Dumb As A Post

, , , , , | Working | March 8, 2019

(We live in a townhome complex where we have community mailboxes. Usually, if you get a package, it’s placed in a larger mailbox and the key to access it is placed in your personal mailbox. Our mail carrier is already notorious for mis-delivering mail in our neighborhood, so when we don’t receive several packages, we think he’s given them to the wrong home again. We’re outside one day and we manage to see him while he’s at the mailboxes. We grab his attention and have this conversation:)

Husband: “Hey, we’ve had three packages that tracking says were delivered to us, but we never got them. Is there any chance you put them in the wrong box?”

Postal Worker: “I doubt it. What’s your address?” *checks our address and starts opening the package-sized mailboxes* “See? They’re all right here.”

(Sure enough, they are all together in one package-sized mailbox.)

Husband: “Okay, but then why didn’t you put the key to it in our mailbox? We never got the key, so we didn’t know they were there and had no way to get them!”

Postal Worker: “Oh, the key for that box is missing. It got lost a couple weeks ago.”

(Yup. He put our packages into a locked mailbox, didn’t tell us, didn’t give us the key, and didn’t understand why we had no idea our stuff was there.)

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Fajita For The Conchita

, , , , | Working | March 7, 2019

It’s a late night and we’ve all just got off shift. My coworkers and I decide to go as a group to a fast-casual place nearby with late hours. It should be noted I am one of three females in the group. When we get there, I order the fajita platter.

After a wait, the server starts to bring out the food. Before he serves me, he puts about four small plates in front of me. When I ask him what they’re for, he stares at me and says, “So you can share the fajita platter.”

I reply that he’s misunderstood; the fajitas are just for me. My two male coworkers who are next to me ordered their own food. He looks at them and they reply, “Yes, we have our own food.”

The server looks at us funny, but he brings our food without any fuss. I eat my fajitas and everyone else eats their food. Apparently, because I am a woman surrounded by men, I am expected to share. Oddly, he didn’t do that to my other female coworkers, who were also sitting next to men.

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A Combo Of Errors

, , , , | Working | March 7, 2019

(I go to a fast-food drive-thru on a busy Friday night. I order a combo that has a burger, fries, chicken nuggets, and a drink. I say how I want my burger and what I want to drink, and then I pull around.)

Worker: “Your total is [less than it should be].”

Me: “That was for the combo meal?”

Worker: “No, that was just for the burger and the drink.”

Me: “Okay, can you change that to the combo, please?”

Worker: “No, I’m sorry; you are going to have to get back in line.”

Me: “Really? There are, like, four people behind me.”

Worker: “Yes, we can’t change the order here.”

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Should Have Captured Her Reaction On Your Phone

, , , , , | Working | March 6, 2019

(I’ve ordered a pair of shoes to be delivered to the store and have brought up the invoice email on my phone, ready to give them the order code.)

Cashier: *scowling* “I’m not serving you if you are on your phone.”

Me: “I’m not on my phone; I have it open to—“

Cashier: *interrupting* “You young people are so rude — no manners. I’m not serving you until you put the phone away.”

Me: *smiles politely and puts my phone in my pocket*

Cashier: “Now, how can I help you?”

Me: “I’m here to pick up an online order.”

Cashier: “Well, I need to see the order number?”

Me: “Let me just get that for you.” *reaches for my phone in my pocket*

(Her face fell as she realised that that was my intention at the start of the conversation.)

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Depositing A Little Fear

, , , , , , | Right | March 6, 2019

(I work as a bank teller. As part of our training, we are told that if we are ever robbed we are to just hand over the money and not fight or argue with the robber. The branch that I trained at was robbed three months ago. I work in a grocery store bank, and it is the middle of a weekday. A customer walks up to my station. He’s a big guy and looks like he could be a football player.)

Me: “Hello. How are you?”

(The customer doesn’t say anything and does not change facial expression. I’m a little unnerved, as this is not usual, but I press on.)

Me: “How can I help you?”

(He just tosses a sealed envelope onto the counter. I feel myself fill with fear. This guy is robbing me with a note. I stare at the envelope, not wanting to open it. The customer isn’t saying anything, just staring at me. I suddenly get really, really angry. I look at my stapler and debate just throwing it at his face. I quickly toss that idea aside and open the envelope. Inside is a deposit. I complete the deposit and hand the customer the slip. The customer never says a word, just stares at me the whole time. I feel shaky so I go tell my manager about it.)

Me: “He just scared me the whole time. His facial expression never changed, and he never said a word.”

Manager: “What was his name?”

Me: “[Customer].”

Manager: “Oh, he’s deaf. That’s why he didn’t say anything. He’s a regular at the main branch, but sometimes he stops in here.”

(Boy, was I glad I didn’t throw my stapler at him!)

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