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That’s Not At All Vague Or Creepy

, , , , , | Working | September 3, 2020

I’ve worked in this department store for several years, and I have had a number of customers approach me with “job offers” after I finish helping them. I’ve just ordered an item to be delivered to a young woman since the one in stock had a small defect.

Me: “That should arrive within two weeks, and here’s a copy of your order slip. Can I help you with anything else?”

Customer: “Just that, thank you. You do great customer service.”

Me: “Thank you!”

Cue the red flag that a lot of these people use.

Customer: “Are you satisfied with your job here?”

Me: “I enjoy it, yes. My hours are pretty flexible, so I can change them when my college schedule changes.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. Well, I was really impressed by your customer service, so if you wanted to earn more money, I’d love to give your number to my bosses. They’re not really hiring right now, but if I tell them about you I’m sure they’d consider it.”

Me: “For what kind of job?”

Customer: “Selling.”

Me: “Selling what?”

Customer: “Assets.”

Me: “What does the company do?”

Customer: “It sells assets to people.”

Me: “What kind of assets?”

Customer: “Assets.”

Me: “…”

As “tempting” as that was, I stuck it out with the store and got a new job by finishing my degree.

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Please Sub This Employee For Someone Competent

, , , , , | Working | June 29, 2020

I am third in line at a popular US sandwich shop. A man, [Customer #1], and a lady, [Customer #2], are in front of me. This particular place — not the chain, just this location — isn’t known for its speediness so I am very glad there isn’t a long line.

[Customer #1] orders a BMT. A new girl, [Employee #1], has to ask her manager what meats those are, but she eventually gets it.

Another employee, [Employee #2], a male in his twenties, skips [Customer #2] and asks what I want. I point to [Customer #2] and tell him to help her first. She orders two sandwiches; he gets the meat wrong on one of them and fixes it, all the time trying to get my attention and ask where I work, etc. He puts one of her sandwiches in the toaster and he starts working on mine.

[Customer #1] needs another sandwich, just a simple meatball and cheese, so the girl starts working on that. Finally, after it gets toasted, it gets moved up to in front of the veggies, but for some reason it’s not packed up and the customer just stands there waiting to pay. 

Meanwhile, [Customer #2]’s sandwich has been in the toaster way too long and is burned. She requests a replacement sandwich after the flirty guy just scrapes the charred blackness onto the sandwich. He keeps the meat and places fresh bread under the meat and tries to toast it. [Customer #2] again tells him no, that won’t work; she needs a completely new sandwich. He remakes it, messing up again on her meat order, finally gets it right, and puts hers and mine on the toaster tray.

I tell him to take mine off and he does, and then puts it back on. I tell him, “No, take mine off, and please finish both of their sandwiches before continuing to make mine.”

All this time, [Customer # 1]’s toasted meatball sandwich is still not wrapped up and is sitting — now cold — on the counter. [Customer #1] is finally able to pay and leave after new girl almost gives him one of [Customer #2]’s sandwiches.

I start thinking we’re finally getting somewhere. They start working on the veggies on mine, and [Employee #2] starts talking with the supervisor on duty who has stepped behind the till just to help the line move real quick — she was on her lunch — and he starts arguing with her on the best way to ring up [Customer #2].

That finally gets resolved while the rest of us customers stand around awkwardly and the supervisor leaves because she’s just fed up with how he was telling her off in front of everyone. When he gets to the last ingredient on my sandwich, oregano, and I’m excited to just get out of this place. The top of the container falls off and the entire contents of the jar are emptied onto my sandwich.

[Employee #2] tries to laugh it off and say, “Wasn’t that funny? I thought that was funny; don’t you think so? That’s never happened before. Jeez, that was hilarious.”

By this time, everyone in the line is rolling our eyes at each other and thinking, “Oh, my God, can this get any worse? Can you believe this?”

I go back to the beginning of the line to have my sandwich remade and I watch him carefully as he’s made at least three significant mistakes already. He doubles two of the meats on my BMT –the Sub of the Day — and it is intentional; he has no idea how much meat is supposed to be on it. But there is no way I am going to tell him otherwise at this point.

He leaves my sandwich and [Employee #1] finishes it. She does an amazing job. [Employee #2] rings me up, all the time talking about how people were giving [Employee #1] a hard time — no one was — and how she just needed to do it at her pace and she’d get it done. I was more thinking that he needed the help, not her.

Then, I notice before I pay that he’s rung me up for the full price; as the Sub of the Day, my sandwich should be almost two dollars cheaper than that. I tell him that, and he’s like, “What’s the Sub of the Day?”

It’s 7:30 pm by this time; they close in less than two hours. You’d think he would know what it was by now. But, I finally get my extra-meat sandwich for the correct price and practically run out of the shop.

It took them thirty minutes for two people to make four sandwiches correctly, and the person on her first day completed more sandwiches and they were done correctly than the “experienced” guy who was supposed to train her.

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As If Pregnancy Wasn’t Stressful Enough!

