Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

And That’s Why Socks Are Banned At Work

, , , , | Working | CREDIT: viodox0259 | January 16, 2021

I work in a casino. One of my friends who I haven’t seen in years ended up being part of the crew. It was kind of nice to catch up. We never really got along as we grew up because he has a very high picture of himself. He wanted that 10/10 woman, a mansion, and a new Corvette.

Every month or so, we would all go up to another casino to play. I would bring no more than $500, but I couldn’t understand how this guy was spending thousands of dollars at the tables. This went on for a few months.

Well, one day, as we were closing the casino, he and I were in the High Limit room getting ready to close the tables. We were told to take the chips out, count them, put them back, sign this piece of paper, and that was it. As the supervisor was locking the tray, the piece of paper fell to the floor, so she asked [Friend] to grab it.

As he bent over, a great big $500 chip fell right out of his sock. [Friend] was fired immediately, but suddenly, his spending all made sense.

They offered [Friend] a deal that if he replaced all the stolen chips, they would not make it public. Not sure how that turned out.

She Missed The Hive Mind Memo

, , , , , | Working | January 14, 2021

It’s been a rather rough week and I want to treat myself to some of Seattle’s finest. I order ahead through the coffee shop’s app for one tall mocha latte so that I can pick it up after my last shift of the week. I get confirmation on the app and go.

I get there and go to the end of the counter for the drink, but there are none. I am confused and wave down a barista. He comes over and I show him the app and explain that I am here to pick up this drink.

Barista: “Are you sure? I thought you would have wanted a grande pumpkin spice latte.”

Me: “No, I ordered a tall mocha.”

Barista: “I don’t think so.”

Me: “Um… Why?”

Barista: “Because you’re a girl in her late teens. Your type always only orders pumpkin spice.”

Me: “…”

Barista: “If this is some sort of scam to try and get a free drink—”

Me: “I hate to be this person, but can I see your manager?”

Thankfully, the manager is understanding and extremely apologetic. I’m not trying to be an entitled brat, but JESUS. I am twenty-five years old and I just wanted a small pick-me-up.

The best part? As I am leaving, I hear the manager ask his barista what he was thinking. The barista replies:

Barista: “Because my girlfriend only orders pumpkin spice! Don’t girls only ever order pumpkin spice?”

I don’t think I will be going back there any time soon.

Don’t Bank On Anything Useful

, , , | Working | January 14, 2021

My husband and I took some church youth on a trip a few years ago and the church debit card locked up because we had unknowingly broken some security rules. There was no way to unlock it right away, but it automatically unlocked the next day, and we understood the problem and could figure out how to work around it. There were some changes made to how the account worked right before this trip, and somehow, none of the four employees I spoke to in getting things sorted out in the week leading up to the trip — all of whom were informed that we needed things in order before leaving — thought to tell me the out-of-state rules were different than in-state.

Fast forward a few years. We are preparing for another trip with our church youth. I call the local branch of the bank about two months before our trip to get a list of rules so we know what to do and not to do so that we aren’t stuck using personal accounts halfway across the country. The teller is completely confused by my request for travel policies and looks up the person who regularly works with our church accounts. This person also has no idea what to do with my request and transfers me to someone in the corporate office.

I explain what I need again and how it was a problem in the past.

Bank Employee: “We don’t give those out. It increases the risk of fraud if people know the safeguards we have in place.”

Me: “So, you shut down people’s accounts for breaking rules, but you won’t tell them what the rules are so that they can follow them?”

Bank Employee: *Pauses* “Yes… we don’t even have a compiled list of all those policies.”

Me: “We can’t really work with that. I have parents who are trusting me to take care of their kids, and your policies are to refuse me the information necessary to do that.”

Bank Employee: “I will see what I can find out for you, but please do not make it public.”

This lady emailed me a few times after my phone call to let me know she was working on my request, which required speaking to multiple departments. I finally received a list of their safeguards about three weeks before we left. I printed one copy of the list before deleting the email, after thanking her. We did not have any problems with frozen accounts on that trip.

Numbers Are Hard, But Not This Hard

, , , , , | Working | January 13, 2021

It’s the holidays, and I’ve boxed up some items to send to friends. I’m already regretting not just having them sent straight from the vendors but I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it.

I drop off some packages at the local [Package Service] store and get the boxes shipped out. One makes it to its destination fine, but the other says it was delivered even though my friend did not actually receive it. After checking with her neighbors and confirming the package is not there, I attempt to figure out the issue.

I’m thwarted at every turn by their online claims process. First, I have to log in, then I have to add a payment method even though I’m not paying for anything, and then I am told that the package has to be associated with my account without actually giving any hint on how to do so.

I give in and actually call the customer service line. I’m already annoyed, and having to take an educated guess at the correct route to take through the labyrinth of automated options to get to “Where the f*** is my package?” does not improve my mood at all. By the way, call centers have gotten wise to the “press zero” trick; the robot actually chastises me for trying to get directly to a person rather than choose an option.

Finally, I get to a person, who I address as calmly as possible since I know that this whole rigmarole is in no way her fault.

Rep: “Hello! Thank you for calling [Package Service]. How can I help you?”

Me: “My package is showing as delivered, but the recipient doesn’t have it. Can we find out what happened to it?”

The rep asks for the tracking number and I give it to her.

Rep: “Okay, it looks like that package was delivered to [Correct Street and Town but wildly incorrect house number].”

Me: “Wait. That’s not right. That’s not the right house number at all.”

