I place an order at a burger place and I use a coupon. The guy at the register enters it and he finishes off.

Cashier: “All right, your total is $7.49.”

Me: *Pauses* “No, it should be six bucks, plus tax.”

Cashier: “Yes, but—”

Me: “Wait, did I screw up the coupon? Or did it not go in right?”

Cashier: “No, it went in b—”

Me: “Then why is it a dollar more?!”

Cashier: “Because you upgraded to the large combo, sir. It’s six dollars for the small.”

I stare into space, gears slowly grinding to life in my brain.

Me: “I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually this stupid. Your soda machines are free refills, right? I think I need a lot of sugar and caffeine right now. I’m really sorry.”

Thankfully, the cashier got a bit of a laugh out of that and there were no hard feelings. I still apologized again, and after sitting down to eat and, yes, getting the sugariest and most caffeinated thing they had, was thinking much more clearly.

I’m very patient with people not necessarily knowing how to use a Point-of-Sale system. That being said, maybe listen to my instructions.

Customer: “This will be Tax Exempt.”

Contractors can get this status.

Me: “All right, what’s your information?”

As I’m inputting his information, he swipes his card early. When I hit “total,” it will jump straight to, “Is this amount correct?” and I can’t stop it unless he selects no. I hit “total” and the tax exempt status doesn’t apply like it should have.

Me: “Okay, so it looks like the tax exemption didn’t apply like it should have; could you please hit ‘no’?”

Customer: “Oh, sure thing.”

Me: “All right, thank you. Now I’m going to try and apply it again; please do not swipe your card until after I have confirmed the tax exemption is applied.”

Customer: “Got it.”

I try to apply the tax exemption and, sure enough, he swipes his card early… again. But surely, he won’t. Yes, before I can say, “Nope, it didn’t go through,” he has hit, “Yes, this amount is correct.” 

Customer: “Hey, wait a minute!”

He points at his receipt.

Customer: “This says I was charged tax! I wasn’t supposed to be charged tax!”

Me: “Which is why I asked you to not swipe early so that I could confirm it worked.”

Customer: “But you didn’t tell me not to the second time!”

I ended up having to send him to customer service to get his taxes refunded which, according to my coworker, led to him ranting about my “incompetence.”

I’m not sure what I could have done more to make him follow basic directions.

Related:
Taxing Taxing, Part 8
Taxing Taxing, Part 7
Taxing Taxing, Part 6
Taxing Taxing, Part 5
Taxing Taxing, Part 4

I work part-time at a tiny, tiny Asian food store. I have seen fast food restrooms that were bigger than our store. Still, we stock more than two-thousand products so customers often ask us where certain things are. That’s no big deal; if anything, we hold pride in our good customer service.

I’m alone in the shop, as mornings are usually calm during this particular season.

Me: “Good morning, how are you? Are you looking for something specific?”

Customer: “I need two cans and one package of coconut milk. It has to be organic!”

That’s one of our most popular products, so I easily show her where we keep our coconut milk. Most of them aren’t organic, though. I hold up the two organic packages we stock.

Me: “Which size do you need? 1L or 250ml?”

Customer: “Organic.”

Me: “These are both organic. How much do you need?”

Customer: “Organic!”

She doesn’t even look at me, but instead starts grabbing around where the cans are. My hands are still holding the two packages, so I can’t exactly help and point out which is the right can.

Customer: “Is this one organic?”

Me: “Yes, that’s the organic can.”

Customer: *A little annoyed* “You know, the other woman recognizes me and always gets my coconut milk before I can even ask for it.”

I almost reply that I must have been fortunate enough to not encounter her in my four months of working here, but I hold back and just smile. I’m surely going to remember her, too, so that next time I can flee into the back when she comes in.

I hold up the two packages again, since she still hasn’t looked at me properly.

Me: “So, which size do you need for the packages: 250ml or 1L?”

Customer: “ORGANIC!”

