Walk In-Sane

, , , , , , | Healthy | March 24, 2018

(I’m a patient sitting in the waiting room of a walk-in clinic. Although I try not to, I overhear the following conversation, as the patient is being extremely loud.)

Patient: “I want to see [Doctor].”

Receptionist: “I’ll see if I can get her for you, but if it’s urgent, we try to send patients in to doctors as they become available, and [Doctor] will be off the clock in twenty minutes. You’ll probably be waiting longer than that.”

Patient: “My friend told me [Doctor] is the best one, and I came on a Thursday because he said she works on Thursdays!”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry you were inconvenienced, ma’am. In future, if it’s urgent, please come in right away. All our doctors are fully qualified to help you.”

Patient: “Well, what about next Thursday? Will she be in, then?”

Receptionist: “Again, if you come late in the day, she may not be able to help you.”

Patient: “I can’t come any earlier! I’m at work until five, and I’m sure as hell not going to take time off if you can’t guarantee that I’ll even get to see the right doctor! This is absolutely ridiculous! I’m coming in next Thursday at 5:30, and I expect to see [Doctor]!”

Receptionist: “Ma’am, it doesn’t work like that.”

Patient: “Well, why the hell not?!”

Receptionist: “Because asking to see a specific doctor at a specific time is called an appointment, and this is a walk-in clinic.”

Patient: *glares at the receptionist, crumples up her sign-in sheet, and stalks out the door*

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Journalistic Integrity Is Worth More Than A Car

, , , | Working | March 23, 2018

(I’ve saved up some money to buy a used car I’ve seen at a local dealership. This is happening while I’m sitting in the office with the boss, making small-talk.)

Boss: “So, what do you do for a living?”

Me: “I’m soon graduating journalism school. That’s part of the reason why I need the car. Interviews and so on.”

Boss: “Oh, okay. I’ve always wondered. Do they tell you when to lie in school, or is this decided by the individual newspapers?”

Me: *not sure if he’s joking* “I’m sorry?”

Boss: “Come on. We both know your kind withholds half of the news from the public, and the other half is more fiction than fact. You can be honest with me. I’m just curious!”

(Needless to say, he didn’t make the sale.)

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Not Playing With Google Play

, , , | Working | March 23, 2018

(For reasons unknown, the renewal of my subscription to a very popular streaming company through Google Play does not work. I am billed for the monthly fee, but I am unable to use the streaming services. This is my second call to the customer support of the streaming company.)

Me: “Hi there. This is [My Name]. I have a problem with my account. I renewed my subscription through Google Play, and I am unable to—”

Customer Support: “I have to cut you off right there. Any payment through Google Play is no concern of ours, and you have to talk to their customer support.”

Me: “Yes, I just called their customer support, and they cannot do anything, because they already transferred the money to your company. They directed my concerns back to you.”

Customer Support: “I already told you: we cannot help you unless you put up a payment plan directly with us.”

(I get a little agitated because of his obvious unwillingness to even listen to me.)

Me: “Excuse me? As I said, you already got my money, so it is now your obligation to transfer the money back to me, or at least renew my account.”

Customer Support: “This is a free hotline; do you really expect us to deal with this?”

(I am taken aback by his crude answer and now get really upset.)

Me: “Are you kidding me right now? You have my money, and don’t provide me with the services you advertise. Do you really expect me to play ping-pong with two different support hotlines so no one is actually dealing with this issue? This is unbelievable!”

Customer Support: “You have to deal with their customer support!”

Me: “I told you, I did! They even sent me an email confirming that the payment was transferred and that I should address my concerns to you.”

(He is now talking over me.)

Customer Support: “Hey, if you find any support guy here dealing with this, I will personally pay you the money out of my wallet.”

Me: “I talked to a colleague of yours 30 minutes ago; he actually tried to help me and at least looked up my account.”

Customer Support: “Yeah, sure. Again, call their customer support.” *click*

(Yep. The guy hung up on me. I immediately called a third time and got a lady on the line. After 45 minutes of retracing every step, talking to supervisors, and trying to figure out what went wrong, the only guess she came up with was that there has been some strange technical issue that prevented the payment from being tied to my account. After two hours of dealing with customer support, I never received my money back, or got the services I paid for.)

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How To Cheese Off Your Customers

, , , , , , | Working | March 23, 2018

(I am allergic to milk. When I go out to restaurants, I am always careful to specify to servers that my allergy means no milk, butter, cream, yogurt, or cheese, especially when I am abroad. My friend and I are out together, and we have both ordered food. I was extra careful to ask for no cheese or sauce on my burger, and to double-check that there is no milk in the bun. Our food comes out.)

Server: “And here we go! A burger for her, and pasta for you! Enjoy, ladies!”

