Targeting The Wrong Worker

, | CA, USA | Right | September 20, 2016

(While I typically don’t, my sisters and mother-in-law like to go do the Black Friday sales after Thanksgiving every year and they’ve invited me to join them. Since I enjoy bonding with them, I decide to go. I am wearing a red t-shirt. We’re currently in a [Popular Retail Chain], where the employees wear blue, and I’m looking at some sport-themed blankets when another customer comes to stand by me.)

Customer: “Hmmm…”

Me: *still looking*

Customer: *loudly clears throat*

Me: *glances at her before going back to looking*

Customer: “Excuse me, I need to find [Item].”

Me: “Oh… ma’am, I don’t work here.”

Customer: “But you’re wearing red…”

(She finally gets a good look at my shirt, which has a ninja on the front.)

Customer: “I’m not in Target anymore, am I?”

Me: “No… No, you’re not.”

Went On A Jurassic Lark

, , , , , , , | Right | January 3, 2014

(I work at a geology museum. A woman and her son, who looks about five, walk in. The boy is entranced by the mammoths, dinosaurs, and marine reptile skeletons on display. The mother looks unimpressed, and is on the phone for most of her stay. Since the building is kept at a pleasant temperature, she drops her heavy coat off with me at the front desk. Later, I spot her heading for the exit.)

Me: “I hope you had a good time at our museum. Did you have any questions before you go?”

Mother: “I’m not interested in your stupid dinosaurs.”

(She heads for the elevator, which is around a corner. I assume she has her child waiting there, since I can’t see him in the rest of the museum. Three hours later, I see her son wandering around the displays, looking lost. I rush over to him.)

Me: “Hey, buddy. What are you doing here?”

Son: *in the most heartbroken voice ever* “Have you seen mommy? I fell asleep.”

Me: “I saw her a little while ago, bud. Why don’t you have a seat over here? Do you have your mom’s phone number, or a way to contact her?”

(Fortunately, he has a list of emergency-contact numbers in a tiny wallet. I call the one labeled ‘Mom’ in blue crayon, after giving him some paper and colored pencils.)

Mother: “Who is this?!”

Me: “This is [My Name], from [Museum]. We have—”

Mother: “You d*** well better ship me my coat, you b****! That’s a $500 coat, and I’m already on the other side of the state!”

Me: “You also left your son here, ma’am. And I don’t have a box in his size.”

Mother: *after a brief pause* “You son of a b****! You should have told me I left my kid behind! It’s going to take me five f****** hours to get back there!”

(I decided to end the call, and instead called the police department. The mother stormed in a little over four hours later, long after the museum was supposed to be closed. She had a nice long conversation with child-care services. Her son gave me a hug and thanked me for staying with him. I still have his drawing of a plesiosaur.)

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A Gross Grocery Error

, , , , , | Right | January 2, 2014

(The customer in front of me is dropping off a prescription. She’s on her phone.)

Customer: “…and then can you pick up [Child] from school, or do you want me— Hang on, I’m at the front of the line.” *to pharmacist* “Here’s my prescription, ID, insurance data. Need anything else?”

Pharmacist: “Just give me a minute to read through this.”

Customer: *on phone* “So, anyway, about the groceries. Why is taking—”

Pharmacist: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Oh, hang on.” *to pharmacist* “Sorry, I know it’s rude to talk on the phone, but—”

Pharmacist: “No, no. Your prescription. It says ‘cheese, yogurt, chunky peanut butter.'”

(There is a pause.)

Customer: *on phone* “I think I know why it’s taking you so long at the grocery store.”

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Making The Teacher Get The Picture

, , | Learning | December 2, 2013

(I am seven years old. As part of a Father’s Day assembly our class has painted pictures of our fathers to show. For some reason, however, there was a mix-up with my painting and another girl’s. The girl is ill on the day of the assembly, and I’m given her painting.)

Me: “Mrs. [Teacher], this isn’t mine. This is [Other Girl’s] painting.”

Teacher: “It’s yours. It has your name on it.”

(I turn it over and look. My name is there, but in the teacher’s handwriting.)

Me: “But it’s not mine. That one’s mine.”

(I point to my painting, and go to pick it up. The teacher snatches it away.)

Teacher: “No! That’s not yours to take!”

Me: “But it’s mine!”

(I start to cry; my father has come all the way from his work in London to see this assembly, and I wanted to show him the painting. The teacher, irritated, calls my mum in. After the teacher explains to her what has happened, my mum takes one look at the painting which is supposedly mine.)

Mum: “That’s not her painting.”

Teacher: “Look, being a good parent means understanding that your child isn’t always right—”

Mum: “Yes, but being a good parent also means knowing what my daughter’s artwork is like. I also know this isn’t hers because that is NOT what her father looks like!”

(My mum is right: in this painting, the father has brown hair and a long beard. While my father has brown hair, he is always clean shaven. The kicker is that my teacher has MET my father before, so knows this. She looks stunned.)

Mum: “Furthermore, you have made my daughter cry over YOUR mistake. I’m angry, but pray her father doesn’t hear about this.”

Teacher: “…I apologize.”

(My teacher hurriedly handed me my painting. What’s more, the entire class was watching, and they all immediately spoke up that their paintings have been muddled up, too. They’d been too afraid to speak out. With my mum watching the entire time, the teacher hurriedly solved the problems.)

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Thank God For Better Halves, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | November 18, 2013

(We’re running a buy two, get one free promotion in our store, but you must have a membership to qualify. The membership is free. A customer and his wife approach the counter with only two games.)

Me: “Sir, do you have a membership card?”

Customer: “I don’t want no card.”

Me: “The only reason I ask is because members can get—”

Customer: “No, stop trying to sell me something.”

Me: “Sure, sir, I just thought you might want a free game today with our free membership. Your total is [amount].”

(Suddenly, the customer’s wife smacks him with her purse.)

Customer’s Wife: “Will you shut your mouth and listen to her?!” *to me* “YES, we want a free game. Thank you!”

 

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