Needs To Quit Doing That

| Calgary, AB, Canada | Working | September 23, 2015

(There is a coworker who shares the same first name with me. Ever since he started working here, the two of us are constantly mixed up by one of the managers. Normally it is nothing serious, such as calling me and then having to clarify he meant the other one or something similar. I notice that I am suddenly not getting any more shifts. Curious, I head in and see the manager is in, apparently annoyed.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager]. Something wrong?”

Manager: “It seems [Coworker with same name] wants me to fire him. Hasn’t shown up for any shifts lately, and now won’t to answer his cell.”

Me: “If you want, you can give me the shifts he’s working. I haven’t worked anything for a couple weeks now.”

Manager: *gives me an odd look* “That’s because you quit. You don’t work here anymore.”

Me: *surprised* “What?! Since when?”

Manager: “You handed in your two weeks notice. Once that was done, you were let go.”

Me: “That wasn’t me! I came here wondering why I wasn’t getting any shifts!”

(This only seems to confuse Manager even more, but then seems to notice something.)

Manager: “Wait, aren’t you [My Name, Other Coworker’s surname]?”

Me: “No, I’m [My Name, My surname]!”

Manager: “…Wait here a second.”

(He heads to the back. A couple minutes later, he returns with a letter. Indeed it’s a two-week’s notice… for the coworker with the same name.)

Manager: “…I got your names mixed up again, didn’t I?”

Me: “Looks that way.”

Manager: “Don’t worry; I’ll get this fixed ASAP. Sorry about that. Should have thought it was weird that you quit so suddenly when [now former Coworker with same name] kept talking about finding a new job.”

(To his credit, the Manager had me working again within the week, and even got my pay back to what it was from the previous raises I had earned instead of minimum wage. He even added another raise shortly after, as ‘an apology for firing the wrong [My Name].’)

Credited With Having No Children

| Canberra, ACT, Australia | Right | September 23, 2015

Me: “Enter your PIN, sir.”

(He does, and then removes card straight away, not waiting for the machine.)

Me: “Sir, it looks like you pulled out early—”

Customer: “Story of my life! It’s why I don’t have kids.”

(The next customer and I burst out laughing.)

Very Slow Burn

| Victoria, BC, Canada | Right | September 23, 2015

(I am working in a large grocery store on a busy Saturday. Each till has at least eight people in line, and I can’t even see the end of the queue. I am scanning items as quickly as I possibly can and have not made any mistakes. My next customer is a lady with two overflowing carts of groceries, so I greet her and start scanning her items at my usual pace.)

Customer: “SLOW DOWN!”

Me: *startled* “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “SLOW DOWN! I don’t like it when you scan my items so quickly.”

(I double check her bill but see no mistakes.)

Customer: “And I like to watch you scan every item so don’t touch another thing until I’m done unloading!”

(The line up is still quite long behind her, and she has barely unloaded any items onto the belt. No amount of reasoning will convince her to let me start scanning her items until she has unloaded each product, one by one.)

Me: *resumes scanning*

Customer: “I said not so fast! Do I have to report you to your manager?”

(In the end I had to scan her items at a snail’s pace, several people change queues, and when she finally pays and leaves she’s still muttering about reporting me to my manager.)

Next Customer: “Please scan my items as quickly as you’d like. I don’t mind!”

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Blunt Answers Are Your Best Protection

| BC, Canada | Friendly | September 22, 2015

(I’m an unmarried 24-year-old woman living in a very religious town. I’m at the grocery store, scanning my loot through the self-checkout. Next to me there’s a stuffy-looking old couple in their 70s. The poor husband is trying to scan their groceries while his wife snipes at him, telling him he’s doing everything wrong. The old hag spies me scanning a box of condoms. I see her eyes do a little flick down to my (bare) left ring finger and back up to my face. Her eyes narrow and she snaps:)

Woman: “Young lady, why are you buying THOSE?”

Me: *so taken aback and offended that I reply, probably too loudly* “Because I have sex.”

(She doesn’t say another word, not to me or to her husband. I pay for my groceries and laugh all the way to the car.)

