Password Blurred

, , , , | Right | February 2, 2020

(I work as a service coordinator at an MSP in Honolulu. We reset passwords, work on networks, etc., for dedicated companies)

Client: “Hi, I deleted my file with all my passwords in it and I don’t know what to do.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, we can recover that file for you.”

Client: “Oh, no, that’s too much trouble. I just want to know what to do if I forget my password.”

Me: “You want your password reset?”

Client: “No, I know my password but what if I fall asleep and forget it?”

Me: “Well, we can always reset your password, or we can recover the file with your passwords on it so that you have a copy of your password.”

Client: “No, I want to know what I should do if I forget it. I’m really afraid I’m going to fall asleep and wake up and forget the password.”

Me: “We can reset your password in that case.”

Client: “But then what if I forget that one, too? What if I fall asleep and the next morning I can’t remember it?”

Me: “Let me transfer you to a technician, ma’am.”

(He ended up resetting and advising her to call in when she forgets it.)

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Unfiltered Story #181163

, , , | Unfiltered | December 29, 2019

(I am standing behind the counter in our pharmacy, transferring money from the till into a bag when a wild customer appears…)

Customer: “Hi! Do you work here?”

A Signature Example Of Babying

, , , , , , | Learning | December 19, 2019

For eighth grade, I went to a Catholic school that babied the students. Every day, we were required to have our parents sign our notebooks. These notebooks held our daily grade, a little note about the day, and nothing else. If our parents didn’t sign it, the teacher would lecture us and call our parents. If the parents didn’t answer, they would hold us after school until our parents arrived to get us, even if you were a straight-A student with no discipline problems.

My mom knew I was an A and B student, and hated this policy. She did not care about signing the book at all. After the first few times, Mom just initialed it without reading it. My teacher seemed to accept the initials. I had As and Bs, after all.

I ended up forging mom’s initials half the time; we’d both forget and it was just easier.

One day, my mother received a nerve conduction study — the way I explained it, “the doctor shot electricity up her hand.” Her initials were super shaky that day. My teacher opened the book and accused me of forgery. “Of all the days,” I thought to myself. My teacher called the English/history and the math/science teacher, and they all had a loud whisper conversation where they discussed how “that wasn’t a real carpal tunnel test,” how weird it was that someone would initial the book, and how I’d been totally forging it from day one. They called my mother and told her that only a face-to-face meeting would suffice.

Mom was not happy. She explained the nerve conduction study better than I could, and told them how ridiculous their “nanny book” was for a good student. It became a rather heated affair.

In the end, the teachers demanded that she sign the book instead of just initialing, and I learned how to forge my mother’s full signature.

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Unfiltered Story #179768

, , , | Unfiltered | December 14, 2019

I work in a small franchised “specialty” shoe store. The area we’re in is the main tourist hub, right on the beach, but there also happens to be a rather large homeless population. Once in a while we have a problem transient and are forced to call security, but it’s been quiet since the beginning of the year.
Next to us is a jewelry shop; on my way back from the restroom I noticed an oddly thin woman standing in front of my store. Because the door to my shop was closed she decided to go into the jewelry shop. I unlock and open up, as I’m standing behind the counter I hear someone walk in.
“Aloha!” I greeted two bodies without looking up as I worked on the POS system.
Two women had entered the store, one in a blue dress, the other was the oddly thin woman. As the thin woman approached the counter I could detect a smell unique to the homeless in the area. I look up to greet her, I can smell her, and she coughs in my face.
“So, how much are these?” She pointed to the caddie full of lip balm.
“Oh, they’re about five dollars. They have sunscreen in them too.”
She coughed again, a wet nasty cough.
“So are you just fucking rude to homeless people or something?”
I looked at her, having been working on the register. I gather very quickly that our neighbors in the jewelry store had to ask her to leave.
“Sorry?”
“What’s your fucking problem with homeless people? Like, are they allowed to be in here?”
The woman leaned over the counter to a point where it would have made anyone uncomfortable.
“Totally, if you’re going to buy something.” I didn’t give her my full attention, just sort of answered her question and continued working on my register.
“Well FUCK THAT. Can’t just fucking stand in the store if I want to?”
The other woman, having heard the thin woman cursing, decides to bolt and leaves the store. The exact reason we don’t like it when vagrants hang around.
“No, sorry. You should leave, I’m calling security.”
The woman coughed in my face again, then turned and ran.

Got This Parenting Thing Licked

, , , , , | Right | November 11, 2019

(My coworker tells me this story almost immediately after it happened to her. A young boy comes up to her, silently sticking out his hand for her to shake. Bemused, she lets him take her hand and shake it. He stares wordlessly at her for several seconds while doing so, and then runs his tongue up her arm. His mother comes running up, mortified and apologizing.)

Mother: “I’m so sorry; he just saw The Boxtrolls in the theater.”

(My coworker hadn’t seen the movie, so after I got over my bout of shocked laughter, I confirmed that yes, the boy had been imitating the main character a little TOO closely.)

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