Mystery Solved

, , , , , , | Working | December 19, 2017

(I am 18 years old but I have a job as a mystery shopper. The people who run the mystery shopping company like to use me because people do not expect 18-year-olds to be mystery shoppers. I go into a department store to evaluate them. I overhear some workers gossiping about a possible mystery shopper coming in the next few weeks, without realising it is me. None of them greet me as they are too busy gossiping, which I note in my phone as a strike against them. An older gentleman with a small notebook and pencil comes into the store, and all the employees rush to greet him, leaving me on the sidelines.)

Me: “Can I see this in a size eight?”

Employee #1: “Yeah, in a sec, hon.”

(She ushers the older man to a chair and basically waits on him hand and foot. I wander around the store waiting for another employee to notice me, but none of them do.)

Me: *to another employee* “Sorry, can I get this in a size eight?”

Employee #2: “Can’t you see I’m busy? I’m helping that gentleman. Shouldn’t you be in school, anyway? You can get in trouble for truancy.”

(I end up being able to pull an employee away by threatening — very loudly — to call corporate. They do not want the customer who they think is the mystery shopper to overhear me, so they send what seems like the youngest employee to help me.)

Me: “Finally. Can I see this in a size eight?”

Employee #3: “Are you sure you’re an eight?”

Me: “Yes.”

Employee #3: “Let me measure you.”

(After I turn out to be an eight — go figure, but she gets points for going out of her way to help a guest find the right size — she goes to the back room for ten minutes — I time it — and comes back with the right shoe but the wrong colour.)

Me: “Um, I wanted this in blue.”

Employee: “Oh, yeah, we ran out of blue last week.”

Me: “Did you know that when you went into the back?”

(While I am talking, the employee is biting her lip and looking over my shoulder to view the older man. As part of my mystery shopper evaluation, I HAVE to buy something from the store. I do love the shoes, so I end up buying the colour she gave me. Once she hands me my shopping bag, she turns to leave, but I stop her.)

Me: “By the way, he’s not the mystery shopper.”

Employee: “How do you know?”

Me: “How do you think?”

(Her jaw dropped as I walked out of the store. Oh, and they failed the evaluation.)

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It Was A Dire Wolf Whistle

, , , , , , , | Working | December 16, 2017

I am a female engineer, and part of my job involves going to the various construction sites for my projects to inspect work and attend meetings. Please note that in my area, white hardhats are worn only by supervisors, inspectors, and engineers — basically anyone with authority on the site. All other personnel wear other coloured hardhats.

One day, I am walking up to the site dressed in regular “civilian” clothing. When I get to the gate, I stop and start rummaging in my bag to get out my construction gear. As I do so, a construction worker in a yellow hat sees me and starts wolf-whistling, trying to catch my eye. I don’t say anything, but pull out my white hat and plop it on my head. His eyes go wide, and I hear a quiet “Oh, s***!” as he scrambles out of sight.

I spent four hours on site, but didn’t see him for the rest of my visit.

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In The Mood To Sue Again

, , , , , | Working | December 15, 2017

(I am doing my morning duties when I notice a woman I don’t recognise wandering into the staff-only area. I quickly follow her and find her in the bakery part of our back rooms.)

Me: “Excuse me. I’m sorry, but you can’t be back here.”

Ex-Employee: “Oh, it’s fine, dear; I used to work here. I must say, this bakery looks disgusting. It was never like this when I worked here!”

(Admittedly the bakery is a little messy after the morning batches are done, but by no means “disgusting.”)

Me: “It’s just a few crumbs, and we’re not finished with the ovens yet, but you really can’t be back here.”

Ex-Employee: “Nonsense. [Manager who retired six years ago] won’t mind. Here.” *hands me her CV* “I really think you’ll need me. This place has gone to hell without me, hasn’t it?”

(She heads back out to the shop floor, waving at another supervisor, and leaves.)

Me: “[Supervisor], do you know her?”

Supervisor: “I guess. She used to work the bakery and stock, years ago. What did she want?”

Me: “A job.” *I hold up her CV*

Supervisor: *laughs* “Christ, well, she’s got some balls.”

Me: “What? Why?”

Supervisor: “Well, she stacked some cases of drink way too high and it ended up falling on her. She sued the owner. They paid her a huge sum, and gave her paid leave, as well, but then she didn’t want to come back when her leave was up, which was just fine with the owner. I guess that money is running out, if she’s wanting to come back.”

Me: “Does she honestly think [New Manager] will hire her, knowing all that?”

Supervisor: “Wouldn’t surprise me. He might not even know who she is, actually, being fairly new himself, but I’ll let him know just in case.”

Me: “We’ve apparently gone to hell without her, too.”

