Parenting The Parents

, , , , | Right | November 13, 2011

(I am a 17-year-old girl working at a Boy Scout camp. It is close to the end of the summer and I’ve gotten very used to encounters like these. The camp has motorized canoes on the river because the boys are generally too weak to row upstream. Some dads tend to abuse the canoes. This particular dad was very obnoxious.)

Dad: *jumps into canoe*

Me: “Uh, sir, we actually need to go over safety rules before you guys can start with the canoes, okay?”

Dad: *blank stare*

Me: “So… I’ll have to ask you to get out of the canoe.”

Dad: *blank stare*

Me: *more sternly* “Sir! I really need you to get out now so we can get started.”

Dad: “No! You can’t tell me what to do! Do you think I don’t know how to use a canoe?!”

Me: “Well, I’m sure you are very experienced with canoes, but some boys aren’t, so we just want to make sure everyone knows the ground rules.”

Dad: “Do you know who I am? You can’t talk to me like this! Who do you think you are to talk to me like this? Do you know who I am? I have the power to fire your a**!”

Coworker: “Whoa, hey, calm down. You don’t need to talk to her like that. She’s just doing her job.”

Dad: “She works here?! So she, like, gets… paid and stuff?”

Me: “Yes, I get paid and stuff.”

Dad: “But you’re a girl!”

Me: “Yes, I am a girl.”

Dad: “At a Boy scout camp?! This is just wrong! You can’t work here! Who hired you? What sick freak would hire a girl to do a man’s job?!”

(I begin writing names and numbers on a piece of paper.)

Me: “Okay, if you’d like to complain to my supervisor, here’s her number. Otherwise you can talk to the camp director; her name is Elizabeth.”

Dad: *storms off*

(Later, I found out that this same dad attempted to pop a wheelie in the canoe and was put on our “do not canoe” list.)

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Let Me Give You A Pizza My Mind, Part 2

, | Springfield, MO, USA | Right | April 8, 2011

Me: “Thanks for choosing [Pizza Place]. Can I get your phone number, please?”

(The customer provides his info.)

Me: “It looks like you’ve already placed an order a few minutes ago. Did you need to change something?”

Customer: “Yeah. My roommate is being a total woman over here. He doesn’t want to eat pizza.”

Me: “Weird. I’m a woman, and I eat pizza all the time.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, you know. Not a cool woman like you, but like a vegetarian or something.”

Me: “I’m a vegetarian.”

Customer: “Well, you know. I mean…uh…”

(The customer explains his friend has an ulcer and cuts his order down to just one pizza.)

Me: “Anything else?”

Customer: “No. I’m not calling here ever again. I promise.”

 

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The Customer Has The Right To Be Wrong

, , | Right | November 23, 2010

(I have finished my shift and am doing my shopping at the self-scan checkout, still in uniform.)

Customer: “Excuse me, can you help me? The machine’s playing up.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’ve actually finished. I can’t log on to the system after my shift, but I can call my colleague.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! If you’ve finished why are you still here at this checkout?”

Me: “I’m shopping, sir, like you are.”

Customer: “Why the h*** would you need to shop here?!”

Me: “I still need to eat, sir.”

Customer: “This is insane. What makes you think you have the right to eat?!”

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I Don’t Work Here Does Not Work Here, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | October 28, 2010

(I am shopping at a retail store where employees don’t wear uniforms, but encourage their sales associates to wear clothes purchased from their store. I’ve picked up a shirt from a stack of folded clothes, looked at it, and folded it again. A woman comes up to me holding a scarf.)

Customer: “Do you have this in blue? I saw it in blue last week but now I can’t find it.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t work here. But I think I just saw a salesperson over there.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me! I know you work here. I just saw you fold that shirt! If you can’t be bothered to help me, call someone else on your little radio or something. But don’t lie to me; I’m not stupid! Use your radio and find me a blue scarf!”

Me: “Listen, I don’t know what else I can tell you. I don’t have a radio to call someone as I do not work here.”

Customer: “Just stop it already! Someone needs to teach you how to treat customers with respect. Of course you work here; you are wearing clothes from the d*** store! I’m not stupid! Where is your manager?”

(I decide to ignore her and continue about my business. A couple of minutes later I hear a now familiar voice.)

Customer: “That girl right there. She didn’t want to help me, so she just pretended she didn’t work here.”

(I turn around and see the woman standing behind me with the store manager.)

Manager: “Ma’am, this lady doesn’t work here. She is just a shopper like you.”

Customer: “But… she is wearing clothes from this store!”

Manager: *looking at me apologetically as I’m trying hard not to laugh* “A lot of people wear clothes from this store, ma’am. That’s the whole point of buying them. Our employees all wear a name tag; that’s how you can tell them apart from customers.”

Customer: “I think you are just covering for your employee because you know she messed up. This is unbelievable! I just wanted this scarf in blue! I am never shopping here again!”

(She turns around to leave. As she storms out, she spots another customer and yells at her.)

Customer: “I suppose you don’t work here either, huh?!”

Other Customer: *without batting an eye* “Nope. But I have that scarf in blue, and let me tell you; it’s gorgeous!”


Buy Now! I Don’t Work Here T-Shirt

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Contractions Speak Louder Than Words

, , , , | Romantic | March 7, 2010

Me: “Hello, sir. How can I help?”

Customer: “I want to make a complaint about the lady who just served my wife. She is eight-months pregnant. When she came to pay, the checkout girl didn’t offer to help with the packing. She let my wife struggle!”

Me: “I’m really sorry. It’s store policy to ask if the customer needs help with the packing. Do you have the receipt so I can see who served her?”

(I walk over to the till and show the checkout girl the receipt. She explains what happened. I return to the customer.)

Me: “Hi, sir. The checkout girl explained that your wife was on her phone at the till. She asked a few times if she needed help packing but she didn’t answer. I’m confident we did all we could to help.”

Customer: “Well, that’s not good enough. I want some money back on the shopping for the poor service. My wife is pregnant and in a lot of pain and had to struggle on her own. No one helped her.”

Me: “This receipt is from a few minutes ago. Can I ask where you were?”

Customer: “I sat in the car waiting for her to come back. What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

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