Tis The Season To Be Disorganized

, , , , | Right | December 20, 2018

(I work in a small-town gift boutique, and it is the 20th of December, so there are a lot of stressed — and bratty — customers coming in and out of the shop. A customer comes to check out.)

Me: “Is that everything for you today? That’s [price]. Do you want a bag, or would you like me to wrap it in tissue for you?”

Customer: “Oh, could you wrap it in tissue, please? That would be amazing! Thank you!”

(I go to wrap some tissue around it and I see the customer tense. I prepare for the worst.)

Customer: “Oh, sorry, but is there a price ticket? Could you remove it before you wrap it, please?”

Me: *going to damage control* “That’s my mistake, sorry! I should have done that, anyway; I’ll just get that.”

Customer: “No, not at all. I wouldn’t usually ask; it’s just that I’m adding this to a package I’m on my way to post, since it’s last posting date today! I don’t fancy sitting in the middle of town battling a roll of wrapping paper, so I appreciate the favour!”

Me: “Oh! Is it last posting day today?”

Customer: “Well, last for second class. I don’t love anyone enough to fork out for first class.” *as they leave* “Thank you so much. Have a great day!”

(When my coworker came back from lunch a while later, she told us she’d seen someone sitting on a bench nearby, wrangling a roll of wrapping paper and a roll of packing tape. I don’t know if that customer ever got their parcel in the mail on time, but they were very chipper for someone so disorganised.)

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Nose Way!

, , , , | Related | August 30, 2018

(I’m helping my sister redecorate her room whilst she’s home from university for summer vacation. We’re in the middle of prep work, sanding down the woodwork and windows. It’s a loft room with Velux windows that open inwards. I’m downstairs making hot drinks for a tea break. I hear my sister come downstairs and turn to give her her tea, but her facial expression is disturbingly blank.)

Me: “What the heck happened to you?”

Sister: “I opened one of the windows to clean the frame with mould spray. A spring-loaded spider — one of the fat ones — got launched at me. It bounced right off my nose.”

(A pause.)

Sister: “So… now I have to go get the belt sander and sand off my face. There’s no other way.”

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