Careless The Care Comments

, , , , | Working | January 1, 2018

(I am working in a large UK retail shop as a Christmas temp. I have been called in by the warehouse manager at 7 am to help take the delivery in. Half way through, the shop floor manager demands that I stop taking delivery and move to the tills instead, even though I still have delivery to put away and I am covered in dust from the stockroom.)

SF Manager: “How are you finding the tills?”

Me: “I’m enjoying it, but I am concerned that I left a job half-finished upstairs and that it might affect the flow of stock if it is left unfinished.”

SF Manager: “Don’t you think I know what I’m doing as a manager?”

Me: “I didn’t mean anything like that. I just want to be sure that I’m not messing up.”

SF Manager: “THAT is not your concern.”

(Ironically, he cited people not caring enough about their duties as a main reason for not keeping any temps on after New Year.)

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The Solution Is As Clear As Glass

, , , | Healthy | December 29, 2017

(I need to get new spectacles, so I get assessed. During the sight test, the optometrist notices I have the start of macular degeneration in one eye, tells me it isn’t serious at the moment, but warns me to watch out for lines appearing wavy when they should be straight. She gives me a leaflet to put on my fridge door, so that I’ll look at it several times a day and be aware of the need to check. She also instructs me to come straight back for another test if anything changes. This all freaks me out a bit because I’ve never heard of macular degeneration, so I dutifully put the leaflet on my fridge door and inspect that thing every time I go in the fridge, for about a month. I start noticing the sight in my left eye is quite blurry. So, off I trot back to the optometrist. I explain everything to the receptionist, then the optometrist, a different one to my first visit. He sight-checks me then leaves the room for a few minutes. He comes back in and asks if I mind him checking again. I don’t mind, but by now I’m sweating and my imagination’s working overtime. He does the same tests and asks me to explain again what the problem is.)

Me: “Look. I cover up my right eye…” *demonstrates* “… and you’re blurry. I cover up my left eye instead…” *demonstrates* “… and you’re not blurry.”

Optometrist: “Well, Mrs [My Name], both sight tests we’ve conducted today show no changes to the other test we did recently.”

Me: “Seriously? But I’ve definitely got strange vision in my left eye? How is that, if the test results are the same? Look, doctor, if it’s psychosomatic, tell me. If you think I’m dreaming it up because I’m so worried about losing my sight and I need a psychiatrist, just tell me straight. I really can handle it.”

(By this time, I’m near tears. I don’t know whether I’m losing my sight or my marbles.)

Optometrist: “Show me again.”

(Demonstrates covering up the eyes, etc.)

Optometrist: “I… might be a bit off course here but… did we provide your glasses?”

Me: “Of course, yes.”

Optometrist: “It looks like the common denominator is your glasses. Let’s get them realigned and see.”

(Aaaand I felt a fool. Mind you, so should they, too. My ‘demonstrations’ of blurry vs normal sight were done wearing my specs. The sight tests had been done WITHOUT my specs. It turned out there was a minuscule adjustment needed for the left lens. He brought my specs back and the blurred vision was gone. At least I know I haven’t lost my marbles yet. Not about that, at least.)

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When Your Entitlement Gets You Shut Down

, , , , | Right | December 29, 2017

(It’s my last shift at a fast food restaurant before I leave and move to university. My shift ends at the same time we close, which is three minutes away. As it’s so late, I’m the only one serving the drive-through. The customer I’m currently serving has decided to change her order while at the window. Another car comes up to the speaker and I ask them to wait while muting my headphones. Once my current customer drives off, I turn it back on.)

Customer: “…and [Meal] with fries and large [Drink].”

Me: “I’m sorry; I was helping another customer. Could you please start over?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “It’s not my problem if you don’t care about your customers. I’m not repeating myself.”

Me: “Okay, I apologise for my lack of multitasking. Have a nice night.”

(I turn off the headphones and check the clock. My shift is now over, so I do a final clean up. While cleaning, I notice a car outside the window.)

Me: *opening the window* “Sorry, but we are now—”

Customer: “You lazy b****, take my order now!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you said you weren’t going to repeat yourself, so assumed you didn’t want to order now. As I said, we are now closed.” *closes the window while she screams at me*

(I go to collect my stuff from the break room, and come out while my manager speaks to the customer who is still at the window.)

Manager: “You don’t seem to be getting it. I can’t fire her.”

Customer: “WHY THE F*** NOT?!”

Manager: “Because she has literally just finished her last shift. She no longer works here.”

Customer: “Oh, well, can I order now?”

Manager: “No.” *closes the window*

(We both laughed while the customer continued to scream. I said goodbye to everyone and sprinted to my car in case the customer saw me. The morning after, I got a text message from the manager who also ended up opening. The customer came back and demanded I be fired. He again said that I wasn’t working there anymore, after which the customer demanded free food, because she was upset she didn’t get her way. Words were said, and he doesn’t think she’ll be coming back anytime soon.)

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I’m Dreaming Of A Wi-Fi Christmas

, , , , , | Related | December 26, 2017

(It’s not that I don’t like my brother-in-law; it’s just that I find him very difficult. Despite being in his 30s, he acts like a child; he is selfish and irritating, and he won’t make conversation unless it is about him or something he likes. My wife invites her sister and her husband around for Christmas, along with some more family. They turn up late, and he immediately makes himself comfortable, feet up on the sofa, and logs into our Wi-Fi.  After half an hour, he hasn’t spoken to anyone; he’s just been staring at his phone. I look at my wife who wordlessly motions me not to say anything. Then…)

Brother-In-Law: “What’s wrong with the Wi-Fi?”

Me: “Hmm?”

Brother-In-Law: “I can’t get on.”

Me: “Oh, really?” *my wife shoots me a dirty look*

Brother-In-Law: *whining* “I was just about to level up.”

Me: “Oh, it does that sometimes; it might come back on in a bit.”

(He finally put away his phone and actually joined in a conversation. But not before moaning about how much better his Internet speed was, and how we should sort it out. He actually tried to get his wife to leave, on Christmas Day, as he was getting bored. She told him to shut up and deal with it. Now, every time they come over, the Wi-Fi has the same mysterious problem. I don’t think he will ever work it out!)

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No Christmas Cards For You For 100 Years!

, , , , | Working | December 22, 2017

(We are having a training evening. As Christmas is approaching, there is naturally a lot of talk about it. For a bit of fun, one colleague has set a quiz: half the questions are about work and the other half about Christmas.)

Quizmaster: “And question ten: in the 1840s, which decade was… oh, d***, I’ve just given you the answer! Sorry!

(Everyone has a good laugh. The question was “In what decade was the first Christmas card sent?”)

Quizmaster: “At least everyone will get one point!”

(Later, when the answers are being read out:)

Quizmaster: “And question ten: if you get this wrong, you’re an idiot!” *everyone laughs* “In the 1940s…” *realises what he’s said, as does everyone else!* “…no, the 1840s! No points for me!”

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