Canada: America’s Hat, Part 11

, , , , , | Right | May 26, 2020

This story takes place on the east coast of Canada, in a city with a large, busy harbour, often full of cruise ships. I work in a small store downtown. An American woman and her husband come up toward the register.

Me: “Hi there! I can ring you through right here, if you’re ready.”

Customer: “Thank you!”

They are very friendly, and they recount the tale of their trip up the coast as I ring up her purchases and give her the total, which is just over $15.

Customer: “Do you take American bills?”

Me: “I can take anything under a hundred dollar bill, yes.”

She hands me an American $20, and I return her a handful of coins. Her eyes light up.

Customer: “Oh! Look, honey! It’s Nova Scotian money!” 

Her husband leans over her shoulder curiously to look, taking a nickel out of her hand and turning it over in his fingers.

Husband: “Oh… But wait. Look. They all say Canada on them!”

They pause for a very brief moment, and the customer looks up at me with shock.

Customer: “Wait… Nova Scotia is in Canada?!”

It took all my strength to hold back my laughter until they left the store, and to this day, I worry about the safety of people who get on cruise ships having no idea where they are actually going.

Related:
Canada: America’s Hat, Part 10
Canada: America’s Hat, Part 9
Canada: America’s Hat, Part 8

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No One Should Be This Stressed Over Cake

, , , , , | Right | March 13, 2020

(I work in the bakery department at a large grocery store. I am a cake decorator, but I am cleaning up for the night, as the store closes in less than an hour. A customer approaches the counter with her young son.)

Customer: “Excuse me, can I ask you something?”

Me: “Sure, what’s up?”

Customer: “Yeah, if I come in tomorrow morning, will you have chocolate cakes?”

(I look up, confused, because I know that there are at least ten different types of chocolate cake on the shelf at that moment.)

Me: “That… Sorry? What kind of cake were you looking for, exactly?”

Customer: *agitated* “I just want to know if you’ll have chocolate in the morning or will you make some?!”

Me: “Well, I’m sure these cakes will still be here in the morning.”

Customer: “OH, MY GOD! That isn’t what I’m f****** asking! I want this double chocolate cake. I want to know if it will be here in the morning.”

Me: “Oh, you mean the chocolate lovers. Well, I doubt it will sell by the end of the night, so it should be here in the morning. But I can’t guarantee that, technically.”

Customer: *now yelling everything at me* “Okay, you need to listen to me! Jesus! Will it be here in the morning and will you make another one?!”

Me: “All of our decorators are gone home for the night. If these cakes sell, we’ll make more, but I don’t know exactly when. If you need one for a certain time tomorrow, you can place an order, and I can—”

Customer: “Are you being sarcastic with me right now? I’m not f****** slow!”

Me: *very confused* “No, I’m not. I’m saying that I can’t guarantee this cake will be here when you come in. But if you place an order, which is basically just giving me your name and number, I can promise it will!”

Customer: “THAT ISN’T WHAT I’M ASKING! WILL IT BE HERE TOMORROW OR NOT?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

Customer: “Okay, I’ve had enough of this!”

(She storms off with her hands in the air. I’m still standing in the bakery entrance with a confused look on my face. My coworker, a lady older than me but brand new to the store, comments on the customer’s rudeness. The customer comes running back.)

Customer: “You are f****** rude. I am a customer! Are you really going to talk to me like this?!”

(I don’t know what else to do now, and I need to serve other customers, so I give up.)

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “You young brats are so rude! Oh, my God!”

(The customer screamed at my coworker, who she assumed must be my superior, about how I needed to be fired, as I served the other customers. The last thing I heard was the customer screaming in anger when she asked about the chocolate cakes, and my coworker had to turn to me for the answer!)

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Losername

, , , | Right | July 25, 2019

(One of my jobs is to help people log into their accounts, make sure their active directory and exchange accounts are working, and do remote tech support. A guy calls up and says the following:)

Caller: “Hi… Um, I have no idea what I’m doing. How do I log in?”

Me: “Okay, you type ctrl + alt + delete, and then the system will ask you to input your username and password.”

