Their Brain Is 0.11 Karats

, , , | Right | June 12, 2017

(I work at a precious metals refinery. Like it sounds, we buy precious metals. I get a phone call from a customer who asks me what we will pay for a triple band ring. That being rather vague, I have to ask some follow-up questions:)

Me: “What karat of ring is it?”

Caller: “It’s, uh… I don’t know what karat it is.”

Me: “Okay, we can’t give you a quote without that information, but just as an estimate, if it was 14 karat it would be—”

Caller: “No, it’s not 14 karat. How much for a triple band ring?”

Me: “Again, I can’t give you a quote without knowing what type of metal it is, but if you brought it in, we’d be able to give you an accurate estimate.”

Caller: “Okay, thanks anyway.”

(Ten minutes later he calls back.)

Caller: “How much for a .11 karat ring?”

Me: “I’m afraid there’s no such thing as .11 karat.”

Caller: “But I need to know how much it would be.”

Me: “And I’m still going to need to know what gold karat it is.”

Caller: “It’s not gold.”

Me: “So it’s… silver?”

Caller: “Yeeaaahhh.”

Me: “Okay, well, an average silver band would weigh about 5 grams, which would give you about $4.00.”

Caller: “That doesn’t sound right. It’s not that small! It’s point 11 karats!”

Me: “Wait, you mean weight? As in, .11 carats?”

Caller: “Yeah.”

Me: “Okay, well, give me a minute.”

(I assume that he has a small jeweler’s scale and has weighed it in diamond weights — carats — because he couldn’t figure out how to change the scale to grams or pennyweights. Not being all that familiar with carats since we don’t do gemstones, I Google the conversion factor. I am sure that something has gone wrong, however, when I see the results of my search.)

Me: “Uh, sir, .11 carats turns out to be less than a thousandth of a gram.”

Caller: “Okay.”

Me: “You can’t have a ring that weighs less than a thousandth of a gram. It’s physically impossible.”

Caller: “That’s what he said.”

Me: “That would mean your ring weighed less than 1/2,000th of a penny.”

Caller: “I called the jeweler I bought it from and that’s what he said.”

Me: “Oh, the stone in your ring weighs .11 carats! Unfortunately, we don’t buy stones of any type. We’d only be able to buy the metal, and I’d need a weight on that to give you an accurate quote.”

Caller: “It’s point 11 carats!”

Me: “Again, that is for your stone. We cannot buy the stone from you. The metal itself has an entirely different weight. Did the jeweler tell you a weight for the metal?”

Caller: *getting really angry* “No. Look, don’t you have any point 11 carat rings around the shop that you could weigh up for me to see how much it would be?”

(I had absolutely no words for this. Apparently this man believes that every ring in the world with a certain stone size has the same weight. At this point, I decided to stop arguing with him.)

Me: “No. We don’t. You’ll just have to come in to get a quote on it.”

Caller: “Fine. Goodbye.”

(20 minutes later, I’m working on another order, so my boss answers the phone. A few minutes later I hear my boss say “Sir, .11 is not a karat.”)

Your Weekends Are At An End

| IN, USA | Working | March 2, 2017

(I recently changed departments at my job. My old supervisor is trying to convince me not to leave his crew. Most of the folks at my factory work seven-day workweeks, due to heavy demand and staffing issues.)

Manager: “But they work more than we do!”

Me: “There are only seven days in a week. They can’t work more than we do!”

They Spent Too Long In The Pit

| Corvallis, OR, USA | Working | November 1, 2016

(At my food cannery job, Saturdays are devoted entirely to cleaning the facility. This week I was one of the unfortunates assigned to clear out “The Pit”, an artificial pond that gradually fills with an unholy mixture of mud, pumpkin fragments, and matted vines. Besides rain gear, the only defense against the filth is defiant humor.)

Me: “On lunch break I should make a carnival sign for The Pit: ‘SEE the World’s Nastiest Chowder!’ And if anyone asks what the price of admission is, I’ll hand them a shovel and say ‘You help eat it.’”

Me: *to a coworker who cut his hand* “Dude, get a bandage. Go around in this s*** with an open wound and you’re gonna be Patient Zero.”

Me: *to a coworker who saw mud-spattered me on break and laughed* “Yes, laugh! Laugh at me! THAT’S HOW THE CURSE GETS PASSED ON!”

Me: *picking up a bit of mud and offering it to a coworker who’s watching us work* “Slimy popcorn?” *and a bit later…* “If you keep standing around and watching, we will make you eat the popcorn.”

Me: “We’re gonna find a zombie under this, you watch.”

Coworker: “What’s this hard stuff at the bottom?”

Me: “Legends say that beneath the deepest parts of the mud, there’s a substance even harder than plastic, called ‘concrete’…”

Me: *screaming at a passing coworker in clean clothes* “CLEAN IS AN ILLUUUSION! REPENT, SINNER, AND JOIN US IN EMBRACING THE TRUTH!”

Getting Pally With Those Nuts

| MI, USA | Working | July 3, 2016

(This is halfway through my second week at a factory making car door interiors. I had no experience with manufacturing before, and every line puts the pal nuts in different areas on the door.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, girl, you put the pal nut on the wrong place on those doors.”

Me: *turning red* “I’m so sorry.”

Coworker #2: “You mess that up again, we’re gonna have to put you through initiation.”

Me: “Uh… what’s that?”

Coworker #1: “You’re going to have to walk down the line, and we’re going to throw pal nuts at you!”

Coworker #2: “Watch out, I used to be a softball player. I can throw them real hard!”

(I started laughing so hard I could barely help fix the doors. They reassured me that this happened all the time, even to the most experienced of people. Made my day a lot easier!)

Your Technique Is Dated

| Norfolk, England, UK | Romantic | June 26, 2016

(I work in a factory. I have a male coworker who I get on with better than the others, but wouldn’t want to socialise with him outside of work. He approaches me during our shift.)

Coworker: “I think we should try dating.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “We should date.”

Me: “Err, sorry. You seem like a nice guy, but I’m not interested. No offence.”

Coworker: “You could at least try going on a date with me.”

Me: “No, thanks. I’m not interested.”

Coworker: “Why no?”

Me: “Does it matter? No. I don’t want to go on a date with you.”

(He continues to try and get me to go on a date with him, for another 30 minutes. I ignore it until:)

Coworker: “Are you a lesbian?”

Me: “No, I’m not. I’ve also changed my mind. You don’t seem like a nice guy at all. P*** off and leave me alone.”

(He is now my husband.)

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