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If You Have An Identity, You Need An ID

, , , , , | Right | September 6, 2020

I am at the store purchasing a few items. This store sells a lot of different things, including alcohol. There are two people in front of me: a boy and a girl.

Employee: *Rings up their items* “And I’m going to need to see some ID for the alcohol.”

Male Customer: “Here you go.”

Employee: “Okay. I’m going to need to see yours, too, miss.”

Female Customer: “But he just showed you his.”

Employee: “Yes, but it’s our policy that we have to see the ID of everyone in the purchasing party.”

Female Customer: *Getting angry* “But I didn’t bring mine with me because I didn’t think that we would need both. It’s not that big of a deal.” 

Employee: “I’m sorry, but I could lose my job. I really need to see both IDs to sell this to you.” 

Customers: “Fine. Forget it, then!”

They leave angrily.

Employee: *Turns to me* “I am so sorry about the wait.”

Me: “Oh, no problem! I completely understand. And you were definitely doing the right thing.”

Employee: “Thanks. It’s just like people don’t realize that I could lose my job. I wouldn’t do that kind of thing over something so trivial. You wouldn’t believe how often this happens.”

Me: “I have no doubt.”

Underaged And Under Observation

, , , , , , | Right | August 20, 2020

I am twenty-seven years old. I am wearing a pink and white coat, my hair is rather long, and I am holding my purse. I go in to the movie theatre.

Me: “Hi, can I get a ticket to the 8:30 pm showing of [Film]?”

Cashier: “Okay. $7.”

The customer behind me speaks up.

Customer: “Hey, baby, didn’t I see ya last night?”

I was at home all night.

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Course you were; you were at that pink building.”

I am very confused. He proceeds to get a camera out and show me a picture. It is a girl DEFINITELY younger than me. She is dancing.

Me: “That’s… not me.”

Customer: “Sure it was, sweetie. You wanna get a soda together or go for another ride?”

I am feeling sick and light-headed. I also get very scared because I am CERTAIN the girl in the picture is underage.

Me: “Sir, I promise that I was in my home all last night. Besides, that girl is eighteen! I’m twenty-seven! And she could be younger; I have no idea.”

The cashier looks at the camera.

Cashier: “I know that girl. She’s on my street. It’s not you; you don’t have the tattoo. Boy, her mother’s gonna have a word with her.”

Customer: “So, she isn’t twenty-two?”

Cashier: “No, she’s at [High School].”

The customer went red and said he didn’t know. The “pink building” was a few blocks away and she stole her sister’s ID to work there.

A Double Coat Of Entitlement

, , , , , | Right | June 18, 2020

I work at a small animal hospital that offers limited boarding and grooming services. Our main focus is on healthcare. Because we are a small practice with many of our employees working in dual departments for coverage, we have rules for when we can provide certain services.

For example, if you want “grooming,” we require animals to make appointments a couple of days ahead and they have to be dropped off in the morning. This way we can make sure we have someone who can give the dog a bath with enough time to dry and be brushed out. We make exceptions for small, short-haired dogs like Chihuahuas.

It is 2:30 pm.

Client: “I would like to bring my pet in for a bath.”

Me: “Okay, let me pull up your account. What is your last name and your pets’ name, and when would you like to bring your pet in?”

Client: “I am [Client] and I would like to bring her in this afternoon if that’s okay.”

On the account I see that the pet is a long-haired, hundred-pound shepherd mix who is also aggressive.

Me: “Unfortunately, ma’am, we do not do grooming services in the afternoon since we don’t have the time nor the staff available.”

Client: “Really? But I really need to get her in. We are getting new carpet put in today so I need her to be clean.”

Me: “I am sorry, ma’am, but we can’t do a bath on a double-coated dog this late in the day.”

Client: “Can’t you just ask [Doctor]? She knows me.”

I go to the doctor who is also the owner of the practice and fill her in. Originally, she says no but when I inform the client, she presses again. I go back to the doctor and she agrees but with conditions.

Me: “Okay, [Doctor] says it is okay if you bring [Pet] in now. You can expect her to be done right before we close at 5:30. We cannot promise that we will be able to brush her out completely but we will do the best we can. Please try to be in the clinic no later than 5:15 to pick her up.”

The client shows up thirty minutes later and the technician who really should be helping the doctors gets started on giving the pet a bath. At 4:15 pm:

Client: “Hi. I just want to know if my pet is ready for pick up.”

Me: “No, she is still pretty wet. It takes a long time for double-coated dogs to dry.”

Client: “Can you give me a time when she will be ready?”

Me: “She probably won’t be ready until right before we close at 5:30.”

Client: “She won’t be ready sooner? I need to plan out the rest of the night; I don’t want to have to wait around for her to be ready.”

Me: “Ma’am, we are doing the best we can to get her back to you. Like I said, double-coated dogs take a long time to dry. Then, we have to brush her really good because if we don’t you will have little puffs of white hair everywhere. The bath and the dryer loosen up the undercoat. You don’t want to have dog hair all over your new carpet, do you?”

Client: “We aren’t getting carpet put in today; we are just getting our house measured for new carpet.”

Me: *Frustrated pause* “You can pick your pet up at 5:15.”

The Owner’s Bark Is Worse Than The Pet’s Bite

, , , , | Right | March 30, 2020

(I am working at a fancy vet office close to the rich part of town, so most of our clients are more willing to do what is necessary for their pets regardless of cost. An older couple brings their senior small breed in for teeth cleaning.

The vet assistant is responsible for going over admissions paperwork that includes optional services and a section that would allow the doctor to do teeth extractions without calling the owner first. We include this option because many times, we cannot get a hold of the owner to ask permission. after the client has been placed in a room I enter ready to go over paperwork.)

Me: “Good morning! I have some paperwork to go over with you really quick, and then we can take [Pet] back and get him started with his procedure.”

(The woman starts to fill out the form while I’m going over what each section is. When I get to the part about optional services that, of course, cost extra, i.e. nail trims, more in-depth blood work, etc. She throws the pen down and starts yelling at me.)

Woman: “Don’t you dare try to sell me something!”

Me: “I am sorry, I was just going over the form; these are additional services you can add on if you’d like but you don’t have to.”

(She just stares at me sternly, so I move on to the part of the form that allows the doctor to do extractions.)

Me: “Okay, do you allow the doctor to do what is necessary as far as extractions go or would you prefer—”

Woman: “I told you not to sell me anything. I don’t want to hear it! If the doctor wants me to do something she can tell me herself!”

Me: “Okay, would you—”

(I was going to say, “Would you like me to get the doctor?”)


Me: “Fine.”

(I leave the room and go get her doctor and tell her that she needs to go into the room and finish the check-in, because I will not be talked to like that again. The doctor knows who the couple is.)

Doctor: “Oh, yeah, they can be weird like that.”

(Apparently, after the doctor went in, they were all smiles and agreed to let the doctor do whatever she needed to.)

The Agony Of De-Feet

, , , , , , | Related | March 16, 2020

Growing up, I managed to name most of the cats my family owned, for one reason or another. My favorite by far, though, had to be my brother’s cat.

When we were going through the process of naming her, we managed to narrow our options down to two choices: Socks, my brother’s suggestion, and Feet, mine. Both were in reference to her white paws, as compared to her grey body.

To keep my brother and me from arguing about it, my dad had us agree to sleep on it. That night, the household awoke to my brother screaming and cursing in his room. The reason? His cat had apparently peed on his feet while he was sleeping.

I, being the five-year-old I was, told him that she decided her name for us. I wasn’t exactly wrong.