Some People Are Jerks And That’s Final

, , , , , | | Right | May 16, 2019

(I used to work for an electricity company’s call centre. I now work in an office, and I overhear this conversation. My coworker is not the nicest or brightest person in the world.)

Coworker: “I have a bill here that says, ‘final bill.’ I need to know if this bill is a final bill. No, I won’t tell you my account number! Tell me if it’s a final bill! I don’t care if you can’t see the account!”

(This goes on for a few minutes until she’s speaking in an utterly condescending tone.)

Coworker: “I know it says, ‘final bill,’ on it. I need to know if that means it’s a final bill. Derrrr!”

(The poor soul on the other end finally convinces her that yes, “final bill” means, “final bill.”)

Coworker: *muttering to herself* “How stupid are some people? How hard is it to tell me if a final bill is a final bill? That’s all I needed to know! Morons!”

(I’m so thankful I don’t work in an electricity call centre anymore. This, unfortunately, is a typical call.)

He’s Got Beef With Your Turkey

, , , | | Right | May 15, 2019

(I work in a sandwich shop.)

Me: “Hello! What can I get for you today”?

Customer: “Give me beef.”

Me: “Certainly, we have steak and cheese, big beef melt, or just plain roast beef.”

Customer: “Just give me beef.”

Me: “What bread would you like?”

(The customer points at a picture of the bread on the sandwich unit.)

Me: “And is that a six-inch or a footlong?”

Customer: “BEEF!”

(Getting nowhere, I proceed to make the sandwich with just plain bread and plain beef.)

Customer: “That’s not what I want. I want the beef.”

Me: “This is beef.”

Customer: “No, this one.”

(The customer points to the turkey.)

Me: “This one here?” *points to the turkey* “This is turkey.”

Customer: “That’s what I asked for. Give me that.”

Spend €8 For A Priceless Moment

, , , , , | | Friendly | May 15, 2019

(I have a friend who loves designer handbags. Still, she would never buy such frivolous nonsense for herself, as she expects to be given expensive things by men. She once joined my husband and me on a holiday, which she mostly spent window shopping at every bag shop she encountered, wasting a lot of precious sightseeing time educating us on all her material wishes. A year after the catastrophic trip, my husband and I are abroad again. One day, he brings back a cheap, used counterfeit handbag from a flea market, proud to be the first man to ever buy my friend a bag of her favourite brand. We decide to have some fun, so I message her.)

Me: “[Husband] has bought a handbag for another woman today! Should I be worried?”

Friend: “Which handbag?”

Me: “Who cares?! Tell me your opinion; do you think it’s troublesome that he buys stuff for someone else than me?”

Friend: “Depends on the handbag.”

Me: “It is brown and quite ugly, and it smells strange. So, tell me, what is that bag saying about the state of our marriage?”

Friend: “Send a photo; I cannot judge the situation without seeing it first.”

(We pose for a selfie: my husband grinning and slapping his forehead, me with an overly dramatic, panicked expression.)

Friend: “Not of you! I need to see the handbag!”

(I send a badly-lit photo of the handbag in its plastic bag.)

Friend: “Take it out! It could be a [Brand Bag]!”

(I write a price tag, formerly 1600 Euro, now only 799, and place it on the unobscured handbag.)

Me: “Happy? Can we discuss the actual matter now?”

Friend: “It’s a [Brand Bag]! It’s the [Model]! Steal it from him!”

Me: “Really?”

Friend: “It’s sooo beautiful! He should have consulted me, though; usually it’s just 550 Euro.”

Me: “He must have thought that the woman is worth more.”

Friend: “She is really lucky! You should take it from him; then he can’t give it to her!”

Me: “What if [Husband] just buys another one? It wouldn’t solve any of my problems! Besides, it’s ugly and I don’t need a bag.”

Friend: “How can you say that?! I have always wanted this exact bag! It deserves to be loved and worshipped!”

Me: “So, do you want to know anything about the woman? I’m still waiting for your advice!”

Friend: “Sure.”

Me: “She has a strange desire for expensive things and can sometimes be incredibly slow. Who does this sound like?”

Friend: “Forget the other woman. You have to steal the bag from him immediately! And then you give it to me!”

Me: “How am I supposed to do that?”

Friend: “You wait until he is asleep, and then hide the bag. I’m going to meet you at the airport and make it disappear. What is he doing right now?”

Me: “He has been shaking his head since we started texting, and just muttered something about live reality TV and an exceptionally stupid person. Any ideas what that could mean?”

Friend: “See, he doesn’t even care about how you feel right now! Another sign that the bag should be mine!”

(The next morning:)

Me: “So, have you figured out who the materialistic woman the handbag is for could be?”

Friend: “No, but you are going to steal it for me today!”

(A couple of days later, we are back home and I meet my friend.)

Me: *handing her the wrapped bag* “Here, I stole the ugly thing for you.”

Friend: “Wow, really? I didn’t think you would actually dare to do that! Wonderful! Did [Husband] notice?”

Me: “Sure.”

Friend: “What did he say?!”

Me: “After he bought it, ‘I have got the perfect gift for [Friend]!’, and this morning, ‘How can [Friend] be so ignorant?’.”

Friend: “It was for me?! I’m so happy– Hey, wait, no! This bag is fake!”

(I’m not sure if that or the whole prank bothered her more. To this day, she has been waiting for a millionaire to magically appear and reward her with a luxurious life. My husband still refers to the incident as the best 8 Euro ever spent on entertainment. I now know who to never consult when I have relationship problems.)

This Is Why We Need Black History Month

, , , , | | Right | May 15, 2019

(I work in a restaurant at a golf club. We have a few servers that came from Africa to work for us. As I walk by a table of patrons, I hear an intoxicated member talking loudly.)

Member: “I thought all black people came from America.”

Sisters Sandwiched Together

, , , , | | Right | May 15, 2019

(My sister and I go to junior high fairly near our mother’s place of work, so she will sometimes drive us in and take us to the food court in her building to buy us lunch at the sandwich shop there. My sister and I have very similar tastes and always know what we want. One day when we go in, the one employee on the sandwich line that morning is looking rather haggard while trying to sort out what the customer ahead of us wants.)

Customer: “What’s on the ham sandwich?”

Employee: “Ham, sir.”

Customer: “Yes, but what else? No butter or veggies or anything?”

Employee: “You can choose any of the veggies in the display here to put on it. We can also add butter, mustard, and mayo if you like.”

Customer: “No, I don’t like mayo. What’s on the tuna salad sandwich?”

Employee: “Tuna salad, sir.”

Customer: “Does it have mayo, too?”

Employee: *sighing* “Only if you want it to, sir.”

(This continues for several minutes until the man finally manages to place an order. He takes his food over to the cashier, and the sandwich lady, who is familiar with us by this point, smiles as we approach the counter.)

Employee: “What sandwich would you like today, girls?”

Me/Sister: *in unison* “Egg salad, please.”

Employee: “White or brown?”

Me/Sister: *unison* “White, please.”

Employee: *laying out bread for both sandwiches* “Butter, mustard, mayo?”

Me/Sister: *unison* “Butter and mayo, please.”

(The customer at the till, who had been rummaging through his wallet for change, has stopped to watch this exchange.)

Customer: “Oh, now, that’s just showing off!”

Page 2/51912345...Last