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Two Can Play This Game, Lady

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: Mike_OxonFaier | November 2, 2021

One Saturday, I go to pick up some groceries. As I’m shopping with my trolley, I hear the harrumph of an approaching woman behind me, but to my surprise, she walks straight past me to [Customer #2], demanding this, that, and the other.

Customer #2: “Sorry, but I don’t work here.”

As [Customer #1] starts accusing him of lying, etc., I figure that I’ll stick around and see what happens. It might be funny, but if she assaults the guy or accuses him of something, I’ll be a witness.

As I’m listening to [Customer #2] reiterate that he doesn’t work here and [Customer #1] repeatedly accuse him of lying, another customer comes past and addresses [Customer #1] in a big, booming voice.

Customer #3: “Finally, a manager! Some woman just accused me of not helping her when I’m a customer here. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

Customer #1: “What? I’m not a manager! What do you—”

Customer #3: “Of course, you’re a manager. I’ve seen you talking to customers. Now you are going to help me.”

Customer #1: “I was just talking to…”

But in the confusion, [Customer #2] had wisely ducked out, leaving [Customer #1] gesturing at an empty space. Suddenly, she is alone.

Customer #3: “Well, hanging around speaking to staff isn’t very professional, is it? You should be doing your job, helping customers. Starting with me.”

Customer #1: “I don’t f****** work here! F*** off!”

And she walks off, clearly upset, abandoning her shopping trolley in the process.

[Customer #2], who’s been waiting on the next aisle, comes back.

Customer #2: “Ahh, she’s gone.”

Customer #3: “Yeah, well, that got rid of her.”

He smiled vaguely and just continued shopping like nothing had happened. [Customer #3], whoever you are, you’re a legend.

A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 14

, , , , , , | Working | November 1, 2021

It’s not my job, but a customer has bought a specific piece of delicate scientific equipment and my boss asks if I would mind hand-delivering it. They book my train and I set off for the day, playing parcel delivery service.

I get to the reception area and the receptionist speaks without looking up.

Receptionist: “Take a seat.”

Me: “Oh, no, I don’t work here. I’m here to—”

Receptionist: “Take a seat, please.”

I sit down, a little annoyed. It’s been a long trip and it will be a long trip back. All I need to do is hand over the parcel. I wait and I wait in the empty reception… until I’ve had enough. I grab my phone and message my boss.

Me: “Hey, can someone message [Customer]? The receptionist has had me waiting for half an hour. There isn’t even anyone here.”

Boss: “Really? Okay, sure. I will call him now.”

Not long after:

Boss: “Okay, he is on his way.”

The customer arrives.

Customer: *To the receptionist* “Is anyone here to see me? As I mentioned, I have a very important delivery today.”

Receptionist: *Suddenly very sweet* “Oh, no, sorry. We have been rushed off our feet but no one has asked for you.”

Me: “I would have done, if you had actually spoken to me.”

Receptionist: “Well, you need to come to the counter for me to know you want to speak to me.” *Fake laughs*

Me: “I did half an hour ago; you sent me away.” *To the customer* “Here you are, sir. All your documents are inside. I will need one signature from you.”

Receptionist: “These delivery companies, they don’t know how to behave. I mean, sitting there, and then trying to blame me. I mean…”

Me: “I don’t work for a delivery company. I work for the supplier who is giving your company a very good discount on hardware that I understand you desperately need.”

Customer: “We do, and thank you again for taking time out of your busy day to bring this to us.”

Me: “My pleasure. If you will excuse me, I am already running very late.”

I left somewhat satisfied. We did get a call from a very senior member of the customer’s business later, and they apologised profusely and promised to never let it happen again.

Related:
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 13
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 12
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 11
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 10
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 9

The Stupid Stuperoo

, , , , , | Right | October 31, 2021

Due to my obsessive nature, I always follow the procedure of putting money on top of the till drawer — directly under the camera — and if a customer ever says they have different money, I keep my hands still and against the money that is already in the drawer.

I had a customer try to pull the old “change changeroo” on me. They reached over themselves and took back the fifty note they’d given me, and then they tried to claim I’d taken it and put it in the drawer, even though I hadn’t handed them any change yet.

I always balanced my till exactly every night and often had my float — the set amount of money you start your shift with — bundled away before lunchtime. We gave them the choice of taking the change I said they were owed or waiting while we counted my till.

We counted my till and, lo and behold, it was perfectly balanced, as always. This was in my first couple of months working there, and I’m glad I’m so obsessive.

Skip Right Out Of Here

, , | Right | October 30, 2021

I worked at a bank, and during a busy Friday, we had someone there to do repairs. The repairman needed one of us to sign a slip, so I called him up and signed it. The whole ordeal took maybe twenty seconds.

Next Person In Line: “Ugh, this is ridiculous. I wish I could skip the line!”

Me: “Well, if you want to repair our equipment, you’re more than welcome to skip the line when I sign off on your work. Otherwise, you can wait.”

He was silent after that.

You Snooze, You Lose, And Mom Will Make Sure Of That

, , , , , , , , | Related | October 29, 2021

This was the time before smartphones. My dad had a really bad habit of getting up at the last minute to leave for work. You know the type: sets the alarm for a certain time just so they can hit the snooze button over and over, only to be running out the door with a Poptart in hand? That was my dad.

This was often a frustrating conversation my mother would have with him to fix. On top of the ridiculous amount of times she had to hear that alarm from four to five in the morning, a new baby (me!), and having to make breakfast and clean the mess, she would ask for his help on certain small house tasks that he was otherwise “too tired” to do once he came home.

Unfortunately, with his horrible morning routine, his excuse every morning would be, “Sorry, honey, I’m in a rush so I need to get to work.” It was so bad he’d sometimes have to skip breakfast altogether, so she’d barely even get to talk to him before he left.

My mother, having grown up as the oldest of six other boys, had developed a very petty, mean streak when it came to getting exactly what she wanted.

One particular morning, my dad woke up to find that he had slept in a little too late, and the military can be pretty unforgiving to those who miss formation, thus beginning his usual routine of scrambling to shower, get his uniform on, and rush out the door. Upon telling me this story, he did tell me that he found it odd that my mom wasn’t nagging him for once. She didn’t stop him to talk or complain or yell; she just sat at the table with a cup of coffee and watched him trip over himself to rush to work.

My dad got into his car, turned it on… and noticed the time on his car’s clock was about an hour and a half before he had to leave. He looked at his wristwatch; yep, that said he was late! He looked at his car’s clock and then looked at his watch again. Then, he looked out the window and realized… it was WAY too dark for it to have been the time he was supposed to leave.

And then it hit him. My mother, in all her glory, had changed all the clocks in the house — the oven time, the microwave, his alarm clock, and somehow even his wristwatch — while he was asleep!

Mind you, my mother is severely visually impaired. If text isn’t gigantic and/or outlined with a light or opposing color and her nose isn’t basically touching what she needs to read, she can’t see it. To this day, he doesn’t know how the heck she managed to pull off changing the time on his digital watch without waking him.

Resigned to her little game, he shut off his car and slunk his way into the house. And there was my mother, gleefully sipping her cup of coffee with a huge grin.

“Great!” she said. “Looks like you’ve got time to help me now.

Suffice to say, he stopped hitting the snooze button.


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