Looks Lick The Wrong Job

, , , , , , | Working | November 27, 2018

(I’ve been applying for jobs and have gotten an interview at a gas station, specifically for the night shift. The woman interviewing me is very casual and laid-back, which makes me feel very comfortable about the position.)

Interviewer: “And you do get a few strange folk during the night, but nothing too creepy. One guy asked to lick me because he wanted to know if I taste as sweet as I look.”

(She seemed completely unconcerned about the incident, and even laughed. I left the interview with no intention of ever working a gas station, anywhere.)

Reuse Vs. Refuse

, , , | Working | November 26, 2018

(Our local [Fast Food Chicken Places] have stopped providing plastic caps and straws for drinks in an effort to reduce plastic use, but I’ve never needed them, anyway. I am in a different fast food restaurant, and am about to take two plates’ worth of chilli sauce from the self-serving dispenser, when one employee is in the way, presumably moving around cleaning tables.)

Me: “Excuse me.”

(The employee decides to go the extra mile and help me take two plates of chilli sauce and bring it to my table nearby.)

Me: “Thanks.”

Employee: “If you need more, just take new plates. Don’t reuse.”

Me: “Is there a reason for that?”

Employee: “They’re very cheap. No need to bother!”

Me: “…”

(I ignored him and reused them, anyway, when I ran out of sauce.)

Getting Your Moissanite’s Worth

, , , , , , | Working | November 24, 2018

(One of my dad’s friends refers us to a jeweler who is selling his laptop on Craigslist, and I volunteer to check it out. I just got engaged two months prior, and my fiancée had insisted on giving me a moissanite ring that many of my retail customers and coworkers had mistaken for a diamond. I also have a habit of talking with my hands, and using them in new ways to describe nouns and objects, which people somehow get offended by because it seems to them like I’m “showing off.” I’m in the ritziest part of Snobsdale, at a super fancy-looking jewelry store. I already don’t want to deal with this part of town because I never feel, despite my appearance in a white, button-down shirt and pressed, black slacks, that I can blend in with the ultra-rich people who frequent stores like the one I’m walking into.)

Woman: *in a somewhat snobbish tone* “Hello. Can I help you?” *noting my messy hair in a clip on top of my head* “Are you lost?”

Me: “[Manager] asked me to meet here—” *points at counter* “—to pick up a laptop. *makes a square with my hands*

Woman: *grabs my hand* “Oh! What a beautiful ring! Do you want to sell it?”

Me: “Uh, no? I’m here for the laptop? [Manager] has it.”

Woman: “I would love to add it to—” *sweeps hand over a large selection of $20k+ diamond rings* “—my collection here. Oh, your ring would be the star!” *prattles on about it’s supposed clarity and quality*

Me: *peruses rings briefly, noting the large price tags, and trying to get my hand away from her* “Um… Wow. Soooo… Where is [Manager]?”

Manager: *singing his greeting* “Helloooooooooo!”

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name], here for the laptop.”

Manager: “Oh, yes, that’ll be $150.”

(I inspect the laptop, find everything in order and perfectly running, according to the ad, and hand over the money. The manager is talking to me while I’m running the laptop through its paces, and I’m generally feeling happier and less self-conscious about being there.)

Woman: “So, how long are you going to be with running the laptop like crazy? I’m sure [Manager] would like to see your ring.”

Me: *happily* “Hopefully not too long; I have to make sure that [Manager]’s 100% here, and that it can run all these programs at the same time.” *shows him my ring*

Manager: “Oh, my God. Oh, wow. That is gorgeous. Is it real?”

Me: “It exists.”

Manager: “Uh, oh, I, uh… I, hmm… I mean, is it a diamond?”

Me: “No.”

Woman: *talking over me* “Of course it’s a diamond! I know my jewels!” *prattles on about the supposed clarity and quality again, then looks at me* “I’ll give you thirty-two thousand dollars for it.”

Me: *coughs and looks at her, surprised* “I… I’m sorry, what? If my fiancée ever spent thirty-two thousand dollars on a ring, I… I’d kill him and bring him back to life so I could kill him again! That’s a house’s do—”

Woman: “Oh, I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal, really! It’s just money! Besides, you’re a well-dressed lady with an eye for fashion. It’s just money, honey!”

