Believe Me; Soon We’ll Be Able To Ship Stuff To Arrive Yesterday!

, , , , , | Right | June 26, 2019

(This is right after the 2016 elections:)

Customer: “I need to overnight this to [City in South Florida].”

Me: “All right, anything hazardous, liquid, toxic, or perishable?”

Customer: “It’s liquid.”

Me: “All right, what kind?”

Customer: “Why do you need to know?”

Me: “Because there are some liquids that can’t go overnight because they aren’t safe in the pressurized hold of an airplane.”

Customer: “This won’t go on an airplane. It’s only going four hours away.”

Me: “Actually, [City in south Florida] is outside the distribution area for [Local Terminal], so this item with be flown out tonight to [Central Hub] where it will be sorted with other packages meant for [Destination Terminal] and flown back in tonight.”

Customer: “That’s stupid! Trump is gonna fix that!”

Me: “Trump is going to change [Major Global Shipping Company]’s entire business model and stop them from using central distribution?”

Customer: “Yeah. It’s stupid.”

Me: *dead inside* “Okay. I still need to know what kind of liquid it is.”

(It was alcohol. We’re not licensed to ship alcohol. When he asked why, I wish I’d been smart enough to tell him that Trump hasn’t fixed us yet.)

1 Thumbs

A Sudden Switch In Their Understanding

, , , , , , | Right | June 26, 2019

I’m on a job to, among other things, repair a light over a client’s front door. The issue as described by the client is that it doesn’t always come on every time they flip the switch.

I talk to the property manager and he shows me the switch — in a bank of about eight others — that controls the light. I turn it on and off several times and cannot replicate the issue, but to be thorough, I open the fixture and inspect everything. I tell the property manager that it seems to be in proper working order, but I can replace the functional parts just to be certain. He agrees and I proceed.

When I’m finished, I show him that it’s working properly by again repeatedly turning it on and off. He agrees that it’s good to go.

The next day, when we return to finish the rest of the work, he approaches me again and says they’re still having the same issue. This time the client is home so I speak to her directly. I ask her to show me what happens when she turns it on.

She proceeds to flip every single one of the aforementioned eight switches before coming to the one that actually controls the light, and then she says, “See? It doesn’t work.”

Containing my laughter, I show her that it’s only tied to the one switch and repeat the process of turning it on and off, showing her that it’s functioning normally.

The client says, “Oh, well, now it works!”

1 Thumbs

Ride-Share Scare

, , , , | Right | June 26, 2019

(I work part-time for a ride-sharing company. I get a call to pick up a woman in an area I am unfamiliar with. It takes me an extra few minutes to find the location as the GPS is unclear; however, I eventually find the location: a movie theater with a roundabout in front of it. The area is filled with people and cars and I don’t see anyone who looks like a potential rider, so I pull off to the side of the road to call the customer.)

Me: “Hello, this is your driver and I’m trying to find you. Are you in front of the movie theater?”

Customer: “How can you not see me? I’m wearing a red jacket.”

(I look around for a female with a red jacket and see no one.)

Me: “I don’t see anyone matching that description.”

(I describe my car to her and she said she sees me but I still cannot see her. At this moment, a traffic cop indicates to me that I cannot stay where I am and that I have to proceed around the roundabout.)

Me: “Ma’am, the traffic cop is telling me to go around the circle, so just wait for me on the other side.”

(I hang up with her and start to go around the circle. Due to congestion, the traffic is slow around the circle. I see a woman and two kids eyeing me. Note that this woman is NOT wearing a red jacket or anything else red, but I see that she is watching me so I figure this is most likely the rider. I exit the roundabout and pull over to the side of the road. The woman opens my door.)

Customer: “You just pulled away when I tried to get into your car!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you try to get in. Besides, I had to get out of the roundabout so I wouldn’t block traffic.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t feel safe, so I’m going to call someone else!” *slams door*

Me: *thinking* “You shouldn’t feel safe approaching a moving vehicle in the middle of an intersection!”

