ford engine.”

Me: “So, it’s the 351?”

Customer: *angrily* “No. It’s a d*** Ford, so it’s got a d*** Ford 350 engine! Look it up!”

Me: “Sir, there’s no such thing as a Ford 350. Ford has a 351, so unless you swapped it for a Chevy 350, that’s what your Mustang has. Common misconception.”

Customer: “You don’t think I know what engine my Mustang has in it? It’s a d*** 350, so find me parts for a 350!”

(I ended up selling him the parts for a Chevy 350 since he wouldn’t shut up. Lo and behold, two days later he showed back up during my shift and rather sheepishly admitted that he was mistaken and his Mustang did, in fact, have a 351. I sold him the correct parts and never saw him or his Mustang ever again.)

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 2
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries

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Unfiltered Story #181157

, , , | Unfiltered | December 28, 2019

[I worked at a children’s clothing store chain over the summer. It was around September that this happened; we had stopped selling summer PJs except in our clearance section, and had started getting flannels in.]

Me: Hello, sir! Is there anything I can help you find?
Customer: Yes, I’m looking for some PJs.

[I take him to the back of the store where we have all the PJs, pointing out the clearance rack, the warmer PJs we’ve gotten in, and the sets that come with short sleeve shirts, short pants, and long pants]

Customer: My son can’t wear these! He’ll roast in them!
Me: I’m sorry, sir. We’ve started carrying PJs for winter. We may have a few pairs in clearance, if you’d like to look there, or we have these sets.
Customer: It’s still 70 degrees!
Me: I’m very sorry. These sets have short pants with them, though!
Customer: Those are too expensive!
Me: We might have a few left in clearance, but we have been mostly bought out of our summer clothes.
Customer: You don’t have his size! This is ridiculous! What am I supposed to do?

[This went on for a little while, all while his children ran around the store doing whatever they wanted, because their dad was too busy being mad at me for decisions I don’t make to supervise them]

A Rather Queer Interview Technique

, , , , , , , | Working | December 4, 2019

(I’ve just started a new job for a company that represents various progressive non-profit groups. The two clients our office oversees are an environmental organization and an LGBT organization. Although I’ve had other positions where I’ve overseen staff before, I need to be trained on how the company conducts interviews by a coworker who has been there for a while. The coworker training me during this interview happens to be a lesbian. We have just finished basic work history questions with this applicant.)

Coworker: “We are currently working on behalf of [Environmental Organization] and [LGBT Organization]. We have enough openings right now to assign you to your preferred group but may need you to work with the other if the need arises.”

Applicant: “Well, I’d love to work on [Environmental Organization]. I’m not all that cool with that queer stuff.”

Coworker: “Well…”

Applicant: “It’s like, no one made them be gay; that was their decision, which is fine and all, but that doesn’t mean you get special rights, you know?”

Coworker: “Um…”

Applicant: “They think they deserve to marry each other and all, but like, if I get married that makes my marriage mean less, you know? Plus, if they really want benefits so bad or whatever, then a queer guy should just marry, like, a queer chick or something, right?”

(I notice my coworker is biting her lip, ready to go off on the guy, so I step in.)

Me: “Well, that’s all the questions I think we have. We will be in touch if we decide to bring you on.”

Applicant: “Great! I really look forward to working here. This place seems great!”

(My coworker thanked me afterward for stepping in at that point as she likely couldn’t have handled it professionally. How that guy still seemed to think he was going to get hired was beyond either of us.)

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