When You Need Gallons Of Restraint

, , , | Right | November 26, 2020

I work in the paint department of a hardware store. A customer starts with the generic “Which one is the best stain?” question and gets impatient when I can’t immediately point at a product, as it really depends what you want the finished product to look like. He then questions every single facet of what I try to tell him, to the point of reading product information off the cans to try and find out the exact information I just gave him. I’m proven right every time, but he’s getting more and more agitated.

I’ve finally got him settled on a product.

Customer: “How much will this cover?”

Me: “Usually 350 to 400 square feet per can, depending on your wood.”

Customer: “What the heck? I’m going to need like $800 worth of this crap. I’m not paying that!”

This product is about $60 a can, so this really surprises me.

Me: “Really? How big of an area are you doing?”

Customer: “I’ve got a big deck, it’s probably twenty by twenty-five. And there’s another area that’s eight by twelve. Christ, I thought I’d only need two cans for this.”

He turns away from me and starts muttering. For the next part of the conversation, it’s pretty clear he’s not actually listening to what I’m saying.

Me: “So you have two decks?”

Customer: “No! Just one!” *Muttering*

Me: “Is there a fence?”

Customer: “No, I’m not paying that much for this crap. What a rip off.”

Me: “Because… if that’s all you’re doing, you’re only looking at about two gallons.”

Customer: “That’s what I was hoping, but there’s no way I’m going to cover the deck with that.”

Me: “Well, a twenty-by-twenty-five section is about 500 square feet, and an eight-by-twelve is about a hundred, so—”

Customer: “No. What a rip off.”

Me: “What?”

He starts muttering, which I can’t hear but later figure out is him trying to section his deck out to get approximate measurements, because the next thing he says to me that I can clearly make out is:

Customer: “Five by ten is 500—”

Me: “What? No! Five by ten is fifty.”

Customer: “So I’ll need four sections of that across, which is eight gallons—”

Me: “No! Five by ten is fif-ty.”

He pauses, pulls his phone out, and calculates it out on a calculator. He then immediately calms down like I’ve thrown some kind of switch.

Customer: “Oh, you’re right. So, you say I’ll need about two gallons of this?”

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Unfiltered Story #216058

, , | Unfiltered | November 22, 2020

I was out for lunch during this event. A service manager was cutting wire for a customer. Somehow during the cutting, he cuts his finger severely. He gets it covered quickly and goes to the hospital to be treated. Luckily, as there were no damaged tendons or bones, all he needed were some stitches and a brace to hold his finger still while he heals.
The big irony? This accident happened a few minutes prior to the monthly safety team meeting.

Boris Returns And Things Get Heavy

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 20, 2020

A lot of people don’t realise how laidback Aussies can be, and when it comes to tradies (tradespeople), a lot of foreign friends look shocked at some stories. For us, it’s almost like meeting new mates in the pub when tradies are called in for backyard work. It’s raw entertainment; you learn new skills and you meet some of the best humoured people that way.

Two of my housemates are hanging out on the back patio debating checking out a new movie that had recently dropped, looking up session times on their smartphones. Halfway through the ticket ordering process, a tall, well-built tradie leans over the back fence. This fence isn’t short by any means, so the tradie is huge! He calls out to my housemates in a strong Russian accent, letting them know they’re about to bring a rotting tree down on the fence line.

No worries. My housemates offer assistance and the tradie laughs politely.

Tradie: “Nah, ve should have this vun easy. Thanks, though, sorry for noise!”

My housemates go back to ordering their tickets.

Housemate #2: “So, we have a time now. Where did you want to sit? I usually go for the middle back but I’m happy to sit anywhere. I know your glasses might make being under the projector a little… Hey, [Housemate #1], you okay?”

Housemate #1: “Hmm? Oh, sorry. I just have a feeling we should hold off for a bit.”

[Housemate #1] stares intently at the back fence, the roar of a chainsaw coming from the other side. [Housemate #2] shrugs and starts scrolling on social media, looking up intermittently to see that [Housemate #1] is still fixated on the back fence.

Housemate #2: “You worried about leaving while the neighbour’s tree is being dropped?”

Housemate #1: “Not really. Our fence could do with replacing. I’m kinda hoping it falls wrong.”

Housemate #2: *Laughs* “Yeah. I doubt we will be so lucky, though; those guys seem to know what they’re doing.”

[Housemate #1] just huffs in agreement. We have a really non-active real estate and things have to be either totally dead or dangerous for them to act on any repair orders. Having a tree fall on the patchy, rotted-out, half-fallen-over-already fence would be like winning the lottery.

