Unfiltered Story #97599

| Unfiltered | October 13, 2017

(I live in an area where a relatively light Swabian(schwäbischer) dialect is common, but most people can switch to standard German depending on the situation, usually with only a few dialect pronounciations or wordings left over. I grew up in a household where only my mother spoke Swabian and only in a very heavy dialect with different vocabulary of she’d visited her hometown, where everyone speaks with a heavy dialect. As a consequence I personally speak standard German with a few Swabian pronounciations and sometimes even have problems understanding a heavier dialect. Over spring I’ve started working in a small and mainly sit down café, where we are encouraged to chat with customers.)

Customer: *Swabian dialect*”Hello, can I sit where I want?”
Me: “Wherever is free. The menu is on the table. So you already know what you want?”
Customer: *dialect*”No, not yet, thanks. Would you mind coming back in about five minutes to help me?”
Me: “Sure, I’ll come by then.” *cleans tables*
Me: “Are you ready to order?”
Customer: *it’s 08:06*”Well yes, I’d like [drink], but if I buy one of these cookies, would they be finished by three quarter nine?”
(We offer cookies and other baked goods, which are pre-prepared and then put in a small oven whenever someone orders them. ‘Three quarter nine’ is a Swabian wording which I always have troubles understanding. Essentially in standard German you’d say ‘a quarter before nine’- 08:45, but I never remember which time is meant exactly because the before or after is left out.)
Me: *playing it safe*”They would be finished in 15 minutes, would you like your drink now?”
Customer: “Yes, but will they be finished by three quarter nine?!”
Me: “Err, do you mean 09:15? If so, definitely yes.”
Customer: *glares*”DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?! THREE QUARTERS NINE!!”
Me: *tying hard not to shrink back or panic*”I do. But I don’t know which time that is meant to be.”
Customer: *jumps up, slams hands on table* “YOU F*CKING LIVE HERE! YOU SHOULD KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, YOU STUPID B*TCH! GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM!” *throws a sugar shaker in my direction*
(I’m frozen to the spot because this was absolutely unexpected. Luckily my boss intervened at this point.)
Boss: *cold voice*”Get out.”
Customer: “I. DEMAND. TO BE TREATED APPROPRIATELY! GIVE ME A DISCOUNT!!”
Boss: *takes phone out of pocket, starts talking with an incredibly cheery voice* “Very well. If you won’t leave, I’ll be calling the police to ‘treat. you. appropriately’ with charges of attempted assault on my employee and damaging of store property. We have several eye witnesses and security footage.” *points to small black box on the ceiling*
Customer: *pales and runs out, forgetting his wallet in the process*
(My boss steers me to the employees room as I’m still kind of frozen)
Me: “I thought we didn’t have a security camera.”
Boss: *winks* “We don’t. Are you okay though? That was your first incident with a customer like this. You can take a break if you want to.”
Me: “I still have to clean up. I’m fi-” *my legs give out and my boss catches me before I fall*
Boss: “No, you’re not. Sit down, I’ll clean up.”
(Two minutes later she came back with several of my favorite pastries and a tea, from customers who had witnessed the whole incident. A little card hidden in-between said “I still don’t understand how the whole quarter stuff works and I am from [area where everyone speaks very heavy Swabian]. Thumbs up for staying calm!”. I’ve since moved and gotten new jobs, but that was one of my favourites and I learned a huge amount of ways to deal with troublesome customers from my boss!)

Urine Trouble Now

, , , , | Right | October 10, 2017

(My style is punkish, with colorful hair and piercings. It’s a slow day and I am working the counter on my own when an angry, rather posh-looking customer comes up to me.)

Customer: “Go tell your manager to buy some urinal cakes. Here is 10€, since it seems that your restaurant can’t afford them!”

Me: *confused* “Uhm… Okay?”

(I refuse to take the money, since he’s made his point. He then throws it on the counter.)

Customer: “Take it and go to your manager!”

(As he leaves the counter new customers arrive, so I temporarily put the money in my pocket and take their orders first. While I am quickly serving the last customer, my manager joins me at the counter. Before I can say a word, the angry customer is back.)

Customer: *to the manager* “Did she give you the 10€ for the urinal cakes? Your toilets are really dirty and disgusting, and you should do something about it!”

Manager: “I am sorry that our restrooms seem to be dirty, sir. I will go and check them myself. But what money are you talking about?”

Customer: *to the manager* “I gave her 10€ and told her to give them to you, so you can buy some urinal cakes!” *to me* “You little piece of s***! You put the money in your own pocket without even telling him!”

