Karma Instantáneo

, , , , , , | Working | April 5, 2020

(I’m on a four-day high school trip. After we stop for lunch on the way home, I go with a friend to a nearby gas station/corner store so she can buy some candy for the remaining fourteen hours of the bus ride. While she gets her candy, I start looking for a cheap souvenir, since everything in the hotel gift shop was either ridiculously expensive or simply impractical to travel with. I’m still looking when my friend pays for her candy, so she stands outside the store while I try to pick something out. Finally, I pick something and bring it to the counter. The cashier, a friendly young black man, has been cheery with my friend and absolutely nothing at all notable has happened so far. Neither I nor my friend look even remotely Latino or Hispanic, so I’m a little surprised when he starts speaking to me in Spanish, just as happily as before.)

Cashier: “¡Hola! ¿Como estás?”

(I’m surprised, but I smile and speak with next to no trace of my American accent.)

Me: “Cansado. ¿Y tu?”

(The cashier is clearly thrown off.)

Cashier: “Oh, s***.”

(His coworker, who heard everything in the back room, started laughing so hard that I thought he was going to fall off the small ladder I could see him standing on. I quickly told the cashier that I spoke English and was taking Spanish as a second language. He said that he sometimes did the Spanish to have some fun with customers, and he definitely didn’t expect me to try to start a conversation. The back room employee kept laughing about how “you showed him!” while the cashier rang up my souvenir. He was still laughing when I said, “¡Gracias, adios!” on my way out. I sometimes wonder if the back room guy ever let the cashier live down that little Spanish encounter or if it became some sort of cautionary tale about not trying to confuse customers.)

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Did Her Brain Stop Working, Too?

, , , , , , , , | Working | April 4, 2020

My husband and I both ordered a salad and entree each with our waitress, who appeared to write a bit on a notepad.

His salad came out and, after waiting a bit for mine before starting, he finally took a couple bites. Then, our entrees came.

We flagged our waitress to tell her I had never received my own salad.

She said, “Well, my pen stopped working,” and kind of looked at us for a moment and walked away.

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How About Zero For The Price Of Zero?

, , , , , | Working | April 3, 2020

(The company for which I work has subscribed to a particular monthly industry report for almost two decades. The quality of the analysis it contains — and our use of the data — has declined in the last couple of years since the report’s original creator retired and sold the business. When our subscription comes up for renewal this fall, the amount invoiced is almost double last year’s. I contact them to find out why.)

Rep: “You can now have up to five user IDs!”

Me: “We don’t want five IDs. We only use one.”

Rep: “But you can have up to five, for the price of two!”

Me: “We don’t want five. We don’t want two. We only want one, and not for the price of two.”

(Whereupon I sally forth and find… another source! Almost all the same data! Best of all, it’s FREE! And so, I email the rep:)

Me: “Sorry, we’re not going to renew our subscription at this time.”

(To which, a day or two later, the rep responds:)

Rep: “Well, we can give you a single ID… for the same price as before. BUT YOU CAN HAVE UP TO FIVE, FOR THE PRICE OF TWO!”

(I just facepalmed.)

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Some Days You Just Feel Old

, , , , , | Working | April 3, 2020

(I started working as a personal assistant to the elderly in August. Since then, I have begun receiving calls for final expenses. I have no clue how they got my number, but whatever. Usually, I just hang up, but this time I want to try and get on the do-not-call list and press a number to speak with a rep.)

Rep: “Hello, thank you for holding. How may I help you?”

Me: “Hey there. This phone belongs to a 35-year-old. I do not need final expenses. Can you please remove my number from your database?”

Rep: “Oh, I see.”

Me: “…”

Rep: “…”

Me: “So, can you please remove my number?”

Rep: “Are you sure you’re 35?”

Me: *confused pause* “Am I sure I’m 35?”

Rep: “Yes.”

Me: “Yes. Yes, I am. Stop calling.”

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No Such Thing As Too Much Garlic

, , , , , | Working | April 2, 2020

My mother and I are out at a nice Italian restaurant for dinner. At this restaurant, any dinner comes with salad and garlic knots as a starter. When the knots come out, they are completely covered in garlic, which neither of us mind too much.

My mom loves to kid around with restaurant employees and jokingly asks our server if we could possibly get more garlic. Usually, when my mom does this, the server laughs a bit, but ours says nothing and walks away.

We think nothing of it until the server returns a few minutes later with a bowl of garlic! To this day I still wonder if it was a joke or if she actually thought we wanted more garlic on our already garlic-drowned garlic knots.

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