We’re About To Get A Wine-r

, , , , | Right | December 9, 2018

(I work in a low-budget supermarket. I am stacking the alcohol aisle while also being in charge of the self-checkout machines right next to me. I live in the highlands of Scotland where a lot of English people have relocated. An elderly English couple approaches me; I can immediately tell they are snobby. The lady of the couple approaches me while I am putting away an immense amount of alcohol.)

Customer: “Do you have the recommended wine from the August 2015 edition of ‘Home & Country’ magazine?”

Me: “Do you know the name of the wine?”

Customer: “No, why should I? You work here; you should know!”

Me: “Why should I know what third parties recommend from our products?”

Customer: *looking angry and huffing her breath loudly* “Well, you do work here, don’t you?! You should know these things! Have you not even been trained on what wines people would like to know about?”

(The self-service tills have started to bell for me to help the customers. We also do not get training on third-party recommendations, as that would be ridiculous; we just put out what we get sent.)

Me: “No, we do not. How would I be able to know every third-party recommendation? That is like you saying, ‘Do you have the wine my friend Mable told me about at the church bake sale?’ I have to go help at the self-checkouts now; I will be right back.”

(I go to help the other customers while she is left gaping and turning to her husband to complain. I come back after a few minutes to see them both still standing there, glaring at me.)

Me: “Did you find the wine yet? Or remember anything about it so I can actually help you?”

Customer: “Of course I haven’t! This would not happen if we were in England! Get me your manager.”

Me: “Lady, if that is what you prefer—” *points south* “—England is that way. Go back there if that’s what you prefer.”

(I left, with her now hurling abuse about how all Scottish people are inbred and cannot speak properly. I got my manager, and explained everything while we were walking up to the couple. We get a lot of these type of people coming in with ridiculous requests. My manager told them exactly what I said about third-party recommendations, and that if they didn’t like what we had, then maybe they should go back to England. The customer grabbed her husband, leaving her shopping trolley full, and stormed out the store. My manager and I just laughed when she was gone. We get far too many of these for it to be out of the norm.)

Sounds Like She Needs That Other Seven Eighths

, , | Right | December 9, 2018

(I work in a cafe, which gets very busy. A lady orders a coffee from a register separate from the cafe, and comes over to tell me that she wants her coffee to be 1/8th strength. I am already a bit flustered, since there are twenty orders to get through. Knowing that this is not enough coffee to dissolve the five sugars that she has ordered, I ask her if she is sure that that is what she wants.)

Customer: “YES! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS TIP OUT HALF OF A 1/4 STRENGTH SHOT!”

Me: “No problem, just double checking. We have quite a few orders to get through, so it may take a bit of time.”

(When I finally get to her order and am just about to pour her milk she says.)

Customer: “Actually, I want you to make that again, in a different milk jug.”

Me: *absolutely fuming by now, with another ten orders after hers* “Sure. Just give me a minute.”

(I give her the coffee once it’s finished and tell her to have a nice day. Then, not even five minutes later she has walked up to the other end of the counter and begins yelling:)

Customer: “WHAT IS THAT GIRL’S NAME?! I WANT HER NAME! I WANT HER FIRED! I WILL RING [OWNER] AS SOON AS I GET HOME. SHE IS GONE!”

(She never rang the owner.)

Carrying On And On About The Tray

, , , , , | Working | December 9, 2018

(I am 19 and starting a new serving job at a casual restaurant in my small town. The woman training me micromanages how I do every single task, which is usually good for how I learn, but then we talk about carrying a tray.)

Trainer: *showing me how to carry a large tray* “Keep your palm flat, carry it in the center, and make sure you load it evenly — heavy stuff in the middle. We’ll talk more about loading it in a bit. Go ahead and grab an empty tray and try it out.”

(I grab a tray and balance it with my right hand while walking, without issues.)

Trainer: “Okay, good. Wait. Are you right-handed or left-handed?”

Me: “I’m right-handed.”

Trainer: “You should be carrying with your left, then, so you can use your right, the dominant hand, to open up the folding stand or unload your tray.”

Me: “Really? Huh. Well, it feels better using my right. Shouldn’t I use my strongest arm?”

Trainer: “Yes, but that should be— Wait, now I’m not sure. Hold on.”

(She holds the tray, first using her right hand, then her left.)

Trainer: “No, you really should keep your dominant hand free. See? Watch me.”

