Might Need Two Bags For The Number Two

, , , | | Working | May 17, 2018

(I work at a very popular girls’ clothing store. We sell large emoji pillows. A customer comes in and buys one large happy emoji, and one large poop emoji. We have bags large enough to hold them. After putting the happy emoji in a bag, I find myself saying this gem:)

Me: “Hmm. I don’t think I can squish the poop in this bag, too.”

Unfiltered Story #110924

, , , | Unfiltered | May 17, 2018

(My wife and I are at the concessions stand of a movie theater. They have two sizes of bottled water, and one size in different brand which we’ll call “Clever Water.”)

Wife: “…and a water for me.”

Cashier: “Small, large, or Clever?”

Wife: “Clever? Oh wait, I see. How big is a large?”

Cashier: “They’re over there.”

Wife: “Oh, that’s huge. I’ll just have a regular.”

Me: Sweetie, she offered small, large, and Clever, and you asked for a regular. Are you trying to end up on Not Always Right?”

Rat Chance At Redemption

, , , , , , , | Working | May 16, 2018

(I work in a big-box pet store in the pet care department, meaning I do customer service for people interested in buying the fish, reptiles, birds, and small mammals we sell, and I also take care of those animals. I love all animals, and it’s well-known among my coworkers and managers. I particularly enjoy taking care of the rats. Unfortunately, our suppliers keep and ship them in dreadful conditions, and some animals don’t do too well, obviously. Even more unfortunately, one of our new managers has taken it upon herself to micromanage the animal care, but has no experience in this area. She therefore makes mistakes like not turning away shipments of animals that have skin conditions or other serious health issues. Then, she has the nerve to blame employees for not curing them. She particularly hates me for some reason, even though we both adore rats. One new shipment has a rat that is particularly aggressive. Even after acclimating it, it snarls and tries to bite any human who approaches it. I try to steer clear of it because [Manager] insists that it’s just temperamental and won’t send it back or isolate it. One morning, I open the cage to give the rats food, and the evil rat RUSHES at the door, LEAPS out, and bites my finger hard. I wince as I scoop the rat back up with my non-bleeding hand and put it back in the cage, then go to get cleaned up. My finger is completely sliced open. Of course, the first aid kit is in the manager’s office.)

Manager: *immediately chewing me out* “What were you doing to the rat that it did that to you?”

Me: “I just opened the cage, and it rushed toward me before I could react.”

Manager: “Nonsense. Rats are sweet creatures. You did something wrong. That’s it. I don’t want you near the rats anymore. You’re forbidden from interacting with them.”

(I’m offended, and still bleeding, but gently remind her that I am the only person working in the department that morning and still need to give the rats fresh water and potentially show one to a customer.)

Manager: “They’ll be fine without fresh water until [Coworker] comes in. If a customer wants to buy a rat, come get me.”

(Sighing, I went back to work while nursing my finger. An hour or so later, a family came in, and guess what they wanted to buy? I alerted the manager and accompanied them to the rat cages. [Manager] was going on and on about how gentle and sweet rats are and what great pets they are for children. She opened the cage to retrieve an adorable gray one for the customer to pet; of course, it was the evil rat, who did not take kindly to the family’s cooing and promptly chomped down on [Manager]’s finger. She gasped, turned to look at me, and turned red with fury. The family decided a rat was not a good pet for them. [Manager] was eventually transferred to another store, although she never bothered me again for the remainder of her time at our store.)

Not So Mellow Yellow

, , , , , , | Working | May 15, 2018

(My department cooks our own rotisserie turkeys, which we then chill down and slice for customers. Usually, we only have plain ones, but recently we’ve gotten some new lemon pepper seasoning so we can have a new flavor of turkeys. After my first time slicing one, I notice that the slicer, and my gloves, have turned bright yellow.)

Me: “Ugh, look at this s***! There’s yellow all over everything!”

Coworker: “It looks like you just murdered Homer Simpson, dude.”

It’s Wingardium Levio-saah!

, , , , , , | Hopeless | May 14, 2018

(I’m 31, going to the Harry Potter amusement park in Florida. My brother and I buy the special wands where you can do “magic” in certain parts of the park. We notice in the newer Diagon Alley you can do it pretty easily, but in the older Hogsmeade, it’s a lot harder, maybe because of dirty windows or bad placement of the sensors. I stumble on a girl who is maybe ten, and her dad. The girl is almost in tears because she can’t get the special wand she got to work.)

Me: *running up to the girl* “If it’s okay with you and your daddy, can I teach you some things I learned? I know it’s hard. I’ve been here all day, but I’ve learned a few tricks.”

Girl’s Dad: “It’s okay.”

Girl: “Okay.”

Me: “Okay. Stand right here. See what it’s telling you on that little medallion? Copy the motions.”

(She tries a couple times and it’s still not working; she’s getting frustrated.)

Me: “No, no, it’s okay. You just need to think really hard, and it’s all in the wrists!”

(I say this really loud and start looking around at other people who may have wands.)

Me: “Keep at it! Focus!”

(At this point, an army of wand-wielding people has gathered right behind us, out of her line of vision, trying to get the sensor to work. It finally works. I give them the thumbs up, then give them a signal to disperse so the girl won’t realize it might not have been her. They all walk away, practically doing casual, “Oh, look at that detail in the village,” looks. The girl runs up to her dad.)

Girl: “I did it! I did it! Did you see it?!”

Me: “See? You are a witch! I knew it! Great job!”

Dad: *to me* “You are awesome!”

Me: “Oh, I didn’t do anything. She did! By the way? What house?”

Girl: “Gryffindor!”

Me: “Slytherin. Guess we aren’t all bad, huh? See you, sweetie!”

(I will never let a kid lose their imagination, even if I have to build an army on the quick to keep it running.)

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