Runner Needs To Stop Running And Think

, , , , | Working | December 1, 2017

(I work at a family resort on the weekends as front desk lead. This happens to me starting at around 8:00 pm.)

Me: “Hello, we need a pack-and-play for room 547.”

Runner: “Okay, okay, one second.” *waits five seconds* “What did they want?”

Me: “A pack-and-play.”

Runner: “What’s that? Oh, a crib. Okay, and what room number?”

Me: “547.”

Runner: “All right, a crib to 457.”

Me: “No, it’s 547.”

Runner: “457?”

Me: “FIVE, FOUR, SEVEN.”

Runner: “Okay. I got it now.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(One hour later:)

Room 457: “Hello. Someone delivered this crib and we don’t need it.”

Coworker: “Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll let our runner know.” *calls runner* “Hello, 457 called and said they were delivered a rollaway and never ordered one.”

(I’m walking by as this happens, and I’m completely dumbstruck that he STILL delivered the item to 457.)

Runner: “Oh? They don’t want it anymore?”

Me: “He was supposed to deliver it to 547.”

Coworker: “It needs to go to 547. Okay, bye.”

(By this time, 547 has called to complain that their baby wants to sleep and their pack-and-play did not show up. A half hour later, they call back and we call the runner again.)

Runner: *calling from room 557* “Say, what room was that pack-and-thingy supposed to go to?”

Me: *dying inside* “FIVE… FOUR… SEVEN.”

Runner: “Okay.”

(I didn’t receive any more calls after that, so I assume they got it that time.)

Their Training Must Have Been Comped

, , , , | Working | December 1, 2017

(We have patronized a particular drive-in restaurant in our hometown for some time. The food is good, but the servers aren’t always the most knowledgeable. On a previous visit, the server forgot some side ingredients for my wife’s taco salad, so they wrote in their book that we were to receive a free one on our next visit. At our next visit:)

Server: *bringing our food to our car* “Okay, your total is [total].”

Me: “And that’s with the taco salad comped, correct?”

Server: *looking at receipt* “Yes!”

(I pay and receive the food and receipt. She leaves, and only then do I notice that we’ve paid for the taco salad. I go back in the restaurant and find the server.)

Me: “I thought you said the taco salad had been comped?”

Server: “It was! See, it’s listed right there on the receipt!” *pointing to the line where the item was listed at its regular price*

Me: “No, it’s supposed to be no charge.”

Server: “Oh… is that what ‘comped’ means? I thought you were asking if you’d ordered it!”

In A Vicious (Motor)Cycle

, , , | Friendly | December 1, 2017

(I go to university with a girl who seems book-smart, but not at all street-smart. This is what happens one early September. I’m walking up the street when I hear her call my name. I turn and look to see her in her driveway with her boyfriend, a motorcycle in between them. I walk over to say hi, in awe of the motorcycle I have never seen them with before.)

Me: “Wow, nice motorcycle! Is it your roommate’s?”

Friend: “No, it’s mine! I just bought it!”

Me: *shocked* “Oh!”

Friend: “Yep, I couldn’t afford a car, so I got a motorcycle.”

(We go to school in a place that is known for its large amount of snow in the winter time. Driving a motorcycle in snow is difficult and dangerous, so it seems unlikely she’ll be able to use it much.)

Me: “Oh, wow! I had no idea you had your motorcycle license.”

Friend: “I don’t; I am going to practice and then get it.”

Me: “Does… Does [Boyfriend] know how to drive a motorcycle?”

Friend: “No; we’re going to learn together.”

Me: “…?”

(I run into her again not even a week later.)

Me: “Hey, [Friend], how’s the motorcycle?”

Friend: “Oh, that didn’t work out. I’m selling it.”

Me: “Oh, really?”

Friend: “Yeah, I had a scary moment with it and I can’t get myself to try again.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Friend: “Yeah, but the good news is that the guy who sold it to me on [Website] sold it for less than it is actually worth, so I’m going to sell it for more than that and make a profit.”

Me: “Okay, then, good luck.”

(No word yet on how her theory worked out.)

A Successful Store Drives In Traffic

, , , , | Right | December 1, 2017

(I am working the late shift at the store, my manager is in the office, and there are no customers in the store. The automatic doors open. I look over and A CAR has driven up on the sidewalk far enough for the doors to open, so I walk outside where the customer has backed his car up. They see me and roll down the window.)

Customer: “Are you guys open?”

Me: *staring wide eyed at the customer* “Yes, and what were you doing?”

Customer: “Oh, I was just trying to read the store hours.”

(Our store hours are not posted on the windows; they are on big letters below our store name!)

Me: “Well, next time, get out of your car and walk up here, instead of scaring people half to death!”

Rock Beats Scissors, Lightning Beats Waiver

, , , , , | Right | December 1, 2017

(I work in the northern New Mexico mountains, where storms are known to come in in the blink of an eye. I work as a guide on a ropes course, which has lots of metal cables attaching the various obstacles to each other, as well as attaching the guests to the course to keep them from falling 60 feet to the ground. If there is lightning in the area, we have to get down off the course for a certain period of time, because as most people know, metal + humans + lightning = bad. We have just gotten back on the course after a lightning hold when another strike is spotted. Understandably, people are upset, but most comply because they’d rather not be barbecued. Until…)

Guest: “Why do we have to get down?”

Me: “There’s lightning in the area, and we need to ensure that guests and staff aren’t struck by it while on the course.”

Guest: “But I signed a waiver! That means I don’t care if I get hurt if lightning hits the course!”

Me: “Ma’am, we are legally required to get down off the course in this situation. There’s too much at risk, otherwise.”

Guest: “But I signed a waiver!”

Me: “Well… I’m sorry, but lightning incinerates the waiver.”

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