Toasted

, , , | Right | September 30, 2008

(Within a few minutes of a family of four sitting down, the fire alarm goes off at our restaurant.)

Me: “Hello, folks, sorry for the terrible inconvenience. I’m sure everything will be cleared up here very soon.”

Customer: “Is this a joke?”

Me: “I assure you this isn’t a joke, unless you find it funny!” *laughs*

Customer: *deafening silence*

Me: “… but I also assure you that there is no fire.”

Customer: “I’d like to speak with a manager, please.”

Me: “Sorry, but my manager is very busy at the moment dealing with the fire department. The drinks are on the house. If you could just sit tight, we’ll be with you shortly.”

Customer: “You know it’s my son’s birthday, right?”

Me: *to son* “Oh! Happy birthday, buddy!”

(I jokingly slide the beer towards the son, which sets the customer off even more.)

Customer: “Get a manager over here, right now!”

(My manager tells me that there is a problem with the ovens that the fire department has to figure out, and that we have to evacuate the building.)

Me: “I’m sorry to inform you that the grills have been turned off and–”

Customer: “How can we order our food, then?”

Me: “Well… yeah, that’s the thing. We have to get everyone out of the building.”

Customer: “Excuse me? We don’t get to eat? It’s my son’s birthday. Is there anything you can do? We are very unhappy with this!”

Me: “Well, the fire department has ordered the evacuation, so I also have to leave the building.”

Customer: “It is my son’s birthday. He is turning 13. How often do people turn 13? Once! You have ruined my son’s only 13th birthday!”

Me: “Sorry, buddy, I hope you get everything you want for your birthday!”

Customer’s Son: “This was my birthday present and you ruined it!”

Customer: “What did you do on your 13th birthday?!”

Me: “…”

Customer: “NOTHING! BECAUSE YOU RUINED MY SON’S BIRTHDAY!”

Me: “My 13th birthday was eight years ago exactly.”

Customer: *confused*

Me: “How many times do you turn 21? Is this how you spent YOUR 21st birthday? GET OUT BEFORE I SET YOU ON FIRE!”

(It’s was a bitter-sweet birthday present: Leaving work five hours early, but with no money.)

 

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I’ll Have The Bacteria, Lettuce And Tomato

, , | Right | September 4, 2008

(I work in the deli of a very small grocery store. My co-worker has just walked out of the deli, leaving me in the back alone.)

Cashier: “Deli, you have a customer!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there. I was just washing my hands. Can I get you something?”

Customer: “I’ve been waiting here for TEN MINUTES.”

(I know for a fact that he couldn’t have been there for more than a minute, because my coworker had just walked out.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. Like I said, I didn’t know you were out here. I was in the back, washing my hands, and I can’t see you back there.”

Customer: “Well, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN OUT HERE. What were you doing in the back? Your job is to wait on customers!”

Me: “I WAS WASHING MY HANDS.”

Customer: “I don’t see why you should have to do that.”

Me: “Me neither, sir.”

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Playing Hide And Don’t Seek

, , , | Right | September 1, 2008

Bookstore customer: “Do you have the CD, Lord Lift Our Voices Up On High, Volume 11?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, we don’t have it. We do have Volumes 9 and 10. I can show you where they are.”

Customer: “No, no, I already have those. I like them. Do you have God Loves America, Volume 12?”

Me: “Let me check… yes! We have that one. I can show you.”

Customer: “Do you have God Loves America, Volume 11?”

Me: “Yes. I can show–”

Customer: “Do you have God Loves America, Volume 10?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer:Volume 9?”

Me: “Yes.”

(This continues until we get to Volume 3.)

Me: “Would you like to know about Volumes 1 and 2?”

Customer: “No, I have those. I like them. Have you heard them?”

Me: “No… so, let me just get these CDs for you.”

Customer: “No thanks.”

(I’ve been helping her for nearly 20 minutes, and suspect she has mental issues; thankfully, she goes away. Ten minutes later, I hear the same customer speak up loudly behind me.)

Customer: “Well, I don’t want to go to the doctor tomorrow, but they tell me I have to.”

Me: “Oh, uh, ehrm… yeah?”

Customer: “Yeah. Colonoscopy. I don’t want to, but they have to find out where the bleeding’s coming from.”

Me: *whimpers*

(At this point, I leave the music department and hide between the far right security sensor and a book display just outside it. The store manager walks by and sees me.)

Manager: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Hiding from a customer who was telling me about her upcoming colonoscopy! She says they have to find out where the bleeding’s coming from!”

Manager: “You can stay.”

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Why Don’t You Call The Cops On ‘Em

, , | Right | August 30, 2008

(The number to our police department is only one digit off from a doctor’s office, so we often get wrong numbers.)

Me: “Police Department.”

Caller: “My doctor wrote a prescription for me for an X-ray and I need to make an appointment.”

Me: “Okay, and how can the police department help you?”

Caller: “Police department?! I was calling Dr. [Name]’s office! How DARE you answer his phone!”


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Flattery, The Best Medicine

, , , | Healthy Right | August 26, 2008

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(An elderly lady falls down in her apartment and has a cut on her wrist.)

Coworker: “Ma’am, I am afraid, we have to go to the hospital. You will need stitches for that cut and an X-ray to make sure your wrist isn’t broken.”

Patient: “No, I don’t wanna go. Just give me a shot and it will be okay.”

Coworker: “You mean for the pain?”

Patient: “No, so it will heal!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, I’m afraid we don’t have this kind of medication.”

Patient: “But it worked last time!”

Coworker: “Someone gave you a shot and the wrist healed by itself?”

Patient: “No, my sugar was too high and they gave me a shot and everything was okay!”

Coworker: “I see… Well, I can’t fool you; you know this stuff! Listen, I can give you a shot for the broken wrist, but this counteracts the anti-sugar medicine. So every time your sugar is too high, you can never get a shot again.”

Patient: “Never ever?”

Coworker: “Never ever again…”

Patient: “So why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

Coworker: “Well, not every patient has such an understanding of medicine as you, so I always try to keep it simple.”

Patient: “Okay, then let’s go to the hospital.”

Coworker: “Gladly.”


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