Groundhog Bag

, , , , , | Working | October 2, 2017

(I am at the checkout with my purchase.)

Cashier: “Do you want a carrier bag?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

(She spends a couple of minutes trying to fit the item into a carrier bag that is too small for it, before giving up and setting the item on the counter again. She pauses for a few seconds.)

Cashier: “Do you want a carrier bag?”

(I said no, as I wasn’t sure if we were about to repeat the entire sequence of events again!)

Write Down Or Get Written Up

, , , | Learning | October 2, 2017

(I work for a higher learning academy, which is a bit like a college or university. One day, a man comes in to inquire about a course we run. I tell him all the details of the course and the conversation runs smoothly, until this.)

Me: “All right, sir, I’m just going to need your details to get you admitted to the academy. Can I have your name, please?”

Man: *rattles off a long, foreign name, speaking very quickly*

Me: *knowing I’m going to struggle to spell it* “Could you please write that down for me?” *hands him some paper and a pen*

Man: “What?! I should not have to write that down!” *goes into a long rant about how I’m racist and thick for not being able to spell a name*

Me: “Sir, I am anything but racist. I have a mild form of dyslexia and sometimes find it easier and quicker to get clients to write names down.”

Man: “That’s just stupid. They should not have a stupid b**** doing this job!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel this way. I, however, love my job, and most people are understanding. Should I not continue with the application?”

Man: *sheepishly writes his name down for me, still muttering*

(The kicker: he was joining a course to become a support worker for people with mental and physical disabilities. I don’t know if he actually joined the course and passed, but I sure hope not!)

Self-Checkout Makes You Want To Drink

, , , , | Working | October 2, 2017

I’m the customer in this story. I am working full time, going to university in the evenings, volunteering at the weekends and, unbeknownst to me at the time, dealing with some pretty heavy depression. I am averaging two or three hours of sleep a night. One night after studying at the university library, I decide to head to the shops to pick up a few bits. My mum’s birthday is coming up and I see a bottle of whisky she likes on sale, so I decide to grab a bottle for her as a mini-present.

I get to the self-service checkout and I get picked for a random check of my bag, which is basically to stop people bagging stuff without scanning it. An employee comes over and checks my bag, and sure enough, the totals don’t match. After rescanning everything in my four bags, it turns out I had missed the 40p pack of sugar sprinkles to go on my mum’s cake! If I were going to steal anything, it would have been the £25 bottle of whisky. Now, anytime I go to the self-scan aisle, I get “randomly selected.”

All My One-Liners Are Golden

, , , , | Working | September 29, 2017

(I am 13, and a major fan of the show “The Golden Girls”. I’m at a popular coffee shop.)

Me: “May I please have [seasonal drink]?”

Cashier: “Name, please.”

Me: *makes reference to “The Golden Girls”* “Zulu, Queen of the Dwarf People.”

(Five minutes pass.)

Barista: “I have a coffee for Zulu, Queen of the Nerd people!”

(After picking up my coffee, I proceed to take off my coat, revealing my “Golden Girls” shirt.)

Can’t Have The Cake, And Eat It

, , , , , , | Right | September 28, 2017

(It is my little sister’s birthday. To celebrate, we have booked into a favourite restaurant in the city centre, where one of my university friends waits tables. As usual, I go in about two hours prior with a birthday cake, and ask the staff if they would mind bringing it out after we finish our food. I bake and decorate the cakes myself as a hobby, and I get carried away, so they’re usually quite extravagant. I’ve themed this one around Pitch Perfect, one of my sister’s favourite films.)

Other Customer: “Excuse me, [Waiter Friend]. Could you tell me where I can order one of those cakes?” *she points at our table*

Waiter: “I don’t know about that. [My Name] makes them herself, but we do parties often, and I can recommend some oth—”

Customer: “No! Don’t fob me off. I’ll ask them myself.”

(She gets up and walks over to our table.)

Customer: “Excuse me; I am sorry to interrupt your meal, but I was wondering if you could tell me where you ordered that cake? I need one identical for my daughter’s graduation.”

Me: “I made it myself, but I don’t do this as a business. I’m sorry. I believe [Waiter] has a list of approved affiliate bakeries they use for parties. Contact one of them?”

Customer: “NO! You’re as bad as [Waiter]. You’re just saying that so I stop disturbing you.”

Me: “I’m telling the truth, but you ARE disturbing me. It’s my sister’s birthday. We are trying to enjoy it, but you’re causing a scene.”

Customer: “Stop LYING. You just don’t want me to have a cake as nice as yours.”

Sister: “Look, lady. She makes cakes for all her family and friends! Here; I’ve got photos of her making other ones.”

(My sister pulls out her phone and flips through it to show pictures of the two of us fooling around in the kitchen, making cakes. The customer watches.)

Customer: “Okay, fine. Whatever. You make them? Good. You WILL make one of those for me; I’ll pay you a reasonable amount, if I’m satisfied with the work.”

Me: “Nope, I’m not in the business. Sorry.”

Customer: “Well, you should be! I need that cake. You do understand I’m offering to pay you, here?”

Me: “People like you are exactly why I’m not. I would like for you to leave us in peace now, if you don’t mind.”

Customer: “Well, I never! So rude! [Waiter], fire her!”

Waiter: “Ma’am, she is a customer. How can I fire her?”

Customer: “Kick her out and bar her. She is so unhelpful!”

Waiter: “She is a customer; she can be as ‘unhelpful’ towards you as she pleases if you’re going to harass her. I’m going to fetch you your bill. I don’t want gratuity, and I’m knocking 25% off before you even START to quibble on the price like you normally do. Please pay it and leave, before I call the police.”

(The lady opens her mouth with half a mind to give my friend a dressing down, but shuts her mouth, pays up, and leaves. I guess she knew eventually to admit defeat.)

Waiter: “Sorry about that, you guys!”

Me: “Don’t mention it. Here, put that lady’s 25% in the tip jar; I’ll cover it. Thanks for getting her out; I thought she was gonna punch me!”

(The owner ended up giving us the meal for free, so we put the entire meal cost into the tip pool. They said that the lady was also a regular, whom they disliked and were trying to get banned, but that she hadn’t been back since our “altercation.” I guess cake can solve almost anything!)

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