Client: “I thought we were having the meeting today!”
Me: “No, it’s tomorrow.”
Client: “It popped up on my screen. I’m tired of you p***ks sending me stuff at the last minute!”
Me: “I sent it two weeks ago. The reminder must have been set to twenty-four hours. I’ll set it to like an hour next time.”
Client: “No, don’t do that. I like the reminders ahead of time.”
A user opens a ticket about her laptop being slow. Her laptop is the same model as mine, issued roughly around the same date, same amount of RAM, everything. I’ll be the first to admit I have some really, really terrible habits when it comes to keeping tabs open. But I remote into this user’s machine and… it’s really slow. Like, I start Task Manager, and I have time to go get a glass of water before it’s started.
I spend some time checking out the machine. She has 8 GB of RAM, but she’s got like fifty Chrome tabs open across five windows, about ten PDFs open in Acrobat Reader, and a dozen or so different Word and Excel documents open, and none of it minimized. Task Manager reports that her RAM is capped out, in addition to about 5 GB of page files. My final check is the CPU uptime.
I’m disappointed in myself normally for having a CPU uptime on my personal PC that’s right now at five days. But this woman? Try twenty-five days. I don’t think she’s ever shut down this machine in her life. No wonder it’s slow; she’s basically torturing the d*** thing.
After I’m done with my check, I wait for the user to get back to her laptop because, of course, she basically said, “I’m going on my break; remote in and fix it, thanks.”
She calls when she gets back.
Me: “I’ve had a look at your computer, and I’ve identified three possible reasons your PC is slow—”
User: “Have you fixed it? It’s still slow.”
Me: “Yes, it’s still slow. I was just about to explain why it’s slow and how you can prevent it from being slow in the future—”
User: “But you are IT, not me. Can’t you fix it?”
Me: “I can fix it, but you’d need to save your work first. Firstly, you have too many tabs open in Chrome—”
User: “I need all of them.”
Me: “Do you need all of them right now? Or could you close some of them and reopen them when you need them?”
User: “No, I need them all. Just fix it.”
Me: “Okay, well, the other thing is that you only have 8 gb of RAM. You can’t have this many things open at once with only 8 gb of RAM.”
User: “Can you increase the RAM?”
Me: “Perhaps, but you’ll need to get your manager to approve it, and it’ll come out of your department’s budget. And they’ll contact me and I’ll tell them that you keep fifty tabs open, and that if you stop that, it might speed up.”
User: “Then I’ll get more RAM. Is that it?”
Me: “Well, there is one last fix that I can attempt. You haven’t shut down your computer in forever. If you reboot your machine it might speed up.”
User: “I close the lid every day. Is that not enough?”
Me: “No, it isn’t. Here’s how you shut it down properly.”
I remotely show her the shutdown button in the Start menu
Me: “Do this every day when you leave for home. When you next use the machine, press the power button on the machine to turn it back on. Your laptop will be faster then.”
User: “Okay, thanks, then.” *Hangs up*
I never did hear from the manager, so I’m guessing she decided to close some tabs?
I was working in retail during flu season. One day, in particular, I was sick as a dog, my nose running like a tap. When I was not working, I managed that symptom by keeping my head tilted slightly up so everything could drain backward. But that’s not an option when you’re looking down to pack bags and make change every few seconds. Even with tissues and sanitiser, I was serving very slowly because I’d have to stop myself from snotting on the customer’s produce.
I thought a sensible thing to do was to put up my closed sign so people would queue elsewhere and probably get served faster. I’d then call over one person at a time so I was still working the whole time but we’d have fewer annoyed customers.
I got reamed out for closing my register without asking, in front of the customer I was serving at the time.
The reason I didn’t go home? I’d asked, but they’d already let someone else go home (who was far less sick) and they didn’t want to be down another cashier.
My friend dropped her phone in the toilet. Knowing her husband was handy, she asked him to see if he could fix her phone… except she didn’t want to admit what had happened, knowing he’d get mad. He opened up the phone.
Friend’s Husband: “Why are the internals wet?”
Friend: “My water bottle may have leaked on it.”
Not until he’d spent the whole day messing with the phone, likely touching stuff around the house, his face, etc., did she admit the truth. Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy with her.
To buy alcohol at the alcohol monopoly (a chain of state-owned liquor stores in Sweden), you need to be able to provide a valid ID that proves you’re at least twenty years old. The cashiers don’t card everyone, but if they think the customer might be under thirty, they ask for ID just to be safe. There are signs in every store informing customers of this.
To avoid any confusion: it doesn’t matter if you’re twenty-five or eighty, if the cashier asks for ID and you can’t provide one, you don’t get your booze, regardless of age or appearance. It’s unusual for them to ask for ID when you look like you’re over a certain age, but sometimes they have information drives where they ask everyone, so I’ve learned to always have my ID with me when I want to buy alcohol.
I stop by the alcohol monopoly on my way home from work to buy a bottle of wine. I end up waiting in line behind a customer who looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties, but I can’t tell for sure, and it’s obvious the cashier can’t, either, because she asks:
Cashier: “May I see your ID, please?”
Customer: “What? No, I don’t have ID. I’m thirty-five.”
Cashier: “I need to see ID to verify that.”
Customer: “I don’t have ID. You have to see that I’m over twenty! I have an eighteen-year-old daughter, for God’s sake.”
Cashier: “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell to you. If you want to go and get your ID, I’ll hold your purchases for you.”
Customer: “Didn’t you hear what I said? I don’t have ID! It expired! I’m thirty-five! I have an eighteen-year-old daughter!”
Cashier: “I don’t care how old your daughter is. If you can’t show me a valid ID, I can’t sell to you.”
Customer: “Can’t you see I’m older than twenty? Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”
Cashier: “You may take it however you wish, but it’s very difficult to tell someone’s age from looks alone. That’s why we ask for ID.”
Customer: “Well, I don’t have ID, and I’m thirty-five! I’m the customer here and you’re being very rude!”
Cashier: “If you don’t have ID, I can’t sell to you. I’m sorry. Next, please.”
The cashier takes the customer’s items aside to be put back while the customer stays in the checkout area ranting about how rude the cashier is. I walk up and put my bottle of wine on the conveyor belt. I’m in my forties and I look it, so the cashier initially doesn’t ask me for ID.
Customer: “You need to card her! You carded me; why won’t you card her? This is discrimination! I bet she doesn’t have any ID, either!”
Cashier: *To me* “Sorry for the wait. Do you happen to have your ID?”
Me: “Yes, I do, since I was planning to buy wine today. Here it is.”
Cashier: “Thank you. That seems to be in order. Have a good day.”
Me: “You, too.”
I take my wine and leave, while the customer who could not provide valid ID stays in the lobby whining to anyone who might want to listen about how rude the cashier is and how she is being discriminated against. I stop by the ice cream store next door to have a treat, and while I’m sitting there, I notice the customer leaving the store in a huff, walking up to a car, and driving off.
I finish my ice cream and pop back into the liquor store.
Me: “Hi, I don’t know if you noticed, but the lady from before who didn’t have valid ID just got into a car and drove away. She might not have a valid driver’s licence.”
Cashier: “Yes, we know. We already called the police. She does this all the time.”
Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 47
No ID, No Idea, Part 46
No ID, No Idea, Part 45
No ID, No Idea, Part 44
No ID, No Idea, Part 43
