Someone Was Asking For It

, , , , | Working | August 14, 2019

(It’s some time before sunrise on a cold, rainy day. I decide to stop by a fast food restaurant on my way to work. While ordering, it seems to me that the lady on the microphone isn’t feeling too happy, and who can blame her with this weather? I decide to help out.)

Me: “Listen, can I buy you guys some coffee? How many of you are in there right now?”

Worker: “Really? There’s five of us.”

Me: “Okay, add five coffees to the bill. Enjoy!”

(She thanks me and everything proceeds as normal. But as I’m paying, the manager stomps up to the window, utterly livid. All but yelling, he points a stabbing finger at the worker.)

Manager: “Did they ask for coffees?!”

(I don’t figure out immediately what he is implying and wonder whether one of them may have wanted some other drink.)

Me: “Yeah, they all did.”

Worker: *suddenly struck with terror* “No! No!”

(I realize that the manager means whether the worker asked me to get them something in the first place, and I panic slightly, not wanting them to get into trouble.)

Me: “Oh! No, they didn’t ask first, I offered… Everyone looked miserable and I thought I’d cheer them up! On my own initiative! It was my idea!”

Manager: *crossing his arms skeptically* “Really. Okay, here’s your meal.” *hands me my meal* “Good-bye.”

(As I drive off, I look in my rear-view mirror to see the manager sticking his head out of the window, sneering, and shaking his head, before going back inside abruptly and slamming the window. I get that there may have been some earlier incident to bring on this hefty reaction, but wow, guy. I only hope the workers didn’t get into further trouble. What a way to start the week.)

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Every Racist Bone In His Body

, , , , | Right | October 19, 2018

(I am a manager at a particular restaurant with very high after-church trade. A well dressed fella enters, making it known to all that he’s the pastor of a local church. After sitting down, having a drink, and ordering a meal; he calls me over.)

Customer: ‘Go tell one of those [awful racist slur] to dig in the bin for bones for my dog.”

Me: *shocked* “Excuse me? One of those whats?”

Customer: *repeats racial slur and points at one of the waiters* “One of those things!”

Me: “Here we refer to people who deliver your food as waiters, not that. We don’t tolerate hate speech.”

Customer: “Well, just tell it to get me bones!”

Me: “Tell HER, and she has a name. You won’t like this but her job is not digging in dustbins and I neither can nor will I insist that she digs in bins. If you want bones, you’re welcome to get them yourself.”

Customer: “I’m a pastor and a customer! If I want a [racist slur] to dig in a bin for me, you damn well will make it happen.”

Me: “Sir, whatever you think of her is up to you. However, she is a human being, she WILL be treated with respect. I believe you might enjoy dining elsewhere. Please leave.”

Customer: “F*** you! You’re nothing but a [racist slur] lover. I’m reporting you.”

Me: “Be my guest. Goodbye.”

(Next day I got a call from head office. Turned out he did report me. Sadly for him, instead of a reprimand, they were well chuffed he got kicked out. The service agent he called also heard countless slurs used.)

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Work For The Company For A Spell

, , , , | Right | March 31, 2018

(I work in a help desk environment, and the majority of the calls we get are for password reset.)

Me: “Help desk. [My Name] speaking.”

Caller: “Yes, I need my password reset, please. I can’t remember it.”

(I take the user’s details and provide her with a new password.)

Me: “The password is the name of the company you work for.”

Caller: “How do I spell that?”

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Brush Off The Hearing Loss

, , , , | Related | August 12, 2017

(I’m playing with my two-year-old son when the following exchange happens.)

Son: “I want to play with the toilet brush!”

Me: “No! Yucky!”

Son: “The toilet brush! The toilet brush!”

Me: “I can’t let you. You can get sick.”

(Son runs to the main bedroom, which has an en-suite bathroom. I chase after him. My wife is in the bedroom.)

Wife: “Hey, what are you looking for?”

Son: “The toilet brush!”

Wife: “The story blocks? Sure, here they are!”

(Son happily walks out of the bedroom with his box of story blocks. I still don’t understand how I got what he said so wrong!)

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