No Pods, Pads, Or Sense

, , , , | Working | October 18, 2017

Customer: “Do you sell iPods?”

Coworker: *doesn’t quite hear* “Sorry, did you say iPods or iPads?”

Customer: “iPods.”

Coworker: “Sorry, we don’t sell those.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. But you have iPads?”

Coworker: “No, sorry. We don’t sell those.”

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Put A Lid On Your Totally Reasonable Demands!

, , , , , , | Working | October 18, 2017

(I stop at a frozen custard shop to pick up some treats to take home for my family. The shop takes orders and then calls out items as they’re ready. I order three items “to go.” Soon, the employee is at the window calling out one of the items I’ve ordered, but without a lid, so I figure it isn’t mine. Eventually, though, I go to the window.)

Me: “Is that the [item] I ordered?”

Employee: “Did you order [item]?”

Me: “Yes.”

Employee: *tries to hand me the item*

Me: “To go…”

Employee: *looks at me blankly*

Me: “…which means it needs a lid.”

(The employee grabbed a lid, put it on the item, and handed it to me. She then tried to hand me the next two items I’d ordered without lids, too; I had to tell her they also needed them.)

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Will Make You Want A Drink In The End

, , , , , , | Working | October 16, 2017

Me: “Hello. Could I have a [chicken burger] please? Just the burger.”

Cashier: “Would you like cheese?”

Me: “No, thanks. Just the plain burger.”

Cashier: “What drink would you like?”

Me: “No drink. Just the burger.”

Cashier: “You choose the drink from the machine there.”

Me: “I just want the burger.”

Cashier: “So, you want a bottle?”

Me: “No. Just the burger.”

Cashier: “Okay. That’s £6.30 please.”

Me: “The board says it’s £4.50.”

Cashier: “That’s for the burger on its own.”

Me: “That’s what I want. Just the burger.”

Cashier: “Just the burger?”

Me: “Yes.”

Cashier: “Do you want chips?”

Me: “No. Just the burger.”

Cashier: “Do you want a drink?”

Me: “Just the burger.”

Cashier: “Just the burger?”

Me: “Just the burger.”

Cashier: “That’s £4.50, then.”

Me: “Thank you very much.”

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Talking About Music Therapy Requires Therapy

, , , , | Working | October 14, 2017

(I can’t complain too much because I end up getting my license renewed in 10 minutes, but I have the weirdest conversation with the employee who processes it.)

Employee: “Wow, 21? Did you get hammered on your birthday?”

Me: *the question takes me by surprise, but I laugh a bit* “Oh, no; I just went out for a drink with some friends. I was living in New York before coming back to Colorado, which is why the license is so expired.”

Employee: “Oh. So, what were you in New York for?”

Me: “Completing my clinical hours for a degree in music therapy. I worked in hospice, on an adult and pediatric program.”

Employee: “Aw, where babies go to die?”

Me: *pause* “Unfortunately, yes, sometimes.”

Employee: “So, music therapy. You help people sleep?”

Me: “Not quite.”

(I explained a little about music therapy, grabbed my license, and shimmied on out of there. All I know is that I didn’t go through four years of school and 1,200 clinical hours to help people sleep!)

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Don’t Mess With Family (Business)

, , , , , , , | Working | October 13, 2017

(My wife and I have owned a café a few blocks from our house for over a year. I suck at cooking, so 90% of the time I’m a stay-at-home dad to our two-year-old, while my wife is at the café nigh on constantly. I do help out from time to time, and I’ve met most of the employees. I decide to bring our daughter in for lunch one day, since she’s been begging for mummy since she woke up.)

Me: *talking to new employee I’d never seen before* “Hi, is [Wife] in? I’d like to speak to her.”

New Employee: *rolls eyes and sighs* “I don’t know.”

Me: “Could you please find out?”

New Employee: *sighs again* “I can get the boss for you, but I don’t know who [Wife] is.”

Me: “[Wife] is the boss.”

New Employee: *snorts* “No, she isn’t. You’ve been lied to, mate.”

Me: *getting pretty angry at this point about how rude this girl is* “Just get the boss, then.”

New Employee: “Fine, if you’re going to be rude about it!”

(She stalks off. My daughter climbs up onto one of the chairs and sits at the table, pretending to read the menu and excitedly telling anyone who walks past, “SEE MY MUMMY!”)

New Employee: *stalks back over* “He’s coming. Could you control your kid, please? She’s bothering the other customers.”

Me: “She’s not hurting anyone.”

New Employee: “Ugh, whatever.”

(She flounces off to serve someone. A very frazzled looking [Brother-In-Law] comes out of the office and sees me.)

Brother-In-Law: “Oh, it’s just you! I thought it was another bloody complaint about her. [Wife] will be back in a bit; she just ran to get the milk order. Hey there, [Daughter]!”

(My daughter grins and giggles at the sight of her uncle, and in her excitement, knocks over her sippy cup she’d brought with her. It’s spill-proof, so it just falls to the floor and rolls under the table.)

Daughter: “Uh-oh! Sorry, Daddy!”

Me: “That’s fine, sweetie.”

(Before I can get over there, the new employee storms over, picks up the sippy cup, and SLAMS it onto the table, narrowly missing my daughter’s hand. The sudden noise and the girl’s angry face scares my daughter, who begins to cry.)

Brother-In-Law: “Hey! What the h***?!”

New Employee: “She’s been running around wrecking the place since he walked in, demanding to see some lady. He can’t control his kid, and he’s obviously picked up with some woman who lied about being the boss here to seem important.”

Me: “I asked to see [Wife] and she has been nothing but rude. Should I tell her or should you?”

(My brother-in-law has picked up my daughter and is cuddling her, trying to stop her from crying.)

Brother-In-Law: “[New Employee], [Wife] is the boss.”

New Employee: “No, she isn’t. [Supervisor who happens to be my sister-in-law] said some married couple owned the place. She’s not married; she doesn’t wear a ring.”

Me: “She doesn’t wear a ring because when she cooks it tears the gloves. It’s on a necklace instead.”

New Employee: “Ugh, whatever. Could you just stay out of this?”

Me: “Here, take a look at my license.”

(I hand her my wallet, and she flips it open and looks at my license. I’ve never seen someone go so pale so quickly as this employee when she looks at my surname — the name of the d*** café.)

Me: *to [Brother-In-Law]* “Has she had her warnings?”

Brother-In-Law: *grins* “Two, in writing. [Wife] wanted to give her one last chance.”

Me: “I’d say she’s used that.” *to her* “You’re fired.”

New Employee: *stammering* “You can’t do that! You’re not the boss! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

Wife: *who has apparently been standing quietly in the office doorway for a few minutes and has heard enough* “I am definitely the boss, and you are definitely fired.”

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