Lazily Urgent

, , , | Right | March 30, 2018

(I work at a call centre for a logistics company. Situations tend to escalate a bit on Friday afternoons, when clients realize they have missed the driver and will have to wait until Monday for their packages. The other option is for them to come to the package centre, which is usually located out of town. Since we try our best to accommodate requests that are really urgent, some clients try to test our flexibility.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your package will be re-delivered on Monday.”

Client: “Please, can’t you make the driver come back? This is really urgent! I need this for the weekend.”

Me: “Unfortunately, that would not be possible, but you can come by the package centre this afternoon and take your package. Would this work for you?”

Client: “Are you kidding me? I’m not driving all the way there for two phone cases!”

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That Snow Way To Behave

, , , , , , , | Friendly | March 29, 2018

When enough snow accumulates on the ground, there’s an unspoken rule for parking: don’t steal a shoveled space. Someone else did the hard work, and even went to the trouble of digging out a lawn chair, cone, or trash barrel to tell the world it’s saved. While some people are kind about giving up their spaces, this is only acceptable if you ask first.

After one particular snow storm when I was 16, my parents, my uncle, and I got out and shoveled. After spending roughly two hours digging out the cars and clearing the sidewalk and walkway, my uncle — who lived with us — and my mother were free to head to work. While my mother’s car was parked on a paved portion of our property, my uncle’s was parked on the street, because we only had two parking spaces and my dad had his own car. So, to protect the spot, I dug out our trash barrels and placed one into the spot as soon as my uncle pulled out.

With school cancelled and my dad retired, he and I went back inside to rest up before we had to go back out and tackle more snow. We only rested about an hour, but the snow was coming down pretty hard that day. When we got outside to check for ice, I saw our barrel perched atop a mountain of snow in our front yard. Already having a sneaking suspicion, I circled around the pile to confirm it: someone tossed our barrel out of the way and swiped the spot.

I know plenty of people who would slash tires, smash windshields, and find other ways to vandalize the car, and a few others who would be waiting around the car with a few friends. I took a more civilized approach. After tossing the barrel into my backyard, I began deconstructing the mountain in my front yard and used it to bury the spot again, car and all. I didn’t stop until the snow was as high as it was when the four of us found it that morning.

If this person wanted this spot so badly, then they could do the work for it.

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Giving Their Two Cents On Your Cent

, , , , , , | Right | March 29, 2018

(I’m a cashier at a very busy grocery store. I ring up this older guy’s items. He also has a young kid with him.)

Me: “Your total is $9.01.”

Customer: “Okay, can you just get rid of the penny, so I don’t have to break a dollar?”

Me: “I don’t have any pennies on me, and if you don’t have a penny I can put in my drawer, then, no, I can’t just ‘get rid of the penny.’”

Customer: “Are you serious? Wow, this is ridiculous. You guys do it for me all the time!”

(This makes me wonder how often he does this.)

Me: “Well, I don’t believe it’s allowed to just change the total.”

Customer: “Can’t you ask?” *rolls eyes*

Me: “Uh, no. I already know the answer. I’m sorry, but are you sure you don’t have any change?”

Customer: *angrily hands me a dollar*

Me: *gives him 99 cents back, with a big smile on my face* “Have a fantastic day, sir!”

(I know it’s just a penny, but come on, dude. Just pay your total and don’t throw a fit.)

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Dye Hard

, , , , , | Working | March 29, 2018

I am stuck at home, mostly in bed, due to severe health issues. I decided to order some dyes and dyeable clothing, to have something low-energy to do to amuse myself.

There was a special detergent — made by the company themselves — to get clothes ultra-clean so they would dye evenly. Since I bought a lot of dyeables, I got a whole gallon of the detergent to prep it all.

When I went to the post office to get the shipment, one of the boxes was leaking powdered dye. I got it all over my clothes, hands, and car. The car took almost two hours to clean once I got home; this was absolutely exhausting when the monthly trip to town was already pushing my limits. I apologized to the postal workers, because I suppose they wrecked their clothes handling it and had a mess to clean up in their storage area. I’m sure the delivery driver had a mess, too.

When I had rested up a couple days and was ready for more hassle, I opened it — creating another big mess to clean up — and saw the problem. The dye was in thin, brittle, and extremely fragile plastic jars, and they put the gallon jug of detergent in the same box, almost guaranteeing the dye jars would be crushed. I also saw that they’d put all the dyeable clothing, shopping bags, and scarves I’d ordered in there, so that they were at high risk of getting stained when the inevitable happened.

I emailed the company, thinking I was complaining about an incompetent newbie in the shipping department, and was shocked to hear back that they didn’t consider this a mistake. This was their policy — to put heavy objects in with crushable dye canisters and vulnerable white cloth — because “it was would cost more to ship in several boxes.” So, they willingly do this to people, to save a couple bucks? Weird.

Also, she scolded me for accepting the parcel. Apparently, you can refuse a damaged package and it gets sent back. A: How would I know that? Since they habitually sabotage their own parcels, maybe they should have “in case of leaks” instructions on their invoices or FAQ page. And B: If I had done that, numerous other trucks, facilities, and handlers would have been stained, so I am glad I didn’t. At least one person in this story tries to protect others from preventable problems!

The rep hinted that I could still send the dyeables back for replacement if they got stained. I hate wastefulness. I didn’t want a big pile of items going in the garbage if I could help it, so I did what I could to rescue them.

I can’t express how messy this dye is. A teaspoonful would likely tint a swimming pool full of water. And the powder is so light that it flies everywhere when jostled. It’s very hard to clean up.

I set up a garden hose to flow next to the floor drain in the basement. I rinsed the plastic bags everything came in — very carefully, to reduce splashing, and nude, to avoid wrecking my clothes — and hosed the spilled dye down the floor drain. Then, I removed the plastic bags to rinse the products where dye had gotten through the bags through little tears. I was left exhausted, with stained hands and feet, and a mess in the basement that took another hour to clean up, but I succeeded in rescuing almost all the products!

You’d think the seller would be grateful they didn’t have to replace the products. You’d think they would feel ashamed at the idea of a disabled person spending four to five hours cleaning due to their weird shipping methods. Nope. They offered me a coupon for ten dollars off next time I buy from them. Of course, we all know I would never risk buying from them again in a million years after this nightmare! And ten dollars is practically nothing. Way, way under minimum wage for all the hours of work they caused me. If the ten dollars had even been given directly to me, in cash, it would have been an insulting amount. But they cleverly avoided having to actually give me a dime.

What they should have done is refund me for part of my purchase, maybe 20% or something, to make amends for the trouble. I can’t believe they put me through all this and did nothing to apologize.

All I wanted was a fun little craft project.

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The Manager Is A Regular A**hole

, , , , , | Working | March 29, 2018

Our local farm-style restaurant just underwent a remodel. While they were closed during the work they lost quite a few experienced cooks and servers; with no pay, the workers couldn’t afford to wait for the reopen. After the restaurant did reopen, we witnessed multiple mistakes. Here is what happened one evening:

Twenty minutes after ordering two soups online, I went into town to pick them up. I had to wait at the restaurant over 40 minutes because they had to defrost more soup. So, it took them more than an hour to microwave frozen soup. Yes, they defrost with a microwave.

While waiting for the soup, I overhead a server relaying a customer complaint. The manager’s response was, “Are they regulars? Because if they’re not regulars, f*** them!”

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