(She demonstrates again, and then another coworker walks out of the kitchen with a tray of food.)

Trainer: “See? [Coworker #1] is using her left hand to carry a tray. Oh! And here comes [Coworker #2]. Hey! Show [My Name] how to carry a tray.”

Coworker #2: “Uh, okay?” *picks up tray and balances with left hand*

Trainer: “SEE! She carries with her left hand!”

Coworker #2: *to me* “Are you left-handed?”

Me: “Nope.”

(It’s a slow mid-afternoon, so now the other server has come back and they’re telling me how I should be balancing a tray with my left hand and unloading with my right because they all do it like that. [Coworker #1] finally tells me to try with both and see what feels best. Unsurprisingly, my left hand is shaky when I carry the empty tray.)

Trainer: “Oh. Definitely don’t use your left hand.”

Me: “Yeah, no kidding!”

(As I met the rest of my coworkers the rest of the week, they all apparently thought it was crazy that I used my right arm to carry, and I had to repeat that scene several times. I’ve since looked up what’s normal and watched different people, but I still don’t think it was that weird! I thought it was weird they were so adamant that I was wrong about what felt best for ME.)

Okay, Misogy-mini

, , , , , | Right | December 9, 2018

(My sister and I are with my younger brother at a video game store, so he can check the prices of a few games. While he’s looking at one game, a boy about his age strikes up a conversation. I think nothing of it, and continue looking around. At one point, I’m standing with my brother when an ad for a cute and fluffy — yet challenging — game comes on, which I happen to be obsessed with.)

Brother: “Oh, look, [My Name]! [Video Game]! They’re coming out with a new one!”

Me: “Awesome! Does that show release dates or anything?”

Boy: “You like that game?”

Me: “Yup.”

Boy: “Really? One a scale of one to ten, the graphics are like, really bad. Like, compared to the games I play, the graphics are just, like, really bad.”

Me: “Well, the whole concept is that it’s yarn. For yarn and craft supplies, the graphics are actually pretty awesome!”

Boy: “Yeah, but the graphics are really bad. Like, they look five-bit.”

Me: “I think you mean eight-bit. I also think I’m entitled to my own opinion, thank you very much.”

Boy: “Yeah, but the graphics just suck.”

(At this point, my sister comes over.)

Sister: “Everyone ready to go?”

Boy: “You have two sisters?! Dude, that must suck.”

Brother: “It’s fine, actually. Plus, they’re really good for playing multiplayer games with.”

Boy: “Those girls? Nah, they probably just fluff their hair all day. Ha!”

Me: “Yeah, okay, you got what you need? Let’s check out now. I don’t need more time with Sir Pint-Sized Misogynist.”

(I later saw the boy tagging behind all three employees that were working that day, spewing off random “tips” everyone knows and incorrect game trivia. Let’s hope his parents found him soon after!)

He Essentially F***ed Himself

, , , , | Right | December 8, 2018

(The main road is closed off for a weekend and turns into a large annual fair with insane amounts of sitting accommodations, and beer and food stands. However, as the streets need to be open to traffic again by Sunday at midnight sharp, it’s forbidden to sell beer after nine pm, so that there’s enough time to disassemble the stands and clean the streets. As you can imagine, German beer and an early last call don’t mix very well, and year after year there are problems with this. It’s 9:20 pm, and I’m working on disassembling benches when I see an obviously intoxicated person coming up to a beer stand nearby, where a cashier is still waiting for people returning their steins.)

Customer: “I’ll have another beer!”

Cashier: “Sorry, can’t do. It’s after nine o’clock. We’re not allowed to sell beer after nine.”

Customer: “Ah, come on! Shut up and pour me another one!”

Cashier: “Sorry, but no. You’re asking me to break the law. If somebody sees this, I could lose the licence for this stand.”

Customer: “Don’t be paranoid! Come on! It’s just one beer.”

Cashier: “Yes, for you. But if I make an exception for you, somebody will see it, and soon I’ll need to make an exception for everyone. Besides, as I already told you, you’re asking me to break the law.”

Customer: “Bulls***! I’m not asking you to break the law. I’m asking you for one tiny exception, only once. Just give me a beer and tell the people after me to f*** off.”

Cashier: “Sorry, bud, somebody already used that line today, so, as you are after him…” *grinning* “You know… f*** off!”

(For a second, he actually looked offended until the workers — quietly working nearby and listening — cracked up laughing. He stormed away, embarrassed.)

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