Caller: “What’s that?”

Me: “Oh, I can give you that. What’s your name?”

Caller: *gives his name and employee ID*

Me: “Okay, your username and password is your last name plus your first initials. Your temporary password is [password].”

Caller: “What’s a username?”

(At this point, I am starting to wonder if he is messing with me.)

Me: “Well, that’s your unique account ID that allows you to use the computer.”

Caller: “Oh, okay. So, how does it work?”

Me: “You input your username in the top box.”

Caller: “Okay.” *inputs username*

Me: “Then, you type your temporary password into the bottom box and hit Enter.”

Caller: *does this and then pauses* “Uh… It’s not working.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Caller: “It says, ‘Other login options or insert smart card.’”

Me: “Okay, that’s weird. Did you hit Enter after typing in your password?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, let’s try it again, then. Put in your username and your password, and then press Enter.”

Caller: “It did it again! Why doesn’t this stupid thing work?”

Me: “Did you press Enter?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “Are you sure you pressed Enter?”

Caller: “YES!”

Me: “Did you click on anything with your mouse before you pressed Enter?”

Caller: “No… Well, yeah. I thought it was like the Facebook on my phone, so after I typed in my info, I clicked the big button underneath.”

Me: “Don’t click that. That leads you to other methods for logging in.”

Caller: “Oh… So, how do I log in?”

Me: “You type in your username. Don’t click anything, and then type the enter key.”

Caller: “It’s telling me my password is blank.”

Me: “Did you type your password in the password box?”

Caller: “No.”

Me: “Why not?”

Caller: “You told me not to click anything.”

Me: “Okay, listen carefully and do exactly what I tell you to do. Do not do anything unless you hear me say, ‘Do that.’”

Caller: “Okay.”

Me: “Click on the box that says, ‘Username,’ and type in your username.”

Caller: “What’s that?”

Me: “…”

(I explain again.)

Caller: *types in his username*

Me: “Okay, now click on the password box and type in your password. Do not click on anything else, and then press the big button on your keyboard the says Enter.”

Caller: “Okay. It’s telling me my password has expired.”

Me: “Okay, now you need to type in a new password — something that will be easy to remember. Make sure it’s a combination of eight or more number or letters.”

Caller: “Okay!” *types in new password* “It didn’t work!”

Me: “Okay, did you use a combination of eight numbers and letters or more?”

Caller: “Oh… I only used seven…”

Me: “Okay, type a new password. Make sure you have a combination of eight numbers and letters.”

(I finally managed to get the guy logged in, and he hung up and went along his merry way. About an hour later, one of my buddies shouted over his cubicle saying that one of my customers had just called and forgot his password and didn’t know what his username was.)

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Making A Double Boob Of Yourself

, , , , | Healthy | July 21, 2019

(I am in the co-op program at my high school, and I have a placement at a local university medical clinic. Since I am a high school student, there are a lot of things at the clinic that I am not qualified to do, so I am often tasked with calling patients to inform them of specialist appointments that they have been referred to.)

Me: “Hello, is this [Patient]?”

Patient: “Yes, it is.”

Me: *reading the referral sheet* “I’m calling from Dr. [Doctor]’s office to let you know about an upcoming mammogram appointment on [date] at [Location].”

(Pause.)

Patient: “Well, I just had a double mastectomy, so I don’t think I’ll be needing that appointment.”

Me: “Oh.”

(I was mortified and apologized profusely; thankfully, the patient laughed it off. I informed my supervisor and she, while shocked, commended me on how I handled the situation.)

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More Hands-On With Their Complaints

, , , , | Right | May 17, 2019

(My cousin and I go out to get breakfast at a casual restaurant in the city.)

Waitress: “Is there anything you would like to drink today?”

Me: “I’d like a water, please.”

Cousin: “I hate when restaurants give you this stuff.”

Me: “What stuff?”

Cousin: “Like, knives… and forks and stuff.”

Me: “You hate when they give you cutlery?”

Cousin: “Yeah.”

Waitress: “…”

Me: “He’ll have a water, as well, please.”

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