, , , , , , , , | Friendly | May 20, 2020

After a job contract is up, we’re moving back home from Honolulu to Seattle. My husband is wrapping up the last bit of work in Hawaii while I fly home with our two-and-eight-ninths kids. That is, I’m a couple of days away from being thirty-six weeks pregnant, nearing the end of the time airlines and obstetricians like pregnant women flying. I’m very excited to get back home.

But it seems like everything is working against it. Part of the highway is closed to film an episode of Hawaii 5-0. The line to check in is way longer than anticipated. And there’s a line to check that we’re not exporting exotic flora. And there’s a huge line for security. At the end of this line, I accidentally leave a carry-on bag, not realizing until I’m halfway to the gate, so I have to go back. And of course, my husband was unable to get a gate escort pass, so he can’t help.

I end up running as fast as an eight-month-pregnant woman can, pushing my two-year-old in a stroller laden with carry-on bags, dragging my four-year-old, both kids crying, my glasses slipping down my nose from sweat; it’s hot in Hawaii, and our trek includes an outdoor walkway. 

Fortunately, the plane crew knows we’ve checked in and a flight attendant is holding the door for us; they close it as soon as we’re through.

Out of breath and flushed, we make it to our seats, where the flight attendant and the passenger in the last of the four-seat middle row kindly help us stow our carry-ons and fold up the stroller. I notice the passenger’s eyes get big as he sees my obvious pregnancy bump.

“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “I still have a month to go, and my older two weren’t early. I have no labor symptoms, even after running through the airport, and I really, really want to get back to the mainland. If I start labor, I’m crossing my legs until it’s too late to turn back.” His relief is palpable!

We make it back with no new passengers arriving, and a flight attendant even helps me from our arrival gate to baggage claim where my parents meet us. I get her name and let her supervisor know.

My youngest is born three weeks later, well after my husband has rejoined us.

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Shoplifting The Prices

, , , , , | Right | March 11, 2020

(I’m working at a popular department store in the women’s clothing section. It’s one of our busy winter sales, and I’ve been walking the floor assisting customers. I notice my coworker at the register has been dealing with the same woman for a while, and I go over to see if I can help.)

Customer: “It’s supposed to be a $28.99 Morning Special! There was a sign!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that’s not what it’s scanning at, and I need to verify it before I can adjust the price.” *noticing me approaching* “[My Name], can you go find this item on the floor for me?”

(The customer has a $149 winter coat, which is ringing up on sale at $89.99. There’s absolutely no way we’re selling this coat for thirty dollars.)

Me: “I can go check the sign for you, ma’am. Where did you get it from?”

(The customer leads me back to a clothing rack, which does indeed say, “$28.99 Morning Special,” on one end of it. It also says, “[Brand] Knit Sweaters,” right below that, in a font of the same size. The rack itself is filled with that brand’s sweaters, except on the far side where there are two more of the same winter coats hanging on the end.)

Customer: “See?! Right here!”

Me: “Ma’am, it looks like another customer was looking at these coats and just left them here.”

Customer: “But they’re on this rack! It says, ‘28.99 Morning Special’!”

Me: “Yes, but it also says it’s for [Brand] knit sweaters. I apologize for the confusion; I’ll move the coats back where they came from.”

(The customer scowls and storms off, and I see her back at the register arguing that she should get an exception for the $28.99 price. I beckon for a supervisor, and when the woman sees her coming she quiets down and scuttles away. I tell the supervisor what happened, and she nods after the retreating customer.)

Supervisor: “A few years ago, she used to shoplift from us. I guess she finally got a job.”

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A Huge Jolt Of Positive Energy

, , , , , | Right | March 9, 2020

(I didn’t start drinking coffee until college because I never liked the taste, and like Jon Snow, I knew nothing about it. I have a [Fast Food Company] free drink coupon, and I decide to try a mysterious something called a “mocha frappe.” It is diluted enough that I can drink it, and it gives me a huge jolt of jittery energy. I start drinking them once in a while for an energy boost, but in a few years, this magical elixir loses its power and just gives me a sugar crash. Picture me, one morning, dragging my weary carcass through the doors of the popular coffee chain near my school, and up to the counter.)

Me: *hoarsely* “Um… I don’t really know what the different drinks are, and I don’t really like the taste of coffee. But I just pulled an all-nighter, my presentation is in twenty minutes, and mocha frappes don’t work for me anymore. Can you help?”

Barista: “Hey, no worries. I got you!”

(She flits around behind the counter, whips up a drink, and hands it to me.)

Barista: “Here, try this. Can you drink it?”

Me: *taking a sip, eyes widening* “Yeah!”

Barista: “Great! That’s a tall iced coffee with milk, four pumps of sweetener, and an espresso shot. I’ll write that down so you know what to ask for.”

(I thank her profusely, pay for my drink, and head for the doors while she cheers behind me.)

Barista: “You’ll do awesome on your presentation! You got this!”

(Best barista ever.)


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