Managed That Garbled Mess

, , , , | Right | September 21, 2020

My job is to answer the phones in the office to book a service visit or to look up account information. On Saturdays, I’m the only one in the office. I receive two confusing phone calls back to back.

Me: “[Company], how may I help you?”

Customer: “Is [Manager] there?”

Me: “No, sorry, he’s only here Monday through Friday.”

Customer: “Okay, because he called me and I called him back because I need information that he has. So you’re saying you won’t be able to help me?”

Me: “Um, I could look up your account to see if there’re any notes in the system. What’s your address?”

I look up his account.

Me: “Oh, sorry, I don’t have that information in here.”

Customer: “Oh, I know. [Manager] has it. So you can’t help me?”

Me: “Uh, no, he won’t be in until Monday. I can take a message and tell him to call you or—”

Customer: “No, I knew he wouldn’t be in today. I’ll just call him on Monday.” *Click*

The phone is ringing again right away, even though Saturdays are usually very slow. This phone call is mostly garbled as if on a bad cell phone connection.

Me: “[Company], how may I help you?”

Customer: “I got a quote and I want to—” *garbled*

Me: “I’m sorry, did you say you wanted to book a service or to get a quote?”

Customer: “Yes, I want to know how much.”

Me: “I’m sorry, do you need a quote or do you want to book?”

Customer: “I have a quote and I want to know when.”

Me: “Okay, what is your address so I can pull up your account?”

The phone keeps cutting in and out.

Customer: “…[Address] [Street].”

Me: “And how do you spell [Street]?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Yes, [Street].”

Me: “Sorry, how do you spell the street name?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “You spell it ‘yes’?”

Customer: “I have a quote.”

I died a little inside.

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Give An Employee A Little Power…

, , , , , , , , | Working | September 11, 2020

I work at a retail outlet. It’s been a few weeks since the recent health crisis started, and our store now has a new temporary policy: customers must wait in a line to be admitted to the store by security, and no more than 200 customers are allowed in our store at any point. Employees who are scheduled to work do not have to wait in line, and do not count toward the limit.

This happens a few days after the policy is put in place. It’s 10:55 am, and I’m about to walk into the building for my 11:00 am shift. A fairly new coworker is regulating the line. As I enter the door, he stops me.

Door Attendant: “Excuse me, you have to wait in line.”

Me: “I work here.”

Door Attendant: “Doesn’t matter. You have to wait like everyone else.”

Me: “I’ll be late if I have to wait!”

Door Attendant: “Not my problem. Go to the back of the line.”

Me: “No. I have to get in.”

Door Attendant: *Physically blocking me* “You can’t just go in! You have to wait! Get in line!”

Knowing I won’t be able to get past him, I just go to the end of the line, which is VERY long and stretches around the side of the store. At about 11:05, my cell rings.

Boss: “Hey, what’s happening? You’re running late. Is something wrong? Car trouble? Traffic?”

Me: “No, I’m here, but I’m in line to get in the store.”

Boss: “What? Why are you in line? You don’t have to wait in line!”

Me: “Well, according to [Door Attendant], I have to.”

Boss: “Wait, did you say, ‘[Door Attendant]’?”

Me: “Yup.”

Boss: *Sighs* “For Pete’s sake… Just come in. Don’t listen to what he says. I’ll let you clock in late and stay late to make up the time you lost.”

I get out of line and head back to the entrance. My coworker is waiting there.

Door Attendant: “Hey! HEY! I said you can’t come in here without waiting in line!”

Me: “I work here, and I’m already late for my shift.”

Door Attendant: “NO! You do not have permission to go past this point!”

Me: “Yes, I do! I have [Boss]’s permission!”

Door Attendant: *Screaming* “I don’t care if you have [Boss]’s permission; you do not have my permission! NOW GET BACK IN LINE!”

Just then, my boss comes to the door with one of my other coworkers behind him.

Boss: “First and foremost, [Door Attendant], you don’t ever yell at anyone in this store. Second, she doesn’t need your permission, or anyone’s permission, for that matter. She works here, and because of you, she is now late for her shift! Go to my office and wait for me there. [My Name], come on in. [Coworker], you take over for [Door Attendant].”

The attendant was written up and sent home on his last chance; apparently, it wasn’t the first time he’d made employees wait in line when they didn’t have to, nor was it the first time he’d screamed at someone. He wasted little time throwing that last chance out the following day when he tried to pull the same stunt on the district manager, and he was fired.

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This Story Gets Darker And Darker

, , , , , | Right | September 10, 2020

I’ve worked at this particular sandwich shop for over five years and have yet to have a customer complaint called in on me, which is no easy feat.

A middle-aged woman steps up to order. It’s important to note that I tend to explain things to customers if they seem like they need it so maybe next time they will order correctly.

Me: “Hi, how are y—”

Customer: “Give me some of that dark bread!”

I pause; there are two types of bread that could be considered dark.

Me: “We have [bread #1] and [bread #2]. Which one would yo—”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this. Gimme that dark bread!”

I make a guess and pick [bread #1] and place it on the counter to cut it.

Customer: “Is that bread soft?”

Me: “I baked all of these breads less than two hours ago.”

I offer the bread to her to feel; we are allowed to do this as long as, if they don’t want the bread, we credit it and don’t use it. She shakes her head and waves me off.

