It’s A Big, Bright, Beautiful World… But Not For Shrek

, , , , , , , , | Related | June 14, 2020

CONTENT WARNING: ABUSE

I own a dry-cleaning business and work there. When the national lockdown happened, my business was considered among the “essential” ones, so I was allowed to stay open but doing fewer hours.

During this, I had a particularly nasty client visiting me on the regular — almost every week, in fact. He’d always bring in absolutely filthy bedsheets and pillow covers, never had the correct amount of money, and only used hand sanitizer when he gave me his rags.

By chatting against my will with him and by what info my wife told me, I found out that he actually lived in the apartment above mine, meaning that he not only he was a pigsty of a person, he also was the same man that heavily swore in the wee hours of the morning and stomped up and down his place, waking my son up and scaring him, and had done so for months.

Due to this client’s boorish behaviour, I had nicknamed him “Shrek,” and I told my son that “Shrek” had left Fiona, took a potion turning him human, and then went to live upstairs from us, which was good enough to get him to stop being scared at his heavy steps and his Tuscan blasphemies against God at strange hours.

A few days ago, restrictions relaxed, and I was allowed to finally take my son out to play in the park. As we were getting ready to leave, I saw “Shrek” come down the stairs with some luggage on hand.

My son looked at him with curiosity and intensity, and then he asked, very loudly, “Hey, Mister Shrek, where are you going? Were you really an ogre?”

The client stopped midway through the steps to look at my son. As embarrassed as I could be, I rushed my son back inside, scolded him, and gave him a couple of slaps on the butt to teach him.

I just hope the guy never figures out why my son said that.

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Gas Problems Are The Worst

, , , | Working | May 24, 2020

This happens in the pre-cellphone era. Our company routinely performs jobs at a refinery located 230 kilometres away — that is, an hour-and-a-half drive. At 9:00 am, the foreman at the refinery realizes they will need special equipment to complete the job, so he calls the company and they send another worker with a van to deliver it.

At 10:30, the foreman is waiting outside the refinery. At 11:00, he’s annoyed and at 11:30, he starts to worry. The van finally shows up at 12.

Foreman: “At last! What took you so long?”

Driver: *Stalling* “Ehh, I had trouble.”

Foreman: “What trouble? I’ve been listening to the radio; the traffic was fine!”

Driver: “I had trouble… getting gas!”

Foreman: “Getting gas, eh? We’ll talk about that later. Where are you going now? We need to unload the van!”

Driver: “Why, I’m going to lunch before there’s a queue!”

Twenty years later, “I had trouble getting gas” is still the blanket reply whenever someone’s punctuality is questioned!

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They’re Not In The Upper Percentile, Part 3

, , , , | Right | May 22, 2020

I work at a money exchange facility. A girl approaches me in my office.

Customer: “How much is your service fee?”

Me: “Hello! Well, it depends on how much you are exchanging.”

Customer: “Yes, but how much is it?”

Me: “The maximum fee is 19.7%, but it depends on how much you want to exchange. How many dollars do you have?”

Customer: “No, I want to know in Euros how much it’s going to be.”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s a percentage, and it depends on the amount. It could be smaller, but you need to tell me how much you think to exchange”

Customer: *Patronizingly* “You don’t understand! Since it’s a percentage, how many Euros is it going to be?”

Me: “I’m sorry, no, I don’t understand. It’s a percentage; percentages depend on the total amount.”

Customer: “Yes, tell me how many Euros it will be on the total amount!!”

I just look puzzled.

Customer: “Never mind. I’ll ask somewhere else.”

Me: “Good luck!” 

Related:
They’re Not In The Upper Percentile, Part 2
They’re Not In The Upper Percentile

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Actual Veterans Would Like To Have A Word With You

, , , | Right | May 10, 2020

I’m working the till at the supermarket and it’s the fourth week into lockdown. Bread is the Italians’ staple food and people have started to bake it at home, so yeast is in high demand.

Customer: “It’s like wartime! You’re out of yeast and sourdough! It’s such an encumbrance, having to queue at the bakery every day!”

Me: “I understand, madam. However, if your freezer is big enough, you could buy it in a batch and freeze it.”

The customer is all suddenly all stroppy and toffee-nosed.

Customer: “Oh, no, no, no. Because then it tastes off. Like it was underdone, you see.”

So, this is her idea of wartime, having to queue at the baker’s because reheated bread tastes “off”? I guess all those people who lived through actual wartime have been hyping their stories a lot, then.

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Unfiltered Story #193763

, | Unfiltered | May 3, 2020

I’m the co-owner of a store that sells printer cartridges, paper and so on.
Other than originals we sell also alternative cartridges who obviously have different codes than the originals.
A customer comes inside, claiming we gave him the wrong cartridge.
Me checking the printer code: “This is the black cartridge for your printer, did you want the colors one?”
Customer: “No it isn’t. The code for black is [Our Code For Color]”
Me: “No I’m sorry. That’s the code for the color cartridge. This is the black one”
Customer: “I can’t fit it inside, the shape it’s different!”
Me: “Yes. This series have a slightly different shape for the black and colors cartridges, so it won’t fit. It seems like you tried to put the black one in the color spot.”
Customer: “No, in my printer [OCFC] is the code for the black one”
Me, showing him the computer screen: “Again I’m sorry but no. As you can see that code is only for the colors one. If you wish, you can bring your printer here and I’ll install the cartridges”
Customer: “I need to print this evening, you need to change it” (note that it was around 16:30-17:00 or 4:30-5 PM)
Me: “There is nothing wrong with the cartridge. If you bring the printer I’ll install the cartridge”
Customer, seemingly calmer: “If you are so sure I’ll try again”
Saying that he got out, but the question remain: if I’m showing you that you are wrong, it’s so difficult to admit it?