About twenty minutes later, [Housemate #1] is losing hope and pulls up the tickets on their phone again, hovering over the buy button when [Housemate #2] starts excitedly tapping her arm and points at the top of the tree being removed. It’s starting to tilt, but not in the direction it should be.

[Housemate #1] drops the phone and starts chanting quietly.

Housemate #1: “Let it fall, let it fall, let it fall…”

[Housemate #2] joins, and they start chanting louder and louder until a startled cry goes up from the neighbours’ side.

Tradie: “SCATTER!”

The tree collapses with an almighty crash, right on top of the dilapidated fence. My housemates both let out a loud cheer, [Housemate #1] even flinging her coffee mug up in a concert salute.

(People drinking at concerts tend to do this a LOT in Australia, so if you’re near someone with a drink in-hand and the band announces an album hit coming up next, you find another location to stand if you want to avoid the splash zone.)

So now, both housemates are covered in cold coffee, [Housemate #1] is still cheering while [Housemate #2] is tangled in their chair from trying to dodge the downpour, the neighbours to our right’s dog is going ballistic, and a couple of screams come from the house on our other side.

Silence descends for a second or two, and then the huge Russian tradie appears over the ruins of the fence, scratching his head and looking rather sheepish.

Tradie: “Ve thought ve vere strong; ve vere wrong.”

The real estate replaced the fence, my housemates never got round to seeing their movie, the neighbour’s were horrified, and the property manager was subjected to repeated, terrible attempts at the tradie’s one-liners during the damages appraisal and incident report.

That was the fastest repair order to ever be done on that house.

Related:
Ivan, Cousin To Boris, Fights Scammers, Too
Boris Delivers When Boris Feels Like It
Boris Can See Through You
Boris Now Fights Scammers
Leave The Accents To Boris
Boris Need No Warranty; Boris IS Warranty!


This story is part of our Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Read the next story in the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Read the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

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It Never Sticks

, , , | Right | November 18, 2020

I mix paint and this keeps happening. 

Me: “Here’s your paint! Do you need any sticks or openers?”

Customer: “No, thank you.”

A moment passes.

Customer: “Could I have one of those sticks?”

Me: “Sure! Would you like an opener, as well?”

Customer: “Yes, please.”

This has happened across genders, ages, ethnicities, and levels of English-speaking skill. I have no idea what they think I’m asking.

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Unable To Engineer A Solution, Part 2

, , , , | Right | November 17, 2020

I work customer service at an international hardware chain, so I see a lot of different customers: plumbers, electricians, general contractors… you see where I’m going with this. Most of my customers are pleasant, but there are some that have that air of “I know better than you” about them.

This customer walks in with a pretty beat-up case of flooring in a cart.

Customer: “I found this on the side of the road. It looks like it must’ve fallen out of someone’s car; can you see if you can find out who?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but there’s no way for me to look up specifically who bought it; however, we’d be happy to keep it up here in case the customer returns for it!”

Customer: “Nah, you can look it up. I’m an engineer and I know there’s a way in your system to look it up.”

I’m dumbfounded at this point. Being an engineer does NOT give you knowledge of how our computer systems work.

Me: “Sir, we have no way of knowing who bought it or even when. Our system does not let us do th—”

Customer: *Interrupting* “Don’t tell me you can’t! I’m an engineer! I know you have a way of looking that up! Can I speak to your manager?”

I’m already fed up with his holier-than-thou attitude at this point, so I call over my direct supervisor.

Supervisor: “How can I help you, sir?”

The customer repeats the spiel about finding it on the side of the road.

Supervisor: “I don’t have any way of looking that up, sir, especially since it’s general merchandise; the system will only tell us the last purchase date. We don’t keep a record of who specifically buys what.”

Customer: “Yes, you can! I’m an engineer! I know you can look it up!”

Supervisor: *Deadpan* “No. We can’t, sir. Our systems will not allow us to look it up.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I’m an engineer. I know you have some way of doing it in your system! You just don’t want to do it!”

Supervisor: “Sir, if there were any way for me to do it, I would. Since this was found on the side of the road, it’s basically yours at this point.”

Customer: “I don’t want it. I want you to find out who lost it!”

My supervisor gives up at this point, walks to one of our computers, and types in the merchandise SKU to prove that the only thing our system shows us is when it was purchased last, which was about two weeks ago.

Customer: “Oh… so, you really can’t look it up? Can I leave my name and number so you can contact me if the person returns for it?”

Supervisor: “Not sure what good that’ll do, sir, but go ahead.”

The customer leaves his name and number and exits looking satisfied. My supervisor looks at the paper, throws it out, and turns to me.

Supervisor: “Twelve years of experience between me and you, and just because he’s an engineer, he thinks he knows better.”

No one ever came in for the flooring.

Related:
Unable To Engineer A Solution

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