(I cancelled the ride, but unfortunately, because I indicated that the “rider cancelled” instead of waiting for her to cancel it herself, I didn’t get paid. A lesson for next time, though.)

1 Thumbs

Managed To Waste A Whole Day

, , , , , | Working | June 25, 2019

(Every morning where I work, there is a store meeting that, very simply put, is a waste of time. At the end of the meeting, we then have to clap along to a chant or cheer. Normally, the meeting will last 10 or 15 minutes, but not this time. Everyone is called to the back and we stand waiting and waiting, with the only management in sight being the department managers, who realistically are barely above your average stockers. Eventually, the deli and bakery workers all leave, each saying something along the lines of:)

Deli: “I got to go! I got s*** that has to be done before lunch or I get written up!”

(Although none of the rest of us have anything as time sensitive as them, the sentiment is unanimous. Finally, after more than thirty minutes, the store manager bursts out of the office:)

Store Manager: “The District Manager is coming today! Everybody go into zone defense now! Department Managers hang back for a minute.”

(With that, a coworker and I, both from the canned and dry grocery department, head back and begin zone defense, which is basically just tidying everything up, pulling stock to the front of the shelves, making sure no trash is on the floor, etc. We’ve been at it for a few minutes when our Department Manager — who is actually a pretty good guy — comes up holding a few sheets of paper. He does not look happy as he hands them to me. I start looking them over as he’s talking to us.)

Department Manager: “Don’t worry about that; I’ll do it. The District Manager wants a display built on the front aisle. Take everyth—”

(At about this time, I flip to the second page and see the dimensions of the display.)

Me: “This is huge!”

Department Manager: “I know.”

Me: “This’ll probably take two hours to build!”

Department Manager: “I know.”

(Although it is indeed very large, something like 50 feet long, the design is simple: a two-tiered shelf running parallel to the cash registers. The merchandise itself is just canned goods. Customers can pass by without trouble, and maybe pick up a can of beans if they forgot them or don’t want to walk that far back.)

Department Manager: “Take everything we have of these from the back and everything on the floor, too. Leave just enough to front the shelves.”

Me: “That still won’t be enough to fill the display.”

Department Manager: “I know. For now, take some whole cases of [other type of canned goods] and put them underneath to fill it out more. We’ll switch it out when we get more stock in… which I’m going to go order right now. Get it done so we can get back to actually working.”

(So, we do. Fast forward a bit more than an hour and a half when my coworker and I are around 75% finished building the display. Suddenly, my coworker lets out an exasperated sigh. I can tell he’s trying to be quiet about it, so I stop to stretch and turn side to side to see what’s bothered him. Enter the true antagonist of the story, the assistant manager who oversees all the food-related departments in the store and is directly above our department manager. I won’t go into all the details about just why he’s a horrible manager. But just like those meetings, he is absolutely useless. He’s standing about 15 feet away from us, just looking at us, and it almost seems like he is posing, trying to look tough and thoughtful at the same time. His left arm is across his chest grabbing his right side, his right hand is cupping his chin, right arm draped across the left while hunched over towards his right. Imagine your overly stereotypical gangsta rapper pose combined with Rodin’s “The Thinker.” My coworker and I both know our day is about to get worse as he starts to walk towards us.)

Assistant Manager: “Fellas… fellas… Yeah, I don’t like this.”

(We stop completely and turn to him. He actually grabs the plans for the display that were sent by the District Manager, ignores what’s printed there, and flips to a blank back page.)

Assistant Manager: “It’s too simple. Here’s what you’re gonna do…”

(He proceeds to draw what’s basically an upside down, upper-case V laid over an upper-case T, or the lower half of an asterisk with a strikethrough applied. Unlike what the original plans called for, this design does NOT let customers pass by easily, as it would almost completely cover the entire width of the front aisle and severely restrict the flow of foot traffic. We stand there for a moment looking at his epic “plan.” I take the papers and flip them back to the front.)