Me: “I was going to tell him, but then I had to serve new customers. Here: you can have the money back. I didn’t even want to take it in the first place, but you made me.”

Customer: *looking me up and down* “It seems that you are in need of all the money you can get. So, keep it, you poor piece of s***! What a crappy place!”

(He then storms out of the restaurant. My manager takes me to the back to ask what just happened there. I tell him the whole story, afraid that I’m in trouble for this.)

Manager: *laughing* “What an idiot! Just keep the money!”

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Customer Interaction Isn’t Meant To Be With Each Other

, , , , | Working | October 9, 2017

(I’m at the office and our Internet is not working. I’m calling our ISP. After waiting for almost half-an-hour, I finally reach their service desk. After I explain the problem, the following conversation takes place.)

Support: “Okay, again, sorry about the long wait. Let me transfer you to the technical department; a tech will take it from there.”

Me: “All right, thanks.”

(I’m back on hold, but only for a moment.)

Other Person: “Hello?”

Me: “Hello, my name is [My Name]. We have no Internet at the office. The modem shows it has no DSL connection. The customer ID…”

Other Person: “Yes, it’s [other customer ID].”

Me: “Uhm… no… it’s [my customer ID].”

Other Person: “Huh? No, it’s not. I have it here on the invoice.”

Me: “What invoice?”

Other Person: “The invoice you sent me? Like the ones you send me every month?”

Me: “Wha… Wait… You’re a customer?”

Other Person: “Well, obviously? I called you about my Internet connection. You just repeated the issue back to me; now I’m expecting you to fix it.”

Me: “Hardly. I called because I’m having the same problem. And now they put me through to you. I guess he was really out of it.”

Other Person: “Oh, great. At least I have someone to talk to instead of that stupid recording that keeps telling me how important my call is to them. So, what do we do now?”

Me: “I guess we’ll have to call again.”

(And so we did. This time I didn’t wait as long, and they actually got it fixed within an hour or so. Hope they could also help the other guy.)

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No More Hibernating Away From The Gym

, , , , | Related | October 7, 2017

(During dinner.)

Mom: *in scarf and long clothes* “Ugh, it’s gotten so terribly cold! This morning I had to wear my thick jacket!”

Dad: *pulls up t-shirt and motions towards his stomach* “Look at this! It’s gotten so cold!”

Sister: *blank* “That you’re accumulating winter fat?”

Dad: *glares* “So cold that I’m wearing an undershirt.”

Sister: *laughing her a** off*

(Dad started going to the gym soon after.)

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Everything He Says Is True

, , , | Friendly | October 5, 2017

(I work at an upscale garden show and vendors’ market once a year, which is sponsored by an aristocratic family and takes place on the grounds of their manor. On one evening, the head of the house also holds a special VIP event, to which he invites politicians, CEOs, and other aristocrats. They receive a special invitation, which also counts as their ticket to the garden show before the event. Unfortunately, a lot of the VIPs forget their tickets and are the stereotypically arrogant, “Don’t you know who I am?! I don’t NEED a ticket!” kind of people. So far, we’ve had four small altercations with VIPs, and I fear another one coming when I see a quite posh-looking man approach my table from the side.)

Posh Man: “Hello! I have a bit of a problem. My wife and I forgot our invitations to the VIP event. We’re terribly sorry. Is there any way to let us in, or do we have to drive back home?”

Me: *somewhat taken back by his friendly politeness* “Oh, that should be no problem! All I need is your ID or anything else that shows your name, and I can ask the organisers to check the invite list.”

(The wife suddenly begins to giggle while the man is searching for his ID.)

Wife: “You’re not going to believe us, I think.”

Posh Man: “Oh, yes.” *smiling sheepishly* “You probably won’t. We get it a lot.”

(Confused, I take his ID – and see that his title is Baron von Munchausen. I can’t help but laugh. “The Baron von Munchhausen” is a fairly well-known old collection of stories about said Baron, who makes up grand tales and stories of impossible feats about himself, such as riding on a cannon ball, riding a horse that was cut in half, etc.)

Me: *joking* “Oh, lord! Are you sure you got an invite?”

Posh Man: *winks* “I assure you it is not a lie!”

Me: “To be honest, I’d be tempted to let you in even if it was, just for the story!”

(After a quick chat with the organisers, they confirmed that he and his wife were invited, so I let them in. He winked at his wife, saying, “It worked!” loud enough for me to laugh again. He later left a tiny box of chocolate from one of the vendors in the office for “the ticket girl with good humour.” One of the nicest VIP encounters I’ve had in the five years I worked that job.)

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