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Easily Cheesed Off

, , , , , | Right | January 10, 2022

I work in a grocery store deli. I’m hard of hearing, but I manage to make up for it a bit with lip-reading. In this age of masks, this is cut off. I have to sometimes ask people to speak up or speak more slowly. Some people take serious offense to that. This particular lady seems to take offense to any request for clarification.

Me: “Hello, may I help you?”

The lady mumbles something behind her mask.

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Customer: *Snapping* “I said I want a half-pound of cheddar!”

We have multiple brands and levels of sharpness.

Me: “Which—”

Customer: *Cutting me off* “I want a half-pound of cheddar!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Wh—”

Customer: *Cutting me off again* “I WANT A HALF-POUND OF CHEDDAR!”

I gave up at this point and gave her the store brand. Surprisingly, she was content with this and flounced off with her cheddar and not another word.

Top Shelf Confusion

, , , , | Right | January 4, 2022

My mom and I are both very short: she’s about 5’2″ and I’m 5’0″. We go to a local retail chain, and she is looking for tampons in a specific brand. The only one we can find in that brand is on the very top shelf, where neither of us can reach, and the shelf is too unstable to climb. We turn to the nearby employee for help.

Employee: “Can I help you two?”

Mom: “Hi. Can you grab a ladder or a taller employee to reach those tampons for us?”

Employee: “Certainly, just wait right here and I will be back in a few minutes.”

A few moments after the employee left, I noticed that there was the exact thing my mom needed, well within reach and hidden behind a different box of tampons. Now, the smart thing to do would be to take the tampons and apologize to the poor employee — who was just as short as we were — for wasting their time.

I did not do the smart thing.

I took the box and tossed it up on the top shelf. To the poor employee whose time I wasted, I am so sorry for being that kind of person. You were very helpful and lovely.

That’s What SkyNet Wants You To Think…

, , , | Right | December 31, 2021

Me: “Good afternoon. This is [My Name]. How may help you?”

Caller: “Are you a robot?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “Are you a robot or a human?”

Me: “I’m a human, sir.”

Caller: “Are you sure? I’ve been talking to robots all day and I want to speak to a human.”

Me: *Laughing* “I assure you, sir, I’m a human. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, you must be human. You laughed; robots don’t laugh.”

Me: “Unless I’m an AI.”

Caller: “Nah, that would be creepy.”

The rest of the call went on normally, and at the end, he thanked me for helping him and for not being a robot.

Infinitely Better Than A Dusty Old Sofa

, , , , , , | Friendly | December 28, 2021

I have a weird knack for finding unusually valuable things, especially when I’m not looking for them. Several times, I’ve grabbed an interesting-looking book from a free book box only to find out later it’s worth anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars. Secondhand furniture, too, and thrift store jewelry — I have a weird talent for picking a piece I think looks cool that turns out to be some fancy antique or valuable designer piece.

Probably my favorite example, though, found ME as I was taking a walk one evening.

Small Voice: “Mew.”

Me: “Huh?”

Small Voice: *Very insistent* “Mew!”

And out from under my neighbor’s hedge crawled a half-grown kitten in rough shape. Despite looking like he lost a cage fight with a rabid bear, he came right up to me and sat on my feet, meowing. So, I brought him home.

My boyfriend and I got him washed off, got the cuts cleaned out, and gave him some canned tuna, which he promptly inhaled, purring like a lawnmower. It wasn’t until the kitten was curled up on the couch that his fur started to dry enough for us to realize he had a very unique spotted pattern that we’d never seen before. He looked like nothing so much as a tiny leopard.

The kitten clearly had belonged to someone; he was very comfortable around people, and when we got a temporary litter box set up, he jumped right into it with a visible air of relief. With a coat that distinctive, we figured it shouldn’t be too hard to find his owner. We checked the county’s lost pet website. We asked the local animal shelter. We checked the town’s Facebook page. We asked the neighbor whose hedge he had been under. We checked the local bulletin boards. And we found… nothing.

The kitten, by this point, had made himself right at home, sleeping with us at night and pouncing on our socks, and neither of us objected to the idea of keeping him, so we decided to find him a vet while we kept looking.

Vet: “Well, he definitely got into a few scrapes but nothing that shouldn’t heal up. I’ll prescribe him some antibiotics just to be sure, and since we have no way of knowing if he’s been vaccinated, we should get that scheduled if you want to keep him.”

Me: “Sounds good. Any idea what breed he is? I’ve never seen fur like that.”