I really wonder why she needed help locating our coconut milk and identifying which of the three brands we have is the organic one, since she apparently comes in so often and always buys the same thing.

I’m leaving my current job, but I’m good friends with my boss and, from what I’ve heard, the guy taking my job has been pushed out of another department so he might not be the best. I’m doing all I can to hand over my tasks to my replacement.

However, this is a particularly easy task as he seems to know everything already!

Me: “This is important; the department manager will get all kinds of irate if it’s not done properly.”

Replacement: “Yeah, the report, I know.”

Me: “Oh, have you run it before in your previous department?”

Replacement: “No, but [Boss] told me about it.”

Me: “Okay… So, should I go through it?”

Replacement: “Nah, I got it.”

Me: “Okay. So, looking at the check sheet, either we’ve gone over everything or you’ve declined to, so we are done. I am happy to go through anything again that you’d like.”

Replacement: “Nah, I’ll be okay.”

Me: “Okay, great. Well, good luck!”

I email my boss with the list of everything I offered to go through and I let him know that I offered several times to go through things but was declined. I leave a few days later.

I get a missed call from my old boss a week after, so I call him back.

Me: “Hey, how is it going?”

Old Boss: “Just seeing how it’s going for you. Are you liking your new job?”

Me: “Well… it’s only been a week, so it’s hard to tell. How’s my replacement doing?”

Old Boss: “Well, not a great start; from what I can tell, he has done nothing at all. When I pulled him up on it, he tried to blame you!”

Me: “But I did go through everything with him. I sent you the list.”

Old Boss: “No, you did, and thanks. We will have to have a think about if we’ll keep him on. So no regrets about leaving?”

Me: “Sorry, I will let you know if I do.”

I never did go back, but I keep in touch with my old boss. The know-it-all turned out to have been a major pain in his last job, doing little but complaining lots. They eventually fired him and are struggling for a replacement.

I work for a dermatology office that is temporarily renting an office inside a cardiology company, and we even share a waiting room with one of their doctors. I’m used to their patients coming to my window, but most notice the signs around the window that notify everyone we are a dermatology office. I’m still baffled how this lady didn’t get the clue.

She comes up and taps on the glass, right on the sign that says, “Please Do Not Tap On Glass.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Lady: “I don’t understand some of this wording.”

She places a clipboard with cardiology new patient forms on it in front of me. 

Me: “Oh, I don’t—”

Lady: “What’s a triple bypass?”

Me: “You should probably—”

Lady: “Do I need to mark any surgeries, too? I haven’t had any. What do I mark here?”

Me: “I don’t know. I work for the derm—”

Lady: “How many of these do I need to mark here?”

Me: “I don’t know. This is—”

Lady: “And what is hypertension?”

Me: “High blood pressure. And this is the wrong office.”

Lady: “How do I know if I have high blood pressure?”

Me: “I think you need to ask the other window over there.”

Lady: “What’s a PCP?”

Me: *Sighs* “I don’t know.”

I do but I’m tired of being ignored.

Lady: “What about tachybradia?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Lady: “How do I find out if I had a tachybradia?”

Me: “I don’t know. This is [Doctor’s] office. Not cardiology.”

Lady: “Am I going to get a stress test today?”

Me: “I don’t know. This isn’t cardiology.”

Lady: “If I get a stress test, do I need my husband to do anything for me?”

Me: “I don’t know. This isn’t cardiology.”

Lady: “Why don’t you know anything?”

Me: “Because this isn’t the cardiology office.”

I point to the specialty sign for our office right in front of her. 

Lady: “Oh. I need to use the restroom. Let me in.”

Me: “Sure. Go to the second door and I’ll let you through.”

She walks over to the actual cardiology window instead so they can buzz her through. Since she forgot her paperwork, I carry it over to their window and explain that she has some questions.

Cardiology: “Yeah, we heard her from over here. You had more patience than we would have. How many times did she need to hear, ‘I don’t know,’ before she got a clue?”