Unfiltered Story #187757

, | Unfiltered | March 4, 2020

(I’m cashiering at a big supermarket, it’s past 8pm and i’m due to close my register soon. A lady comes to my register and she is what we would commonly describe as a b***h. She also sounds a bit stupid, and has a lot of things, including cleaning products and expensive food products. I’m a little way into scanning her items, but she’s been nasty from the start.)
Her: It’s already [amount]? Just this stuff?
Me: Well, that’s how it rings up.
Her: This can’t be right, are you sure you haven’t scanned something twice?
Me: No ma’am, you can see right here.
Her: There must be something wrong. This stuff doesn’t cost so much.
Me: I can add it up for you manually just to check.
*I proceed to add it all up with my calculator, it’s correct. I continue scanning*
Her: This can’t be right. We’ll look through all this after you’ve finished.
Me, losing my patience, as I’m supposed to be closing and i still have a line of people: YOU can do what you like. I however, will finish your transaction, continue with my job, and then go home.
Her: I don’t give a f**k what YOU do, I meant Customer Services!

Not Trying To Be A (Buda)Pest

, , , , | Right | January 10, 2020

About six years ago, I went on a family vacation to Budapest on Portugal’s flag carrier. This happened on the flight back home.

After climbing for about fifteen or twenty minutes, the Captain made an announcement.

“Hello. Unfortunately, we will have to return to Budapest to pick up some passengers who did not board. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

We turned back, landed twenty or so minutes after the announcement, and taxied to a gate only for the doors to open and a four-member family to board. They were not famous and they were not important; they were a family on vacation in Budapest, just like mine.

Later on, we found out they made a mistake and entered the wrong bus, saw our plane depart, and spoke to the bus driver who passed the information along for everyone to coordinate the return of the aircraft and boarding of the passengers. It was nice to see that, for a change, an airline didn’t have a “Your mistake, your problem, buy a new ticket, we won’t waste our money with fees and fuel” attitude, but were rather truly interested in getting all their passengers from A to B.

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Judge Me By My Size, Do You?

, , , , , | Learning | January 5, 2020

When I was in the third year in high school, a Muay Thai group gave a special presentation on our sport orientation day. Along with two other guys from my school, I found them exciting and cheap enough to try and join. This group was mostly made up of legal adults, soldiers, and police, in fact, but they were accommodating enough. All three of us could join from next week. 

The club had training thrice a week, two hours. The other two from my school guys were a year older than me, and a lot bigger; the difference was mostly made up of fat, but it was still enough that they could bully me.

We started training; the first two lessons, despite the other two pestering me, were good. Then, the third time came.

This was the first time a girl came into the studio. She was tiny, maybe 90 pounds, and five feet tall. She looked like she was around our age, with spiky short hair and a suit and boots. I thought it was strange, but the group behaved as if they knew her, so I didn’t dare to say anything. The other two guys from my school started catcalling her, though, which got ignored. The girl simply changed into training clothes, and we started the lesson.

My schoolmates were pestering her, the only girl in the class, giving her advice on basics and telling her this was a manly sport; she never answered, just concentrated on breathing. She took a break twice, in fact, prompted by the coach, once using an inhaler. Then, at the body touch exercise, those other two guys crossed a line; they were quite blatant about trying to grope the girl. She mostly just evaded, and as she never said anything, just like any of the guys, my schoolmates started to get braver and braver, harassing the girl.

Then came the fighting part. The coach said, “Okay, [Boy #1], [Boy #2], [My Name], get into the ring with [Girl]. She is a beginner just like you. One by one matches, two minutes, everyone goes a round against [Girl]. Keep to the rules.”

The boys started leering, and I started to get a bad feeling. I let the other guys go before me, and the coach went over the hits with me… I don’t exactly know what happened, but only maybe half a minute passed with the sound of hits, then a loud bam! I looked up, and the bigger bully was on his back, gasping for breath, the girl apologising with a grin. She had somehow knocked out the guy twice her size in half a minute!

The second bully only lasted the same time against the girl before he fled the ring. I was the last, and I went down even faster. I was trembling the whole time! It was surreal! I could barely believe how easily she’d knocked those two out! The tiny girl was not even so tiny; she was well over 110 pounds, it turned out, merely thin.

The other two guys didn’t come next week. I did, and I lasted until I left for university.

And that is how I met the woman who inspired me to get into disaster management. She was actually well over thirty, and started Muay Thai training a year before. She had some kind of lung damage from the job, but it turned out not to diminish her fighting prowess. While she couldn’t keep up against the coaches or the prizefighters training there, she could sure kick the a**es of three newbies!

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Never Too Old To Fly High

, , , | Hopeless | April 28, 2019

(The main building in the Military Memorial Park has several modern exhibits, amongst them one about aviation. I’m on duty in that station in this day, manning the MIG-29 simulator. The day is slow, and I’m starting to get bored, when a sweet old couple walks in. The husband looks at the simulator, which consists of a real cockpit with the booby-hatch from a MIG-27 plane, and a control panel in front of a big screen, and cheers up.)

Old Gentleman: “Honey, look at this! This seems like just the real deal! And I suppose you, young miss, are the pilot? You will take us on a journey?”

Me: *smiling* “Almost, sir. I will assist you, but you will be the one piloting! I’m just a navigator for you. Would you like to take a seat? Or you, ma’am?”

Old Lady: “Can we both try it? Is it even possible for old farts like us to do this?”

Me: “But of course! Fun has no age limits!”

Old Gentleman: “And what happens if we fail? Will we crash and die?”

Me: “No, sir, I’d never let it! You see, I can operate the catapult here, so if I see that you are in danger, we just leave the plane… Would you like to try it?”

Old Lady: “I think I will die from happiness! This is fantastic! Let me try!”

(They both tried it, screaming in childish glee, admiring the game’s realistic view, and generally behaving like kids in a candy shop. They both failed the mission first, but as it was a slow day, I confirmed with the receptionist and let them play with the simulator as long as they wanted, helping them using the controls. After a while, both of them managed to safely land — not an easy feat for anyone! They were really nice and genuinely happy, really cheering me up. Even just dealing with them already made my day, but later they came back with sweets and a small pendant for me. They insisted I have them, and the old lady even gave me a hug!)

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Lost In Their Own Translation

, , , | Right | April 24, 2019

(I am a freelance translator working from home. I translate documents in the French-English language pair — English to French and vice-versa — and don’t work with other languages. One day I receive a message from a regular customer.)

Customer: “Hi. Are you available to translate a new document?”

Me: “Hi! Sure, what do you need?”

Customer: “I need to get a 4000-word document translated from Dutch to French within the next twelve hours. I need you to use Google Translate and fix all the errors for a perfect translation.”

(I don’t speak a single word of Dutch.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but don’t you mean English to French? I’m afraid I don’t speak Dutch.”

Customer: “No, it’s okay. I just need you to use Google Translate to translate it from Dutch to French, and correct the mistakes in French for a perfect translation. Get it?”

Me: “Sorry, I think you’re going to have to ask someone who speaks Dutch; I can’t provide you with a quality translation if I don’t speak the source language.”

Customer: “Oh. Okay, then. Bye!”

(If it was so easy to translate a document and get a quality result, nobody would need professional translators!)

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