Vet: “My guess is he’s a Bengal cat. Maybe a Savannah cat, but he’s not quite leggy enough. You don’t usually see spotted coats like that outside of a few specific breeds, but there’s no way to tell for sure unless you wanted to get a genetic test done. He’s a handsome little thing either way, though, and clearly friendly.”

Me: “Has anyone reported one of those missing?”

Vet: “Not that I’ve heard. I’ll ask around, but he isn’t microchipped, either, so if you found him without a collar, I’d guess he’s just a stray.”

Armed with the newfound knowledge that our little rescue was probably a Bengal cat, we kept looking, and we still found no hint of who his owner might be. After a few months, we decided he was probably ours for good and scheduled a few more vet appointments for him.

The kitten was terrified of going outside and absolutely detested other cats — unsurprising, given the state we found him in — but was a sweet, outgoing little cuddlebug when he was safely inside with us. [Boyfriend] and I were relaying the story to a few friends who were over to visit when this conversation happened.

Friend: “He’s a Bengal?! Those things are valuable. You should show him!”

Boyfriend: “He’s probably a Bengal. We don’t know for sure unless we get him tested. He couldn’t be a show cat, anyway; he has too many scars from when he was a stray, and we don’t have any paperwork for him.”

Friend: “But you could get him tested like you said and prove he’s a Bengal! Then you could show him.”

Boyfriend: “I don’t really want to. It sounds like a lot of work for something neither of us are interested in, and more importantly, being stuck at a cat show all day would stress [Kitten] out. He hates other cats.”

Friend: “But the stud fees from a show-quality Bengal would be awesome!”

Me: “Well, he’s definitely not going to be a stud cat. He’s getting neutered next week.”

Friend: “What?! You have a Bengal, and you’re neutering him?!”

Me: “Well, yeah. We’re not showing him. We’re not breeding him. He’s a pet cat, and I want him healthy and mellow. And also, did we mention he hates other cats?”

Friend: “I can’t believe you guys!”

Up to this point, the kitten had been sitting quite contently on [Boyfriend]’s lap, but at this outburst, he flattened himself into [Boyfriend]’s arms and made a VERY unhappy noise.

Friend #2: *Laughing* “See? Even the cat agrees it’s a bad idea. Drop it, man. He’s their cat; they can do what they want.”

Our friend did finally get over it when it became clear that, yeah, our cat really does just loathe every other cat in existence and that going outside turns him into a shaking, yowling ball of stress. Six years later, his original owner still hasn’t shown up, we still don’t know if he’s actually a Bengal cat, and we don’t really care.  Designer breed or not, he’s our handsome furball, and he’s definitely my best find!

Easy Like Sundae Morning

, , , , | Working | December 23, 2021

At a burgers-and-frozen-custard drive-thru, we order our meals, and I request a mini sundae of their flavor of the day. This is my minor bad — I miss that their menu has “mini” mix-in shakes but only “small” sundaes — but things get strange from there. The order display says “FOD SUNDAE 2”, with what I only realize as we pull away from the speaker is their two-scoop sundae’s price, which explains the notation. We try to clear that up at the payment window.

Me: “I ordered a mini sundae, but I think the order display may have shown a two-scoop sundae.”

Cashier: “Oh! Sorry. Did you want the mini mix-in, instead?”

Me: “No, a mini sundae, please.”

Cashier: “Oh! Sorry. You want a single scoop of the flavor of the day?”

Me: “Do you have a mini sundae?”

Cashier: “Uh, we have a small sundae.”

I apologize for my sizing confusion and say that the small sundae sounds great. He runs the charge, hands the card back, and asks us to park and wait for our food, and they bring the meals… but no sundae. The receipt shows we were charged for it, so we go back through the drive-thru and are asked to pull to the payment window.

When we arrive, the cashier is holding a small sundae, obviously in the flavor of the day, exactly right.

Cashier: “Here you go. Sorry about that!”

Employee #2: “No, wait! It’s supposed to be the flavor of the day!”

She grabs the sundae from him and runs away. The cashier calls helplessly after [Employee #2].

Cashier: “But that is the flavor of the day!”

The employee soon returned to thrust at the cashier a cup with a single plain scoop of the same custard with no sundae toppings. Then, she rushed off again. The cashier blinked after her and hesitantly offered us the custard. We didn’t have time to try to sort it out further, so we accepted it and left.

I looked up the prices later from the receipt. It looks like it was rung up as a single non-sundae scoop and we thus got what we paid for even if not what we ordered, but it’ll be a while before we consider going to their drive-thru again. At least the eventual custard was good!