Adventure To The Warehouse Of Infinity

, , , , , | Right | July 14, 2018

(I’m the weekend and night manager of a small university bookstore. I typically run the register, since the work-studies usually are in and out all day. I don’t mind it except when I get the bizarre customers.)

Customer: *holds a sweatshirt* “Do you have this in a medium?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we are all out of that size.”

(I know for a fact that all we have of that particular sweatshirt are out on the floor.)

Customer: “Do you have it online?”

Me: “We do have an online store, but everything we sell online we simply pull from the stock we have here, so if we don’t have it here, we don’t have it online, either.”

Customer: “But I can order it online?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we are out of that size.”

Customer: “But you just said you have an online store?”

Me: “Yes, but we pull from the same stock. If we are sold out here, then we are sold online.”

Customer: “But if I go to [National Chain], and they don’t have it in the store, they can order it.”

Me: “That is a national chain; they have warehouses of stock. We are a small bookstore; we don’t have that.”

Customer: “But you have it online. You have to have a warehouse of stock.”

Me: “Ma’am. We are a small bookstore. All of our stock is in the back room. We don’t have a warehouse. If we are sold out of something here, then we are sold out everywhere.”

Customer: “Oh… So, there isn’t a warehouse?”

Me: “No.”

(Thank God she finally seemed to get the message that we don’t have piles of stock in some warehouse somewhere that we pull orders from. Sadly, I wish this was an unusual circumstance, but as most folks in retail know, the customers insist the stockroom is a magical place where every size and color of the rainbow is hidden.)

The Easter Bunny And St. Valentine Attended Jesus’ Birth

, , , , , , | Right | May 11, 2018

(At my work, if product comes in, it goes straight to the floor; no holding or back stock is allowed. In the beginning of December, we start to receive Easter product. I am putting it out in our holiday section, right by Christmas, when a man approaches me. He seems agitated, stops a few inches from me, and faces me with his arms tightly crossed. I stay polite as I respond to him.)

Customer: “I can’t believe you are putting up Easter stuff.”

Me: “Well, it’s my job, not my choice. They send it, and I have to put it out; I have no warehouse or backroom to keep it in.”

Customer: “He isn’t even born yet and you are already killing him!”

(Apparently, by doing my job and setting product on a shelf, I personally killed Jesus before he was born.)

That Pretty Much Covers It

, , , , | Healthy | February 24, 2018

(My mother is in her sixties, and while not incredibly vain, she can’t help but be a little interested in various plastic surgical procedures. Since she has gotten to know a plastic surgeon through the ballroom dance club she helps run with my dad, she goes to his office one day for a consultation. I happen to call her the afternoon after her appointment. Also note that my three siblings and I were all born via medically necessary C-sections, and my mom is ten years in remission for a mild form of lymphoma.)

Me: “So, how did it go?”

Mother: “It was fine. But I have to tell you, I don’t think this is for me.”

Me: “Oh? What makes you say that?”

Mother: “Probably the fact that I’m not in the mood to have a more extensive medical procedure just to look pretty than I did to beat cancer or have four children!”

(I have no problem with anyone who chooses to have plastic surgery — it’s your body, after all — but I couldn’t fault my mom’s rationale, and it did make me laugh. Just one of the many reasons I love this lady so much!)

Not An Exercise In Futility

, , , , , , , | Related | February 16, 2018

(One spring, my ten-year-old brother starts campaigning for a puppy. My parents tell him, “We’ll see,” until summer vacation, at which point they show him a large chart.)

Brother: “What’s this?”

Mom: “This is your puppy earning chart. If you want that dog, you’re going to earn him.”

Brother: “Like, with my allowance?”

Dad: “No, with work. Dogs are a lot of work, and we’re not getting one until you prove to us that you will take care of him. We’ll help, of course, but you want the dog, so you have to do the work.”

Mom: “This chart has two parts. One for exercise, and one for chores. Every day this summer that you go out and walk around the neighborhood, at least a mile, you get an exercise check. And every day that you do your chores without us having to nag you, you get a chore check.”

Brother: “Because… dogs need walking! And feeding, and playtime, and stuff!”

Dad: “Exactly. So, if you get both checks on fifty or more days this summer, you’ve proved yourself, and you get what you want. Deal?”

Brother: “Deal!”

(“Treasure” the golden retriever came home with my brother the following fall.)

Not Sure We Beer-lieve You

, , , , , , , | Related | February 11, 2018

(I’m a preteen in this story. My friend and I are sitting in the basement chatting when my four-year-old brother comes tearing through at top speed.)

Me: “Hey, [Brother]. Where are you going so fast?”

Brother: “I’m getting a beer for Mommy! She needs it right away!”

(My friend stares at me, wide-eyed.)

Me: “She’s making dinner, I swear.”

Friend: “Okay, if you say so.”

(Fortunately, my friend stuck around for dinner, and greatly enjoyed my mom’s signature beer-braised chicken with barley and vegetables!)

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