That’s The Way We All Became The Nuhsolicitores Bunch

, , , , , | Working | December 1, 2018

(We have a “No Solicitors” sign above our doorbell; it’s pretty hard to miss, and my dad has little patience for people who ignore it. One day, someone rings the bell and my dad answers the door. They immediately start a sales pitch.)

Dad: “Wait, wait. Hold on. Did you see this sign?” *points to sign over doorbell*

Salesperson: “Uh… Yes?”

Dad: “Then do you not understand what ‘No Solicitors’ means?”

Salesperson: *pauses* “Isn’t it your name?”

Dad: “What?”

Salesperson: “Yeah, I thought it was your name. Like, it was Italian? ‘Nuh Solicitores,’ right?”

Dad: *stares at him for a minute and then just shuts the door*

Caught In The Middle

, , , , , | Friendly | December 1, 2018

(I am a remote employee. I’m chatting via phone with two coworkers who happen to be good friends of mine, as well. They ask if I need any supplies, and I jokingly say I need one of those edible fruit and chocolate arrangements from TV. Unbeknownst to me, these two sweethearts decide that because my husband and I have had to deal with a lot lately, they will split the cost of actually ordering one of these arrangements for us as a surprise. Of note is that these two guys only ever refer to me by my middle name, and I’m not really used to hearing it anywhere else. A few days later, having forgotten all about my offhand joke, I am working at home when there is a knock at my door early in the morning. I initially ignore it, because we get a lot of solicitors and I’m not expecting anything. But then there’s a louder knock and I finally answer it.)

Delivery Guy: *holding the bouquet with a big smile* “[Middle Name]?”

Me: “Oh! I think you have the wrong house.”

Delivery Guy: “Oh! I’m sorry.”

Me: “No problem. Have a good day.”

(A few minutes later he knocks again.)

Delivery Guy: “Sorry, I’ve just confirmed this is the address. Is it maybe a surprise for you?”

Me: “Well… there’s no [My Own Friggin Middle Name] here.”

Delivery Guy: “Hmm! Okay, sorry for the bother; I’ll get it sorted.”

(I shut the door and my husband pokes his head into the hallway.)

Husband: “What was that?”

Me: “A delivery for someone named [Once Again, I Stress, MY Middle Name]. Wrong address.”

Husband: *stares at me*

Me: “What?”

Husband: “Honey…”

Me: “Oh, my God, I’M [YES, MY MIDDLE NAME]!”

(I ran outside. Luckily, the poor delivery guy hadn’t driven off, as he was sitting in his vehicle calling the office trying to sort things out. He had a good laugh at my expense, and I tipped him generously to make up for my lapse in brain activity. I’m glad I have such thoughtful friends and coworkers, even if I must sometimes make them question whether I’m worth the effort if it’s this much trouble to do something nice for me.)

Fake Names Get Fake Service

, , , , , | Right | November 28, 2018

(I work at a self-service photo lab. You enter your memory card into a computer, select your photos, and enter your name. It prints off a slip, you pay, and you come back later to collect your photos. Every single time, we remind customers to hold onto the receipt with the slip, as it not only proves you paid for your photos, but has your name and order number on it, so we know what photos are yours.)

Customer: “I’m just here to pick up my photos.”

Me: “Sure, no problem; can I get the receipt?”

Customer: “Sorry, mate, I lost it.”

Me: “That’s okay; it happens. What name were they under?”

Customer: *gives his name*

Me: *looks for photos* “I can’t find any order by that name. Did you order them today?”

Customer: “Yeah, I did it like twenty minutes ago.”

Me: “Okay, cool. Let me just look again.”

Customer: “Okay.”

Me: “I still can’t find any photos under that name. Are you sure that’s the name that you ordered them under?”

Customer: *gives me a condescending look* “Mate, I’m pretty sure I know my own name.”

Me: “Fair enough. Let me look again to be sure.”

(I look for the photos again.)

Me: “There is definitely nothing under that name. Are you sure that you printed and paid for them here?”

Customer: “100% sure.”

Me: “There definitely isn’t anything under here with that name.”

(I go through all the orders and show the customer the first photo of each order to see if he recognises his order. We aren’t really meant to do this, but it’s the only way I can think of to ID his order. After about thirty orders:)

Customer: “Yep, that’s one of mine. The next photo should be of a boat.”

(The next photo is indeed of a boat, so I’m confident this is his order.)

Me: “These photos are under the name of [Completely Different Name].”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, that’s right; I used a fake name. Sorry about that.”

Meet Her Friend Mardeline

, , , , , , | Right | November 25, 2018

(I work twelve-hour shifts in registration in a very busy emergency department. I’ve just walked into work and we are currently experiencing downtime with our system, so I have to manually enter patients in with the correct spelling and date of birth, or the system will reject them. A patient comes up to me to check in.)

Patient: “I need to be seen by the doctor.”

Me: “Okay, I just need your first and last name.”

Patient: *speaking extremely low* “Dara Smith.”

Me: “Okay, did you say Dara?”

Patient: “No, I said Da-ra-thy.”

Me: “So, is that Dorothy?”

Patient: “No, Dorothy has no syllables; my name has three.”

Me: “Okay, can you spell your first name for me?”

Patient: “I can’t believe you don’t know how to spell Do-ra-thy.”

Me: “Is it just the traditional spelling of Dorothy? D-O-R-O-T-H-Y?”

Patient: “Yes.” *shaking her head*

Me: “Okay, ma’am, the way you are saying it makes it sound like there is an A in there somewhere. But I have you checked in, so take a seat and they will call you up shortly.”

Coworker: “And we still have eleven hours to go with this s***.”

Not Doing A B.A.M. Up Job

, , , , , , | Working | November 18, 2018

(I work at a franchise location of a national restaurant chain. After a looong renovation, it has finally reopened as a flagship store for the entire company. Because of this, our owner, district manager, marketing rep, etc. have been there every day during our busy period to help and to work out the kinks. Unfortunately, many of our old staff found other jobs during the six months we were closed, so most of our staff is new, and some are less than stellar employees. One morning, a newer employee calls to say he is going to be late, over two hours after his shift starts. He speaks to a manager with a common name, let’s say Dan. He keeps cutting Dan off and finally hangs up. He calls back a few minutes later, and our district manager — basically the highest authority other than the owners — answers. Our district manager is also named Dan.)

District Manager: “Thank you for calling [Store]; this is Dan.”

(Pause.)

District Manager: “Yes, this is Dan. What’s up, [Employee]?”

(Pause.)

District Manager: “No, you didn’t speak to me earlier… No, you really didn’t… No, I’m not messing with you,[Employee]; you didn’t talk to me… Yes, this is Dan, but I think I’d know if I’d spoken to you in the last ten minutes… You didn’t talk to me, man…”

(Pause.)

District Manager: *perfectly calm* “I’m sorry, but there’s no one here named B****-A**-Motherf***er.” *hangs up*

(The district manager walks over to the other Dan, still completely calm, and says in a conversational tone of voice:)

District Manager: “[Employee] no longer works here.”

Page 2/1812345...Last