When Paying With Pretty Looks Is Not Looking Pretty

, , | Right | October 13, 2019

(I manage a restaurant. One night, at the end of service, one of my waiters says a pretty lady would like to speak to me about paying her bill. I go to her and he’s right; she’s gorgeous. I ask what the problem is, already thinking she’s unhappy about the service or has finished her food and then decided it was, in fact, not nice. She responds that the food was great and service was good, but…)

Customer: “I don’t have any money to pay for my drinks and food that I had with my friends, and they’ve all left.”

Me: “Is there anyone you can call to come settle the outstanding balance? Or you could leave your ID as security and come back tomorrow to pay the bill.”

Customer: “No, I can’t do either of those. Actually, there’s money in the car; let’s go get it together.”

(Naturally, I agree and go to the car park with her. She opens the door, leans seductively into the car, and pretends to rummage around for a while, waving her bum around in the air. Then, she slowly slides out, looks at me with brooding eyes, and says:)

Customer: “Oops, I guess I don’t have any money.”

(I ask again if she’s sure there’s nobody to call who could come pay.)

Customer: “No, but I’m sure we can arrange some other form of payment.”

(She licks her lips and looks me up and down, clearly implying some sort of sexual favor. She knows she’s an attractive woman and tries to play on it, stepping towards me, pushing out her chest.)

Me: *keeping a straight face* “Yes, we don’t only accept cash; we also take credit cards and other currencies at the exchange rate if you have any on you, or we could accept an online bank transfer from your bank to ours — our bank account is [number] — or if you have something like a ring or piece of jewelry to the value or higher than that of your meal, I’d be happy to hold on to it so you can come collect it and pay tomorrow.”

Customer: *doesn’t even take the hint* “Actually, I meant another way of paying, but since you’re at work, I get why you might be shy. How about you take my ring and then bring it to my house tomorrow and I’ll give you [amount more than her outstanding balance] for your trouble.” *stepping closer* “Then, maybe you can stay a while and we can get to know each other better.”

Me: *still keeping a straight face* “I doubt my wife will be too pleased with that idea, but I’ll just take your ring—” *practically snatches it* “—and you can come pay for it tomorrow.”

(I was struggling not to smile because she clearly wasn’t expecting to be turned down. She threw her hands in the air and had a kind of childish tantrum, and then got in her car and drove off. A driver came with the money the next day. I told my girlfriend and she just smiled and said she was pleased I’d called her my wife!)

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Never Been So Un-App-y To See Cash

, , , , , | Right | October 12, 2019

(I work for the national railway company. A drunk customer approaches me, asking how she can get a ticket. They have not been sold on the train since June 2017.)

Me: “Tickets can be bought from the ticket machines over there, the kiosk over there, or with a mobile application.”

Customer: *demanding* “Help me with the application!”

Me: “Okay… Are you sure you don’t want to use the kiosk? It’s probably the easiest way and you can check out the application later with more time.”

(She is considerably drunk and her train is going to leave quite soon.)

Customer: “Yeah, yeah, just show me how it works.”

Me: *helps the customer download, install, and set up the application for the next five minutes* “Now all you need to do is to choose which ticket you need and your payment method.”

Customer: *chooses her ticket type and stares at her phone for half a minute before pulling out a 10€ bill* “So, where do I put this, then?”

(It took me all my mental strength to not tell her to put it where the sun doesn’t shine. After recomposing myself, I told her to just use the d*** kiosk, that her train was going to leave in a minute, and that the next one would leave in an hour. At least she sobered up a bit during the wait.)

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Maybe He Should Move To America

, , , , | Right | October 11, 2019

(This took place nearly a decade ago. I’ve already voted and am just waiting for my wife to finish. I see an old man being wheeled in by three ladies, who I assume to be his wife, daughter and granddaughter. After entering, the old man takes a good look around before loudly asking a question:)

Old Man: “Where the f*** do I vote for the Nazis?!”

(Most of the voters freeze, and several stare at the old man. The ladies with him all look either shocked or embarrassed.)

Daughter: *sounding shocked* “Dad, you can’t f****** vote for them anymore.”

(They left quickly, and I never saw the old man ever again.)

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Who Thought Insurance Could Be Funny?

, , , , , , | Working | October 11, 2019

(It is two days after my dad passed away. My four siblings and I are at my mom’s house helping her go through things. The phone has been ringing pretty regularly with telemarketers. After several calls of my mom just hanging up, she starts talking with this guy. My siblings and I can only hear my mom’s side of the conversation so we’re a little confused at first.)

Mom: “Oh, I would absolutely be interested in that.”

(The telemarketer talks for a minute and Mom responds to him.)

Mom: “Yeah, that would be great, only, could we back-date it for about a week ago?”

(My siblings and I now have a pretty good idea what’s going on and are trying not to laugh too loudly in the background.)

Mom: “Well, I would really like to back-date it to at least a week ago.”

(The telemarketer again talks for a little bit and then my mom responds with this.)

Mom: “Well, you see, my husband passed away two days ago, so it would really need to be back-dated.” *small pause as the telemarketer says something* “Oh, you can’t do that?”

(My mom hangs up the phone and tells us what it was all about. The guy wanted to sell her life insurance for my dad. He got into the pitch and was obviously excited to get a sale when my mom finally told him Dad had died. The guy just stammered out:)

Telemarketer: “Wh… what? We… We can’t do that, ma’am.” 

(It was the first real laugh we’d had in two days. My dad had a great sense of humor and we all agreed he would’ve thought it was hilarious. So, thank you, telemarketer, whoever you are. We really needed that at that moment.)

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Slush With Excuses

, , , , , | Right | October 11, 2019

(I work in a cinema. At the end of the night, we put the automatic doors on exit-only thirty minutes after the last film begins so we can start closing down, cashing up, and cleaning. I’m an hour into my cleaning when I spot a guy walking towards the doors, and I elect to ignore him, as I hope he will notice the doors won’t open and go away. Instead, he begins to bang on the doors. I walk over to activate the automatic door function.)

Customer: “Thanks.” *starts walking towards the till*

Me: “Sorry, we’re closed now.”

Customer: “Closed? What do you mean, closed? I wanted a slushie!”

Me: “We’re closed for the night; that’s why you couldn’t get through the doors.”

Customer: *sighs heavily* “But I came all the way here for a slushie.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’ve been closed for an hour now. I can’t sell you a slush. There are no tills and the machines have been cleaned.”

Customer: “Well… it’s an awful long way to drive for a slush and not get one.”

Me: “Well… it’s an awful long time spent cleaning and cashing tills up to undo it all for a drink.”

(He left.)

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