Friend: “Thanks!” *to me* “Looks great, doesn’t it?”

Me: “Yeah! Oh… Hang on. I think they forgot to not put sauce on my burger. It should be okay if it’s just a relish, though.”

Friend: “Double-check, just in case! But it should be fine.”

Me: *deconstructing my burger with my fork* “Oh… So, not only is there lots of sauce on my burger, but there’s cheese… and… What is that?”

Friend: “It looks like they buttered the bun for some reason. You’d better send that back!”

Me: “Yeah.”

(I call the server back over.)

Server: “Is everything okay, ladies?”

Me: “Unfortunately, there seems to be cheese and possibly butter on my burger. I’m allergic, so I really can’t eat that. I’m so sorry, but is there any way I can get a new burger, please? Without the cheese or the butter on the bun, and with the sauce on the side, please?”

Server: “Oh! Wow! I’m so sorry; that shouldn’t have happened! I must have forgotten to put in an allergy warning on the till. Let me fix this for you right away!”

(He goes off to the kitchen and comes back after a while with a new plate.)

Server: “Again, I am so sorry that happened! Here you go. I spoke to the chef this time, so it should be all right. The sauce is on the side this time!”

Me: “Thank you! I’m so sorry to cause a fuss!”

Friend: *just as the server leaves* “Erm… I think I can see where they scraped off the cheese?”

Me: “What?” *deconstructs the new burger again* “Seriously? I think they just replaced the bun… and it still looks buttered. Maybe it’s margarine. Does this look right to you? I really don’t want to cause a fuss again.”

Friend: *pointing* “That’s definitely cheese still left on it! Don’t eat it! I’ll call our server back again.”

Server: “Ladies! What’s up? Is the new burger okay?”

Friend: “So, there still seems to be butter on her burger and–” *pointing* “–it looks like the cheese has just been scraped off here.”

Server: “What? I really did talk to the chef this time! Gosh, I am so sorry! I’ll see to it right away!” *takes the second plate back*

(While the server is away, my friend finishes her food. We also have timed tickets for a tourist attraction; though it’s nearby, we will need to leave the restaurant soon. We’re debating whether to get the burger in a to-go container when a lady marches up to our table.)

Manager: “Hi, girls. I’m the manager here. I heard there’s a problem with your food?”

Me: “Oh, there’s no problem; there’s just a mix up with my burger.”

Friend: “Yeah, we’re just waiting for her meal to come out again.”

Manager: “Right… The chef is saying you keep sending back perfectly good food. Is that right?”

Me: *taken aback* “What? No! I’m allergic to milk, and I asked for no cheese on my burger. My food keeps arriving with cheese on it, so I’ve just asked for a plain burger this time.”

Manager: “Right. I can’t see the problem here. Why can’t you just scrape it off?”

Friend: *worried* “She has an allergy! If she eats anything with milk in it, she will get seriously sick! Like, phone-an-ambulance sick!”

Manager: *haughtily* “I know what an allergy is! My husband is lactose intolerant! He can eat cheese, or scrape it off if he has to!”

Me: *trying to be calm* “An intolerance is different. Trust me; I don’t like sending food back, but I genuinely can’t eat it.”

Manager: “Hmm… You both seem very young… It looks to me like you’re just looking for a free meal.”

Friend: *raising her voice in frustration* “Honestly, we aren’t looking for anything! She just wanted something to eat, but she has to be careful because she has an allergy. We can’t explain it any better than that. She has not touched one ounce of her food! You can’t charge us for something she hasn’t eaten!”

Manager: “Well, I don’t comp meals when customers don’t communicate properly!”

Me: *jumping in quickly* “Look: it’s fine! I don’t want the food anymore. We have to leave soon, anyway. Can we just have our bill please?”

Manager: *changing her tune suddenly* “Of course! I’ll have your server bring it over immediately.” *hurries off, looking smug*

(Our server reappears with our bill soon after that.)

Server: “I am so sorry about the manager. She’s new. She told me not to comp your meal, but I’ve taken the burger and drinks off!”

Me: “I hope you won’t get in trouble for that.”

Server: “Nah, I’m one of the few experienced staff left! But, at this rate, I won’t be here for long!”

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Can You Please Shut Your/The/A Mouth?

, , , , , | Working | March 23, 2018

(I start work at four am, and the only coffee place open at that hour in my town is at the gas station. I don’t know why, but the clerk at four am always likes to play grammar games.)

Me: “Can I have my receipt, please?”

Clerk: “It’s my receipt. It’s not your receipt until I give it to you.”

Me: “Whatever. Can I have the receipt?”

Clerk: “I can give you a receipt. If you want the receipt, you need to be specific.”  

(It’s not worth it anymore. I just head into work a little earlier and make my own coffee now.)

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