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this. Put some of that dark turkey on it!”

I look at the meat options and nothing there could be construed as dark turkey; our turkey meat is made from turkey breast. She starts pointing at what she wants, but the way our unit is set up, it’s nearly impossible to accurately tell what a customer is pointing at, so I start pointing for her. I point at the turkey, no, ham, no, then…

Customer: “That! That dark turkey!”

Me: “Okay, so this is what you want on your sandwich? No problem! Just so you know, this is roast beef.”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this. I want some of that turkey on it, too.”

I pause; we don’t have a sandwich made up of turkey and roast beef. I try to figure if I should just do a double-meat sandwich or a [sandwich type]. 

Me: “Okay, we don’t have a sandwich that’s just turkey and roast beef, but we do have a [sandwich type], but it also has ham. I could leave the ham off, if you want?”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this.”

I decide to do the [sandwich type] minus the ham and put the standard amount of meat on it and slide the sandwich down.

Customer: “Is that all the meat I get?”

Me: “That’s the standard amount; if you like, I could add double meat but it’s an extr—”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this. I want some extra meat.”

I slide the sandwich back down, redistribute and add to the meat, and slide it to the previous position. Corporate has just mandated that we aren’t supposed to ask about cheese anymore since cheese doesn’t fit with the nutritional brand profile — and yes, I know it is stupid.

Me: “Would you like this toasted?”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this.”

Okay, not toasted, then. I go to move down to the veggies.

Customer: “What, I ain’t get cheese on it?”

I pause and give a hopefully chagrined smile.

Me: “You can absolutely have cheese! We just aren’t allowed t—”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this. Gimme that white cheese.”

I look down at the four varieties of cheese we offer, all white. Rather than asking, I just grab the most commonly used cheese and put it on the sandwich.

Customer: “Is that all the cheese I get?”

Me: “It’s the standard amount. If you’d like extra—”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this. Gimme more cheese.”

I put extra on and move to the veggies.

Customer: “What, you ain’t going to toast it?”

Me: “No problem!”

I turn and grab the necessary items and put the sandwich on the tray.

Customer: “What, I ain’t get no veggies on it?”

I smile slightly, again.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry! We don’t typically put veggies on before something’s toasted because it wilts the veggies, but we can absolutely—”

Customer: “I ain’t got time for this. Put some tomatoes on there.”

I pull the sandwich, still on the paddle for toasting, back to the veggies and add the requested tomatoes. As I go to put the sandwich in the toaster, my eagle-eyed manager sees me shake my head an inch — something that would be very believable as part of the motion to put the sandwich in the toaster if you were looking from behind like the customer. The next thing I know, my coworker, who was washing dishes, comes from the back.

Coworker: “Hey, [Manager] wants to see you in the back. You go on, and I’ll finish.”

I nod and head towards the back, but not before plugging in what the sandwich and its extras are on the register. When I walk into the back, [Coworker #2] bursts out laughing.

Coworker #2: “How did you keep your cool for so long while eight months pregnant?!”

And that’s how I kept my customer-complaint-free streak going until I left after the baby was born.

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Unfiltered Story #207933

, , , | Unfiltered | September 10, 2020

My boss gets a lot of calls and we have no secretary, so we all answer the phones to screen the calls or take care of things we can since the boss is often on another line. …This isn’t the first or probably not the last time this happens…

Me: Thanks for calling [company], this is [name].

Customer: Oh yeah, is [boss] there? I need to talk to him.

Me (seeing that the boss’s line is free): Yes sir, let me get you there to him now.

Customer: Oh, OK, I guess I just try back later then. Thanks. (hangs up)

Me (dumbfounded talking to myself): … … …but …but why? He was available…

Co-Worker (that heard me): What happened with that call?

Me: I have no idea…

You Have To Watch Those Open Doors Like A Hawk

, , , , , | Related | September 9, 2020

I’m sitting in the living room with my eighteen-month-old nephew when I hear a thud in the kitchen.

Mom: “OH, MY GOD!”

I start to get up to see what’s wrong when I hear crashing and something glass shattering.


Thinking she might be hurt, I run to the door and open it. My mom is standing in the middle of the kitchen looking toward a window overlooking the back porch. On one of the shelves of the window is a bird. More specifically, it’s a freaking HAWK. The poor thing is terrified and trying to get out the window, knocking everything off in the process.

My mom, sister — who was in another room getting ready for work — and I aren’t really sure how to get it out of the house. The poor thing keeps trying to go out of the two windows that currently can’t be opened and doesn’t seem to notice the one that my mom opened for it. She considers throwing a quilt over it and carrying it outside, but she doesn’t want to hurt it or for it to hurt her. We call animal control who gives us a number for a wildlife expert and the woman doesn’t answer her phone. Eventually, my mom manages to use a broom to herd it to the window, and it flies off. Fortunately, no one was hurt, not even the hawk.

And how did it get in the kitchen? My mom was getting ready to can food and opened the side door so she could take some water to her canner outside on the covered carport. She was filling a pot up to take outside when she heard a thud and turned to see it by the window. It had apparently been swooping for something and managed to fly through the open outside and hall doors, only to crash into the closed window. We’re not sure what the odds are of this sort of thing happening, but it did.

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