Me: Wow.” *holds up ring* “The street value on this ring will never match its sentimental value.”

(Both of them laugh in the most snobby way I have ever heard in my life. At the time, I didn’t know about the wands that can tell a diamond from a moissanite. I would have suggested she check the ring if I had! My running the laptop through its paces is over, so I turn it off, hand him the cash, and put the laptop in the bag he gave me.)

Woman: “So, you won’t consider the offer?”

Me: “Nope! It’s actually a—”

Woman: “It’s a gorgeous cut, amazing clarity, and would sell very quickly.”

Me: “I’m sure it would, but it has a sentimental value that far exceeds anything you could offer me.”

Manager: “No counteroffer? Not even in trade for a ring here?” *sweeps hand over vast selection of rings, and starts in a high-pitched voice* “‘Oh, honey, you’ll never believe what I got at [Jewelry Store]! Oh, and ten thousand dollars cash, can you believe it?’” *resumes his normal tone* “All you’d have to do is trade it in for a 3/4 carat, and we’ll give you cash.”

Me: *now angry, because they’ve interrupted me at least twice now* “I said no! It’s a—”

Manager: “Of course, if you reconsider, the offer stands.”

Me: *a little angrier now* “And I won’t take it! Wow, y’all are persistent about this moissanite!” *points at the manager* “Another word out of your mouth, dude, and you can give me the money back, and you can keep this laptop!”

(I turn around and hear him quietly say “Wow!” as I continue walking. I put the laptop bag down.)

Me: *whirls back around on one foot and walks back towards them* “Okay. Money back, now.”

Manager: “No!”

Me: “Money. Now.”

Woman: *smugly* “The transaction was finished to your satisfaction; you can’t make him.”

Me: “And you can’t make me give up my moissanite for any price! Ever! Stop insisting! It’s real, because it exists, and lady, if you knew jewelry, you’d know how to tell the difference at a glance!”

Woman: *flustered that I questioned her talent* “Oh, just give her the money back, honey!”

Manager: *rolls eyes* “Pfffft, fine…” *hands me the money back*

(I put the laptop on one of the display cases and walked out. Several days later, I found my dad a better laptop, and paid the difference in price myself. My husband still jokes with me, whenever I tell friends this story, that I should have sold the ring and gotten ten more like it to sell them. I keep on being bothered by that pesky ethics thingy.)

Customers Make Strange Bedfellows

, , , , , , | Working | November 23, 2018

(Our store manager keeps some chairs at the front of the store, for people who want to sit while the rest of their party shops. One day at our morning meeting, he tells us that the regional manager will be visiting next week.)

Store Manager: “And you know how [Regional Manager] always gets on me about the chairs. So, when we hear he’s on his way, we’ll need to get them out of there.”

Coworker: “We should stage an argument. Tell customers to go up to him and complain that the chairs aren’t there.”

Supervisor: “My grandpa can do it!”

(A week later, after the visit is over, at the morning meeting, the store manager tells us about what happened right after the regional manager arrived. It went like this:)

Customer: “Hey, are you corporate?”

Regional Manager: “Not quite, but maybe I can help. What do you need?”

Customer: “I heard they’re having a visit from corporate so they had to take away all the chairs!

(Upon hearing this at the meeting…)

Coworker: “[Supervisor], was that your grandpa?”

Supervisor: *laughing* “No, I swear!”

Store Manager: “So [Regional Manager] says that since chairs are apparently a special thing that we do, we can keep them out. They’re back on the floor.”

(He then delivered a half-hearted admonishment for whoever let customers know that we were having a visit from a higher-up. Since he was clearly happy about the results, it was not super effective.)

When You’ve Got An Ex To Grind

, , , , , | Working | November 22, 2018

(I’m a female on my 20s at the checkout line with a single purchase: an axe.)

Female Cashier: “Is that for firewood or your ex-husband?”

Me: “Firewood. I broke mine earlier this week… My axe, not my ex-husband.”

(Ironically, I had gotten divorced a few months earlier. She really picked up my spirits on a day I was feeling down, and I still laugh about it.)

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