What A Crock

, , , | Right | April 21, 2019

(My family and I are on holiday visiting a craft village. We are currently in a kitchenware shop and I’m standing next to a “Le Creuset” crockery display distinguishable by its bright orange colour. I have a pram with a child inside and I’m holding my other child. I’m wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.)

Customer: “Excuse me. Do you know how much this set is?”

Me: “Erm, no, sorry. I don’t have a clue.”

Customer: “Do you not work here?”

Me: “No!”

Customer: “Oh, right, it’s just because your t-shirt is the same colour as the crockery.”

(This happened about five years ago and has confused me ever since.)

That Story Was In-Tents

, , , , , | Related | April 20, 2019

(When I am a kid, my family — parents, two brothers, and me — live in an apartment. One night, we have some family friends over. The adults are in the dining room laughing and talking while the kids are all in the bedroom goofing around. From the dining room, it is a straight shot back to the bedroom, so the door is opened and the adults can mostly see everything. We have a bunk bed that one of my brothers and I share and a toddler bed for our little brother. We also have those pop-up parachute-fabric tents that you can create mazes out of. My brother decides the best thing in the world would be to flip one of the tents on its roof and jump off the top bunk into it in his stocking feet. What the adults hear:)

Brother: “Watch this!”

(They hear the bed creak, followed by a thump as he hits the ground. Then, silence.)

Me: “Um, maybe you should go show that to Mom.”

(Mom, whose back is currently to the bedroom, glances at the family friend.)

Mom: “Do I want to know?”

(My brother went running down the hall to tell her all about it. He’d ended up smacking his face on the metal on our little brother’s toddler bed and given himself a bloody nose. All in all, not the worst injury he’s had. He probably wouldn’t have had as much issue if he hadn’t decided to jump into the tent with his socks still on.)

A Hurricane Of Stupidity

, , , , | Right | April 19, 2019

(A famous US retailer closed a number of its stores earlier this year, including the last one in our city. I take a temporary job there working the final clearance sales. This takes place during our final week, a few days after Hurricane Harvey hits Houston. Our city is hours north, in the next state, so the weather doesn’t affect us. A customer has two common questions.)

Me: “Hi. How may I help you?”

Customer: “When is [Store]’s last day?”

Me: “It’s [date], this coming Sunday.”

Customer: “Okay. What are you doing with the stuff that doesn’t sell?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I haven’t been told yet. I can get a manager if you like.”

(I don’t expect to be told since I am not involved in that aspect of the closure.)

Customer: “Oh… you know what should be done with it? Send it all down to Houston. The victims need the help; they can use all this.”

Me: *resists the urge to roll eyes and forces self to use a polite tone* “Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

(What was she thinking? The whole store is almost empty and 90% of what we have left isn’t merchandise; it’s movable racks and a couple of display tables, mostly empty. I moved from Florida, where serious hurricanes are a fact of life, and have been through them. Believe me, store fixtures aren’t what those poor people need.)

A Handy Comeback

, , , , | Right | April 19, 2019

(I work in a popular, fairly cheap bakery and food-on-the-go retailer in the UK. We have a range of sandwiches, including several we can heat, but those are packaged in obvious brown packaging. We can’t heat any other sandwiches because of the ingredients.)

Customer: *handing me a cheese salad sandwich* “Hey, can you toast this for me?”

Me: “No, sorry, sir. We can only toast the sandwiches in the brown wrappers.”

Customer: “You won’t toast this one?”

Me: “No, sorry. Did you still want it?”

Customer: *pauses* “How am I supposed to eat it, then?”

(This isn’t said aggressively, but rather as if he’s utterly confused about this conundrum.)

Me: “Most people eat them with their hands; I don’t know about you.”

(There was a moment of stunned silence, and then he paid and left. Thankfully, my manager thought it was absolutely hilarious and I didn’t get written up!)

Loves To Follow Orders – If They Have One

, , , , , | Right | April 19, 2019

(I do data entry for a company that supplies drug stores with their merchandise. The way our system works is that the customer will phone our office, get our answering machine, and leave a recorded message with their order. I will then play the message later and enter the order on my computer. I can count on the following happening at least once a week:)

Person On Recording: “Hi, [Company]. Here’s my order…” *gives order*

Me: “Oh, great. They didn’t give their name or their store, and the computer won’t let me start entering their order unless we know who it’s for.”

Person On Recording: *continues*

Me: “I hope this is a short order…”

Person On Recording: *keeps talking*

Me: “Maybe I can recognize their voice? …Nope.”

Person On Recording: *keeps talking*

Me: “Please, please, have them say who they are at the end of the message! I’ll have to rewind and listen to the whole thing again, but at least I’ll be able to enter it.”

Person On Recording: “…and that’s it. Thanks!” *hangs up*

Me: “Aw, crap.”

(We don’t have call display in these days, so I have no hope of knowing who the order is for. Then, the next day, this usually happens.)

Caller: “WHERE’S MY ORDER?!”

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