Getting Sour Over The Sauerkraut

, | GA, USA | Right | September 13, 2015

(Our spicy mustard is clearly labeled spicy mustard, and I generally clarify, when someone asks for deli mustard, that they want the spicy and not something else. No one has EVER had a problem with this. Our reuben sandwiches – which are half size, even for a “whole” – are also premade except for a little cup of sauerkraut and thousand island, which is also premade.)

Customer: “I want two reubens.”

Me: *looking for the kits underneath the sub station*

Customer: “Oh, and I want one half turkey.”

Me: “We can’t split meats, and the reubens aren’t very big to start with.”

(I put one on top of the station.)

Customer: “That’s not what I want! I want it on the foot long roll!”

Me: “Sure, we can do that.”

(I verify with the manager that we’d charge as a special order, instead of the reuben. It actually ends up cheaper.)

Customer: “Actually, I want one of them turkey.”

(I slice the meats, get her bread, and start with mayo or mustard as the usual, which is not standard on a reuben.)

Customer: “Mayo on the roast beef, mustard on the turkey.”

Me: *reaching for the yellow mustard, about to squeeze it on* “I’m sorry, did you want a roast beef instead?”

Customer: “Deli mustard! No, I want corn beef!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Spicy mustard? And we have corned beef here. I thought you said roast beef.”

Customer: “Well, everywhere else calls it deli mustard.”

Me: “Sure miss, I understand. Our label just says spicy mustard, see? I just want to make sure I get the right thing on your sandwich. Sauerkraut and thousand island?”

Customer: “Yes, a lot of sauerkraut and a little dressing. On the reuben, not the turkey.”

(Unwilling to make another comment that might upset her, I use the sauerkraut dressing kits on the reuben, and go to toast both sandwiches.)

Customer: “You didn’t put the sauerkraut on the turkey!”

Me: “I’m sorry. I thought you said you didn’t want any on the turkey?” *I get the kits and put it on the turkey as well*

Customer: “We don’t seem to be communicating very well. You got very upset that I called the deli mustard ‘deli mustard’ and insisted I call it spicy mustard and even shoved it in my face! And you didn’t hear me say about the sauerkraut!”

(Note at this time, she’s changed her mind half a dozen times on bread, cheese, meats, mayo/ mustard, and now the sauerkraut but she seems completely unaware that she keep changing her mind, and clearly believes everything is my fault for not knowing what she meant when she says something different.)

Me: “My deepest apologies, ma’am. I’m sorry I’m just a bit confused. You changed your mind a few times so I want to make sure I get your order right.” *I get the sandwiches out and take them to the veggie station* “What would you like?”

(At this point, we go through a dozen veggies, where I keep having to clarify both sandwiches, or which sandwich, and she’ll tell me to put something on that I’ve already put on, almost like she can’t see it at all, even though she is staring intently at it.)

Customer: *at the end, I’m about to wrap it up* “You didn’t put thousand island on it!”

Customer #2: “Hey, is there someone else that can help me! I’ve been waiting here forever!”

Me: *to the first customer* “Yes, I did, ma’am, it was mixed in with the sauerkraut kits I put on earlier.” *to Customer #2* “Miss, we all have customers right now but we will be with you as soon as we can.”

Customer: *mumbles* “Well, I didn’t want the dressing.”

Customer #2: *glares*

Me: “The sauerkraut kits were premade and out of my control. That’s what comes on a reuben sandwich, and you said you wanted dressing earlier and just asked me why I didn’t put it on.”

(I wrapped up the totally disgusting looking reuben and turkey/sauerkraut with loads of veggies sandwiches  before she can mutter another word, and I hit the button for the more expensive brand and hand them off. She glared at me, opened her mouth and started complaining that they weren’t labeled reubens (which at that point, they weren’t). I heard her yelling about it to the air as I helped Customer #2, who as it turned out just wanted something for the self-serve hot case, but apparently didn’t notice the lack of glass front. I went around to the back and promptly burst into tears at getting yelled at over spicy mustard.)

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