Tracking To Become A Bad Joke

, , , | Working | February 6, 2019

(I order some clothes online from a very well-known brand, and since it took very long for my order to arrive the last time, I decide I can spare the five euros for next-day delivery. I order on Wednesday and hope my parcel will arrive just in time for me to wash the jeans before I go on a weekend trip the following week on Friday. Wednesday evening, I receive an email from the delivery service, saying my parcel will arrive on Friday. Thursday, another email comes in saying it will come earlier, on Thursday. But nothing arrives. Neither does it on Friday, so I decide to look at the tracking log. It says the parcel arrived at the distribution centre. I think maybe there was a problem and it will come on Saturday for sure. It doesn’t. Since then, the tracking log has sounded like a huge joke:)

Tracking Log: “Saturday: delivery address was not found.”

Tracking Log: “Sunday.” *they don’t deliver on Sundays* “Recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “Monday: 06:45 recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “10:45 parcel is being delivered.”

Tracking Log: “Tuesday: 07:23 recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “10:50 parcel is being delivered.”

Tracking Log: “Wednesday: 06:58 recipient was not encountered.”

Tracking Log: “11:03 parcel is being delivered.”

(It sounds very strange to me that they don’t meet me while the parcel is not even being delivered, despite me being a stay-at-home mom and being there ALL THE TIME. There is no way they’ve missed me. I call the service hotline of the clothing retailer and they assure me that the parcel is on the way and they will waive my delivery fee, since it’s clearly not the next day. On Thursday, still, nothing has arrived. The tracking log goes on the same way. I am very frustrated and call the delivery service. The service rep states that there must have been some kind of problem and he will have my parcel delivered to a station where I can pick it up on Friday after 16:00. I am at the station at 17:00, but the parcel is not. As soon as I get home, I call the retailer again because I am beyond frustrated. Now I think that they may have lost my delivery, but the rep tells me she spoke to them and guarantees me it will be at the station on Monday. Lo behold, it’s not. I call again:)

Me: “…and it was not there on Monday, either.”

Service Rep: “Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sorry. Let me have a look.”

Me: “I was thinking they lost it somehow.”

Service Rep: “Um, that’s very unlikely… Oh, it says it’s being delivered to you! Everything is fine.”

Me: “Yeah, it was being delivered yesterday too, and the day before and the whole last week! Just look into the tracking log. It’s a joke. A very bad one.”

Service Rep: “Uh… That’s weird.”

Me: “Yes.”

Service Rep: “Let me just look into that real quick.”

(After that, he was way more helpful, and cancelled the delivery order so the parcel would return to them… if it was still with the delivery company, which I highly doubt. He also gave me a coupon code for my next order, but I don’t think I will be ordering there anytime soon. I bought my jeans from another online store that uses another delivery company, and it arrived two days later.)

Boobs Are Hot

, , , | Romantic | February 3, 2019

(It’s winter. I’m in the kitchen, baking bread. My boyfriend sits in the living room on the couch. After getting the bread out of the oven, I lift my shirt and let the warm air from the oven blow to my bare breasts. Seconds after I start running to the couch.)

Me: “Honey, touch my boobs! Touch my boobs!”

(He seems slightly confused, but obliges and realizes that they are warm.)

Boyfriend: “Did you just lift your shirt to get them warm from the oven?”

(I spot a big grin, nodding excitedly.)

Boyfriend: “Yes. That’s my wife. No one else could be that way!”

(I’m gonna marry him. His crazy matches my crazy perfectly!)

Unfiltered Story #138514

, | Unfiltered | February 2, 2019

(I work in a bookstore. We are four employees, three of them blondes. I’m brunette, however I do have one blond streak at the time. I’m working in the back when a coworker calls me to the front. A regular waits at the cash register. When he sees me, he points at me)

Customer: “YES! I meant her! Now, was that so hard? I told you – the blonde!”
Me: “…”

Not Going To Cripple Your Argument

, , , , , | Friendly | February 1, 2019

(It’s a Sunday afternoon, and there’s a ridiculously popular flea market close to my gym. It’s located in a small shopping area with a few other stores that are closed on Sunday and thus, nobody cares about the “customers only” parking. I broke my foot a while ago and this gym has therapists who help me get back in track. I’m not their only case, by no means the worst, and I know that a young mother, who got severely hurt during labor and is bound to a wheelchair, always has the appointment after me and needs one of the handicapped spaces. As I’m looking for a parking space, I see a car pull into the last free — of four — handicapped spaces. A young man with his family gets out.)

Me: “Sorry to bother, but do you have a licence? This is—“

Young Man: “It’s a cripple space. Yeah, if they’re going shopping, they can walk that extra few meters.”

Me: “Okay, even if that would change anything about this being illegal, the gym behind is you is open and some clients need this space. They come here for thera—“

Young Man: “Now you’re s***ting me. No gym rat needs a handicapped spot! Get lost.”

(The parking lot, as well as every other lot around, is crowded, and there’s no chance but luck to get a spot close to the gym. I’m already fed up and his attitude is the last drop. I get out of my car.)

Me: “Oh, okay, so would you like to explain to my ankle how I don’t need therapy, or would you like to explain it to the cops?”

(Getting out, my scar-covered leg becomes visible. I also wear a bright blue “stabilizer sock” underneath an aircast-like fixture wrapped around my ankle. It’s just for support during therapy, but looks pretty bad.)

Young Man: “S***, the h*** happened to you?!”

Me: “None of your business. Could you leave or would you like to see—“

(The guy got back in his car, pulled back, and drove off while yelling at his left-behind wife that they’d meet at the kebab truck. She looked frazzled, apologized, and left. I learned that my gym tried to get them all towed, but every contractor was busy keeping roads accessible. They started taking pictures of every car parking in one the spots and reporting them. The spots are still taken whenever there’s a flea market, but it feels good to know they’ll be fined.)

Some Customers Are A Real Scream

, , , | Right | January 29, 2019

(I work at a small shop, so most of our customers are regulars who we know by their names, and vice versa. This customer is the kind you don’t know if you should love or hate. My boss is at the checkout and calls me over.)

Boss: “[My Name], show [Customer] where the [item] is!”

Me: “Okay!” *to customer* “Just follow me.”

Customer: “All right, I’m following you.” *as we are out of earshot* “And if it comes to extramarital sex you have to scream!”

(I thought it was hilarious!)

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