Supervisor: “Oh, God, she used to come in covered in dog hair! Always got into the morning rolls; it was so gross. We’d have to remove them all and make fresh ones. She wasted so much bread! “

(I did pass the woman’s CV along to the manager, but we weren’t even looking for staff, and after hearing the supervisor’s story, the manager said he wouldn’t have hired her, anyway. She returned a few more times asking about our staff needs, each time dodging us and walking right into the staff-only area to hunt down the manager.)

Racism Will No Longer Be Accepted For Delivery

, , , , , , , , | Working | December 14, 2017

(I work as a receptionist for a small video editing company. The boss is the epitome of evil, a real piece of s***. She seems to really have it out for our delivery man, who is African-American. We have a table in the lobby with a book where all packages going out are written down. The delivery man is supposed to come by, check the table, and pick up any packages that are there. The table is in front of a large window and it is pretty obvious if there are any packages going out. The boss storms in and angrily asks:)

Boss: “Is the delivery guy coming in and getting the packages?”

Me: “He is checking daily, yes.”

Boss: “That isn’t what I asked. Is he physically coming into the building?”

Me: “Well, no. If the table is empty he—”

(The boss storms off and gets on the phone and calls, screaming at the poor customer service person. My boss gets so obsessive that she even starts checking the surveillance cameras to make sure he comes into the lobby and doesn’t just open the door and peek in. She insists that he come all the way into the lobby, close the door behind him, stand at the table for a few seconds, and then leave. I am getting more than annoyed by this. She calls almost daily, screaming about the poor guy. One day he calls me because he is running behind and asks if there are any packages. I tell him he is in luck; not only are there none, but the boss is out that day. The next day he comes in and the boss is there to yell at him again. She has checked the surveillance tapes. When he leaves, she comes to my desk and says that he had better just do his job.)

Me: “You know that these delivery guys only have so much time to deliver, and any place they can shave off a few seconds really helps them.”

Boss: “I don’t care. The only thing that n***** should say, is, ‘Yeth, Masta.’”

(Then she storms off to call and complain again. I am in too much shock and, shamefully, I say nothing. I am gone by the next week. I get a great job as a receptionist at a company a few miles down the road, and who should walk in my first week there but the delivery guy, with a trainee in tow. We greet each other like old friends.)

Delivery Guy: “I am so glad to see you here away from that awful woman.”

Me: “I am, too. I am so glad I got to see you! And I am so sorry for the horrible way she treats you.”

Delivery Guy: “I just don’t know what her problem is.”

Me: “You don’t know?” *he shakes his head, and I quietly tell him, embarrassed* “It’s because you are black.”

(He and the trainee both look shocked.)

Me: “She would not have given you any trouble if you were white. She only called and made up ridiculous complaints because she hated you because of the color of your skin. She is a horrible racist. I can’t even begin to repeat the horrible racist comments she would make when you left the building or after she would get off the phone with customer service complaining about you. I just couldn’t stand being there anymore, which is why I left.”

(He shakes my hand and leaves. The next week, he comes in without the trainee.)

Me: “Hello, again! Is your trainee out on his own?”

Delivery Guy: “That wasn’t my trainee; that was my manager. You saved my job.”

Me: “What? How?”

Delivery Guy: “That blasted ex-boss of yours called and complained so much that when a normal and justified complaint came in, the company was going to fire me. The manager was going around with me to see what I was doing wrong and if I was even going to have the chance to keep my job. After we left here, he told me I was good, and there would be no more talk about it. As a matter of fact, the delivery company cancelled your ex-boss’s contract and told her they would no longer deliver for or to her. She will have to drive to the hub to get any packages that are mailed to her.”

(I was so thrilled. Several years later I got to congratulate him on a well-deserved promotion before I left on maternity leave.)

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Pregnant With Inattentiveness

, , , , | Working | December 14, 2017

(I am a first semester freshman in college, and visit the health care center to see if something can be done about stomach cramps and nausea, which have gotten so bad I’m having trouble sleeping. The nurse on duty is looking at papers on her desk or her computer the entire time.)

Me: “I’m having trouble sleeping, my belly’s uneasy, and I’m just not feeling well. It’s been going on since I got to campus, and—”

Nurse: *interrupting* “Are you pregnant?”

Me: “No. It’s probably just anxiety, but it might also be the water, I heard that different regions have—”

Nurse: *interrupting* “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure. Can I list the symptoms and see if you have anything that’ll help?”

Nurse: “Have you taken a pregnancy test? How do you know you’re not pregnant?”

Me: “Well, for starters because it’s biologically impossible for me to get pregnant—”

Nurse: *interrupting* “If you’ve had sex, it’s possible to get pregnant. You know the university provides free contraception; all you would have had to do is—”

Me: *interrupting* “I’m going to stop you right there. Look at me. I am not a woman. I do not have a uterus. I cannot get pregnant. Now are you going to help me or not?”

(The nurse finally looks up from the paperwork/computer, and sees I am most certainly not a woman.)

Nurse: “Oh… well… um… someone will be with you shortly…”