Rep: “Uh… let me send you over to my supervisor.”

After a short hold:

Supervisor: “Hello! What can I help you with?”

Me: “I’ve determined that my package was delivered to the wrong house number. Can you help me with that at all?”

Supervisor: “Hmm… Well, it looks like you didn’t put a house number on the label, so they just delivered it to a house on that street!”

She says this like it makes perfect sense. Not only am I pretty d***ed sure that I put a house number on there, but I cannot fathom the logic behind just dropping a package at a random house and hoping for the best. Also worth noting is that this is a State Route address, so it’s likely MILES from the correct place.

Me: “I’m fairly sure I put a house number on the label. I double-checked it in the store.”

Supervisor: “Well, would you like us to try to collect the package and send it back to the UPS store it was sent from?”

Me: “Um… No? Not really?”

I admit to losing my cool here a bit, at least in tone.

Supervisor: “Well, I don’t have an option to send it to a new address, since it’s not like we made a mistake!”

Again, there’s stunned silence for a moment on my end. I count essentially throwing a dart on where my package was supposed to go a mistake, but I also left them my phone number when I dropped off the package. They had plenty of ways to rectify this, even assuming it was my mistake, which I’m still not convinced of, and they did not. Also, I’ve worked in customer service. Even when it IS the customer’s fault, you don’t just say that to them!

Me: “Are you serious?”

Supervisor: “Uh… Well… If you want, we can send a notice to the local store and have them try to collect it and then send it to the correct address.”

I’m thinking, “You mean that thing you just said you couldn’t do?”

Me: “Yes. Please. That will be perfect.”

The supervisor takes the correct house number for me.

Supervisor: “Okay, I have that sent off. It should be delivered either Monday or Tuesday. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Me: “No. Thank you.”

Supervisor: “Thank you. Have a good day!”

Robot: “Please stay on the line for our short survey!”

Me: “You really do not want me to do that.”

Here’s hoping that my friend actually gets her package. But I’m going to place my bets on having to reorder it.

Blind To Common Sense

, , , , , | Working | January 13, 2021

My husband and I live in an apartment with slat window blinds on all the windows. They’ve been driving me crazy because they are over a foot too long, and the landlord has said we can cut them if we want. I want to take scissors to them but my husband suggests a home improvement store might have a tool to just cut them all at once since they trim blinds all the time. He calls our local big box home improvement store and they tell us sure, no problem.

We go into the store, head over to the window blinds area, and find a worker in the store’s uniform apron. We describe what we want.

Worker: “I don’t know if we can do that.”

Then, he sits and stares at us.

Husband: “Um, well, I called earlier and the guy working this morning said you could—”

Worker: “I’ve only been working here for six months; there’s a lot I don’t know yet.”

He sits and stares at us again.

Me: “Could you ask someone?”

The worker gets up and calls over someone who turns out to be his supervisor. They have a very quick conversation about the material the blinds are made out of, how to cut them, etc. The supervisor turns to us with a smile.

Supervisor: “Sure, we can get that done real quick. [Worker], you know how to use the machine, right?”

Worker: “Yes. I didn’t know that we could do this.”

He then takes our blinds and starts walking over to the machine while the supervisor walks away. 

Worker: “So, what length do you want these cut to?”

Me: “We’d like them a foot shorter.”

The worker nods. He then lays the blinds on the work table, turns his back to us, and gets to work. After a few minutes, he hands me a stack of blinds and I’m shocked. They’re all cut at widely different lengths and have black marks anywhere from a half-inch to an inch above the cut mark. He sees the look on my face and immediately gets defensive.

Worker: “I’ve only been here for a few months.”

Husband: “What? But you said you could do this—”

Worker: *Louder* “I was doing you a favor; we wouldn’t normally trim blinds you didn’t buy here!”

Me: “Whoa, nobody told us that—”

Worker: *Now shouting* “You are supposed to tell me how long you want them to be! The machine can’t measure what you cut off; it cuts to length!”

Husband: “Why didn’t you tell us that?”

Me: “We could have measured them first and subtracted a foot or something! We don’t know how your machine works!”

Worker: *Still shouting* “I was doing you a favor!”

I spot the supervisor walking out of the back room and wave to catch his attention. He starts walking over but [Worker] speed-walks over to intercept him. I can hear shouts of, “They gave the wrong measurements,” and, “We aren’t supposed to do this.”

The supervisor looks at the stack of blinds and then looks at the employee.

Supervisor: “What did you do?”

Worker: “I measured a foot from the bottom and drew my cut line, and then I tried to guess the length to put into the machine to get it to cut to that length. I got close, see?”

And he holds up the stack of blinds. The difference between the shortest and longest ones is about three inches.

The supervisor looks at the worker for a long minute and then turns to us to ask what we want done; the best he can do is even them all out at this point.

Me: “Um, so… what did you use to mark the blinds?”

The worker takes a Sharpie out of his pocket.

Husband: *Starting to freak out a bit* “You drew on our white blinds with a black Sharpie?”

Worker: “Just on the back.”

Husband: “Both sides show when the blinds are open!”

The worker looks at the blinds, takes one, and squints at the Sharpie mark on it, sticks his finger in his mouth, takes it out, and starts rubbing the mark with his wet finger.

In the end, he had marked the blinds so unevenly and badly that some were shortened by well over a foot, which meant they were now too short to cover the window. And that’s how we ended up with some brand new blinds and an apology from a supervisor who seemed very, very tired.