Me: “But the plans for this—”

Assistant Manager: “No! Do what I say, the way I said to do it!”

(He grabs the papers back from me and flips them back to his drawing, turns, and walks away. My coworker and I stand there, dumbfounded, for a minute.)

Coworker: “S***!”

Me: “You think we should go to [Store Manager] about this?”

Coworker: “H*** no! You know how [Assistant Manager] gets if you go over his head!”

(And he’s right. This guy will make your life a living Hell if you challenge any decision he makes in any way. So, we do exactly what he said. We break down our nearly completed display and start rebuilding it. This also requires us to go find extra materials to fit into the display because shelving materials all made of right angles don’t fit together properly when you jam them together at a 45° angle. Fast forward about another hour when our department manager comes to find us.)

Department Manager: “What’s taking y’all so—” *gets a good look at the display* “What the h*** are y’all doing?!”

(My coworker stops, turns to look him square in the face and simply says:)

Coworker:  “[Assistant Manager].”

(A confused expression passes over the department manager’s face for just a moment, immediately followed by realization, understanding, rage, and finally defeat. He simply turns and we hear him mutter, “God d*** it…” as he starts walking back to our department. A while later, even some of the cashiers notice how much the display is interfering with foot traffic and ask us why we are building it that way. A reply of, “[Assistant Manager],” is met with, “Oh, Lord,” and them leaving the area as fast as they can. Fast forward almost another hour and the district manager finally arrives with his entourage. All the store’s management staff head to the front where they talk for just a few minutes and then immediately head our way. I grab a few cases of canned goods and take them to a part of the display that allows me to keep working while watching everything unfold. They stay far enough away that we can’t really hear anything they’re saying, but the district manager does have a slightly confused look on his face as he sees the display. Our assistant manager has now sidled up to him at the front of the group while once again in his gangsta/thinker pose with a VERY smug look on his face. You can tell he’s just waiting to pounce and say something like, “Yeah, you like that display? I told them to do it that way!” But his chance to pounce never comes. Like our department manager, a series of emotions play across his face, but oh, how different they are. The smugness melts into a sort of confused happiness, his eyes get bigger as realization sets in, and raw fear and embarrassment are now plastered on his face. The district manager hasn’t even looked at him once the whole time, and the assistant manager begins to slide away, moves behind the entire group of managers, and actually hunches down to hide behind them. They all stand there a few more minutes before moving off. Our department manager comes over to us in a mixture of frustration and laughter.)

Department Manager: “Y’all go to lunch. When you get back, break this down — again — and rebuild — again — it the way you were the first time. Maybe we’ll actually get something done tomorrow.”

(All told, out of eight hours of work, we spent over thirty minutes waiting on a meeting that never happened, and about six hours building one single display. Oh, and remember that the department manager ordered extra stock to fill out the display? So did the assistant manager and store manager, but neither of them checked if anyone else had already done so. We ended up with an entire extra 18-wheeler full of nothing but canned goods for that display; 26 pallets’ worth.)

1 Thumbs

He Was Always The Most Stupid Lannister

, , , , | Right | June 25, 2019

Customer: “I got this the other day and they told me that I need to come back today to return this.”

Me: “Right. So, what are you returning, again?”

Customer: “I returned the phone already.”

Me: “Pardon, but I don’t think I’m understanding what you need.”

Customer: “The case! I need to return the case.”

Me: “All right. Do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Okay, what’s the phone number associated with the account?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Me: “All right. What’s the name associated with the account?”

Customer: “My name.”

Me: “So, what’s that?”

Customer: “[Name pronounced Jay-Mee] [Last Name].”

Me: “Mind spelling your first name, please?”

Customer: “J-I-A-M-E.”

Me: “Sorry, that’s not coming up.”

Customer: “J-A-M-E.”

Me: “What? Can I just see your ID?”

(The customer handed me their ID, which clearly stated “J-A-I-M-E.” I’ll never get those brain cells back. How is it that people cannot spell their own names?)

1 Thumbs