This Story Will Haunt You Forever

, , , , | Related | June 6, 2017

(One year while my husband’s younger brother (who is a big guy in his 30s) is down visiting us in Florida, he expresses an interest in going to the Halloween event at a big theme park. Leading up to it, he jeers and laughs and rolls his eyes at how corny all the advertising is, and brags about how he’s not scared of anything. We all get along very well and like to joke with and tease one another in a friendly way. I can’t help but notice as we walk up to the first haunted house of the event that he seems a little less braggy that evening. He’s right behind me in line, and, sure enough, he has my shoulders in a death-grip the entire time. This repeats through every house for the night. He never makes a sound, but I can feel him flinching and jumping, even though whenever we come out of a house, he rolls his eyes and laughs at it. The next day, we’re at the hotel bar on resort property and he’s flirting with a woman who seems pretty into him.)

Woman: “So did you go to the Halloween event last night?”

Brother-In-Law: “Yeah. It was fun, but it wasn’t even scary.”

Husband: “You seemed pretty freaked out to me, dude.”

Brother-In-Law: *scoff* “How would you know? I was behind [My Name] all night. I was fine.”

(Wordlessly, I roll up the sleeves of my t-shirt to show my shoulders… where each one has five matching, tiny, fingertip bruises from where he was clinging to me.)

Me: “These are not the marks of a fearless man, sweetheart.”

(He blushed red right up to his hairline, and we all shared a good-natured laugh. I guess the woman he was flirting with thought that was cute, too, so he still got her number. Hopefully she can protect him from all those ghosties and zombies out there!)

Tearing Down Whatever You Built Up

, , , , , | Learning | June 1, 2017

One of the classes I take is basically a shop class. Our midterm grade is to build something for the area Inventor’s Fair.

I have a “friend” who can’t flesh out an original idea to save her life and while I have an idea, I can’t make it work. We end up partnering up — she fixes my idea– and we have the entirety of winter break to build the prototype and make the project’s poster-board and everything else for it. Well, we agree that I’ll do the research and poster-board because I’m not very good building things.

Halfway into break, I have the audacity to ask for pictures of the project for the board. She says, “Well, I built it, but it’s at my dad’s house in South Carolina and it wouldn’t fit in my bag to go on the plane home.”

I smelled bull-s***. But I thought, hey, we have a week still. It’ll be fine.

Every time I ask, and it gets to the point I’m asking everyday, she insists it’s at her dad’s, that he won’t send the pictures, that he’s being lazy, etc.

At this point I’m already rewriting the board and putting together a s*** prototype but a prototype which is the largest part of our grade.

Well, we present it, and she b****es eight ways to Sunday about the “plainness” of our board, and gets herself in trouble for continuing to decorate when the teacher says time’s up.

We go up and present. I have to present just about EVERYTHING because this girl doesn’t know a thing about what I had to do. All the pics are of me working, and the prototype is all my work.

Well, we survive, and I open up for questions and this girl says, before anyone can ask anything, “Just so you know, we had a better prototype that was pretty and well-made and all, but my dad’s being a butt and won’t send it.”

If looks could kill, I don’t know if the teacher or I would have killed her first.

Minus That Customer Would Be A Plus

, , , , | Right | May 31, 2017

(I am helping a customer with their return and have learned to point out sales and coupons used from their original purchase.)

Me: “Ok, so that item had a sale price of [total] plus an additional discount of 20% so you get [amount] back.”

Customer: “Minus.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “It’s a discount, so it’s minus, not plus.”

(Thinking she’s joking around, I counter:)

Me: “Or is could be thought of as you received one discount with the sale PLUS an additional discount with the coupon.”

Customer: “No. It doesn’t work that way. It’s minus. You’re taking money off.”

(At this point I realize she is completely serious and this is the battle she has chosen to fight this day. As my choice of language in no way hindered the actual return and not really caring one way or another I reply:)

Me: “Of course, ma’am. You are correct. Could you please accept the transaction on the pin pad?”

Customer: “It’s MINUS not plus!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Customer: “I can stand here and argue all day!”

Me: “Certainly, ma’am, but I am not arguing with you. I am agreeing with you.”

Customer: “It is NOT plus!”

Me: “Absolutely, ma’am.”

Customer: *gives a big sigh and rolls her eyes* “I hate this store.”

(Now, I don’t know if I ruined her day by wording things in a way that offended her sensibilities, or if I ruined her day because I wouldn’t argue with her about it, but either way, guess who got a complaint?)

Got Some Bones To Pick With Your Request

, , , | Right | May 31, 2017

(I work part-time in a supermarket deli/bakery combo where we also make sandwiches to order for customers. We offer basic options like turkey and swiss, but also allow customers to choose any meat and cheese from the deli to be sliced up, which thankfully not many take advantage of since it can slow things down during lunch rush. I’m currently serving a guy who is clearly far, far more important than he appears, judging by how rude and condescending he’s treating me and my coworkers.)

Customer: “I want [Very Specific Flavor and Brands of Turkey and Ham offered by our competitor].”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t carry those. But we do have—”

Customer: *contorts his face in disgust and throws up a hand to silence me* “No, I’m not interested in excuses. I’ll just have plain turkey and ham, then, I guess—” *heavy, soul-scraping sigh* “—in a wrap.”

Me: “No problem.” *I pull out one of our wraps*

Customer: “WAIT! Is THAT how big your wraps are?”

Me: “Yes, sir, this is what we offer.”

(Mind you, these are restaurant-sized 12 inch wraps. They ain’t puny, and the price is always less than six bucks after tax. I’ve had more than one customer tell me half is almost too much of a meal on its own given that we’re also instructed to pack them to “overflowing” unless the customer tells us otherwise.)

Customer: *annoyed look at the woman he’s with* “So small for the price! I’ll have a sub then, I guess.”

(As I’m making the sandwich, he continues to complain to his companion about how awful our company is for being “inconsistent” (again, citing us not carrying a brand only our competitor carries) and how he has “no time for excuses.” The cherry on top comes when he drops this line however…)

Customer: “Well, I’m being more careful about what I eat these days. More responsible and thoughtful. I owe it to the environment. I never eat anything that once had bones.”

(I finished making his HAM and TURKEY sandwich without comment. I have never had an issue with anyone who decides to be vegan or vegetarian for any reason, but I have to wonder… what kind of freaky Guillermo del Toro horror universe do you live in where pigs and turkeys don’t have bones?)

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