Babysitting Is Just A Game To Them

, , , , | | Right | May 21, 2018

(Internet cafes are popular in our country with kids who want to play games in groups. A grandma comes in with her five-year-old grandson.)

Grandma: “Set him up for a five-hour package.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I don’t approve of that, since that much time in front of a PC is not good for a kid, but we don’t have a policy or law that would let me deny them. I set the PC for the kid. A few minutes later I see her leave. I am not able to stop her because I am assisting someone with her payment and the register is open. I just assume she went to the store next door and will be back quickly. A few minutes pass and she hasn’t returned yet. Around 30 minutes later, the grandson is already looking around for her and he looks scared. I ask one of the high-school kids around to check where she went. The grandson must have heard us and he runs outside looking for her! I run after him and am able to grab him when he’s about to cross the very busy road. I get him back in and he starts a tantrum and wails really loud, kicking those of us who tried to pick him up. The grandma comes back, angry at me for “not taking care of him.”)

Me: “We’re an Internet cafe, not a child care center.”

Grandma: *shouting and berating me in front of the customers* “Just let him play; he likes those games. I told you he’ll be here for five hours.”

Me: “He ran out and tried to cross the road. I can’t keep an eye on him. He doesn’t even know how to play the game you selected. I can’t sit by him to tutor him on how to play. I’m alone here.”

Grandma: “He tires me out. Just distract him.”

Me: “No. Take him.”

(The kid is still wailing on our floor, and the others are getting irritated with how loud he is and how he’s kicking anyone he wants to kick.)

Grandma: “In five hours!”

Me: “This is not a child care center!”

(I pick the kid up because he is in the middle of the store while grandma is at the door. He punches my jaw and lands a few kicks on me.)

Grandma: “Why can’t you take him?! I’m paying that package!”

Me: “The package doesn’t include a nanny.”

(I hand him over, his grandma still shouting at him and me, saying she wants that package. I cancel the transaction on his PC before she can drag him back to his rented PC, and shout for the next kid to take it.)

Me: “He’s crabby; take him home so he can sleep.”

(The kid was still crying, and there was no more PC where she can drop him, so she walked out with the kid. I had to pay for the package out of pocket. Getting rid of them was worth it.)

Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 10

, , , | | Right | May 21, 2018

(Our store has a few floors, and each floor has a counter with registers. Because we’re usually short-staffed on the upper floors, we only put people on the second and third floor registers when it’s really busy. I’m behind an empty register pricing some products.)

Customer: “Hey, can you ring me up?”

Me: “Oh, sorry, only on the first floor.”

Customer: “You know, you should really have a sign that tells me you’re closed!”

(I glance over to the three huge signs in front of every register that say, “REGISTER CLOSED.”)

Me: “Yeah, we probably should.”

(This happens every single day, without fail!)

Related:
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 9
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 8
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 7

No One Terrorizes Like Little Old Ladies

, , , , | | Working | May 18, 2018

(I am in the screening line for an international flight, LONG before 9/11. A little old lady goes through a metal detector, and sets off fourteen different kinds of alarms. She walks on as if nothing happened. The security guard looks at her and shrugs, shakes his head, and waves me to go through the metal detector. I pass with no alarms, and quickly catch up with the little old lady.)

Little Old Lady: *with a big smile* “Humph! He didn’t think I could be a terrorist, did he?!”

Cookie Duh

, , , | | Right | May 18, 2018

(I work in a small town where we essentially have every big-name fast food restaurant in existence. We constantly get customers coming in and trying to order things from these other restaurants. On this particular day, I am getting food for drive-thru when I hear this encounter on the headset.)

Coworker: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Um, yeah I’d like a cookie dough [Named Ice Cream Mix].”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, but we don’t carry cookie dough. We only carry M&M, Oreo, and Reese’s [Our Name Ice Cream Mix].”

Customer: “Well, I want cookie dough.”

(The customer then proceeded to drive off after figuring out we weren’t the right restaurant.)

This Time Is Not Be-Nine

, , , , | | Right | May 17, 2018

(A middle-aged couple comes to pick up their tickets at will-call. They move to the door to go in. It is locked, as doors are not open for another twenty minutes. They stare blankly at me through the window, as though expecting me to get up and let them in.)

Me: “Doors open at 8:00.”

Man: “Why? Why can’t we go in now?”

Me: “The doors don’t open until one hour before the show starts.”

Man: *appalled* “The show starts at nine?!

Me: “That’s correct.”

Man: “How was I supposed to know that?!”

Me: “It says the time right on your ticket.”

Man: *glances at ticket* “It doesn’t say the time on your website.”

Me: “Actually, it does.”

(The couple both stare blankly at me again. I take this to mean, “Prove it.” So, I look up the show on our website, turn my screen toward them, and point right to where it says the time of doors opening and the time of the show.)

Man: *handing the tickets back through the window* “Give the tickets to someone else.”

(They both walked off.)

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