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Something Creepy About Him And You Can Put Your Finger On It

, , , | Right | June 26, 2022

We have a creepy regular who always orders a complicated drink. He always finishes the order with:

Customer: “And end it with a ‘finger swirl’ in the drink.”

I give him a confused look.

Customer: “Well, how else am I gonna taste you?”

Sadly, he was not banned.

Gosh, We Wonder Why Someone Would Sue Him?

, , , , | Legal | June 20, 2022

I am an attorney, and I am about to attend a new client consultation. The prospective client is being sued for sexual harassment and sex-based discrimination in his workplace. Immediately upon entering the room, the prospective client greets me like this.

Client: “Hey, hot stuff. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?”

At this point, I have just put my briefcase down on the table and have just pulled the chair out to sit. I push the chair back under the table and pick my briefcase back up.

Me: “I am recusing myself from your case as I do not feel I will be able to remain impartial while representing you. You are welcome to seek a consultation with another attorney at the firm if you desire. Goodbye.”

Shortest client consultation ever.

Self-Check Out This Timing!

, , , , , , | Right | June 20, 2022

Around ten years ago, I started my first job at nineteen. Back then, I had a lot of enthusiasm for trying to move up in the company. After working my way up from bagger to cashier, I eventually got to run the self-checkout. This shift was a 6:00 pm to 2:00 am shift, with the store itself closing at twelve, leaving me to clean until 2:00 am and a few odd workers stocking out of sight.

One night, it was just about to hit twelve when one of the last customers to check out asked me to make change from my till at the podium. This was strictly against policy, and I told him I could not. After pestering me for a few minutes, this creepy forty-something-year-old man asked if there was “anything he could do to make it worth my while” in a very creepy voice. I went to get a grocery worker to help me, who was an older lady.

At this point, only one self-checkout unit was still open, which was for workers who wanted to quickly buy something before all tills were closed.

So, when the lady from grocery came up and told the creepy guy he had to leave because the store was now closed, he pointed out the open self-checkout which, in comedic timing, I had just been closing, and the unit announced loudly, “This checkout is now closed.”

The creepy guy yelled, “Oh, f*** you!” and finally left.

Everyone Wants To Be Liked, But Not Like This

, , , , , | Working | June 11, 2022

My dad works at a University. He hired someone to work in one of the labs. He said it really was an issue because she was a very attractive young woman and every guy in the place kept coming by to talk to her, hindering her from getting any work done.

This was in the 1970s, and it was incredibly difficult to get anyone to take anything like that seriously back then. People would just ask why she had the job then, because of course, women would only be working in order to find a husband anyway.

I think my dad ended up finding her a different place to work that had restricted access, but the fact that she literally had to change her working location just so she could get her work done without being bothered all the time… it’s ridiculous.

Yet Another Incel Hell

, , , , , | Right | June 9, 2022

I am on checkout in a variety store. I’m a woman. Every week or so, a customer comes through my checkout. I am chirpily polite to him, as I am required to be, and I’m also friendly because I recognise him and acknowledge him as a fellow human being.

A few months into my employment, I leave to walk home after the store has closed, well after sunset, and this customer approaches me. I recognise him and greet him — fellow human being and all.

Me: “G’day, [Customer], how are you?”

Customer: “Good. Can I buy you a drink?”

Me: “No, thank you. I need to get home.”

Customer: “Can I get your number? I would love to catch up away from your store.”

Me: “Sorry, no.”

Customer: “We get on really well. I want you to know me better.”

Me: “I don’t think my husband would agree.”

Secret: I am not married.

Customer: “You are married? You led me on, you b****! You made it pretty clear you liked me.”

Me: “I am sorry, but I am not interested.”

I fled back into the store, called a cab, and snuck out the back door to my parents’ house, where I lived.

I saw the customer once or twice at the tills, but he never approached me as a friend again.

This is not a dramatic story; it’s just something that happens all the time to women who are required to be friendly as part of their job.