Their Business Is Flat-Lining

, , , | Working | September 18, 2017

(I’m a newly graduated university student looking for my own place to live so I don’t have to move back to my hometown. I go to one of the local letting agencies, all of which are within a minute walk of each other. The first place has a young woman there to talk to; she already looks disinterested in me.)

Worker: “How can I help?”

Me: “I’m looking for a place to rent. My budget is allowing for between £250-350 a month for the rent alone. I don’t really mind about the place itself or how many rooms or anything, just so long as it can fit within that budget.”

Worker: *scoffs* “Okay, well I’ll look up those details for you now.”

(She looks up the information…)

Worker: “Right, so, I’ve found a flat that’s £500 a month. This looks pretty decent right?”

Me: “I guess it does, but like I said, my budget would only allow a maximum of £350. I couldn’t afford that right now.”

Worker: “Okay, well, here’s a place that is £350.” *gives info on it*

Me: “Yeah, that seems okay; when would I be able to view it?”

Worker: “We can book you in for a viewing next Monday at 11:30 am. Would that be okay?”

Me: “Yeah, that’ll be fine.”

Worker: “You’ll need to phone us on that day, a half hour before, to confirm that you can make the appointment.”

Me: “Oh… Um, sorry, but that will be a little awkward for me. I’m on a PAYG phone and have no credit at the minute, and I’m not paid until the end of the month. Would no one here be able to phone me instead?”

Worker: *scoffs again* “Um, no, we don’t do that here. If you can’t phone us to confirm, then we can’t book a viewing for you.”

(I just left, choosing not to call her some choice words. I walked literally down the road to the next agency, and I was welcomed quite warmly by a nice elderly lady who actually listens to my price limit at the start. She made a point of only looking in the “nice area of town,” because I certainly look like a “nice lad.” I know it was kind of cheap flattery, but it wasn’t a swindle, it was honestly further into the less rough areas of town. She even made a point of calling the landlord right then and organising a viewing just two hours after my meeting with her. A week later, and I was all signed up at a studio flat at £285 a month, well within my budget. Honestly, it was no wonder that the first place I went to was empty, but the second place with the nice lady already had two couples talking to other advisers.)

On This Bus You’re Living On A Prayer

, , , , | Working | September 16, 2017

I was waiting for my regular bus on a rainy day. On that day, the company sent out an extra bus in addition to the regular bus, and the extra arrived first. I was hesitant to get on it, because sometimes the extras don’t do the full route, and my stop was pretty far.

The driver really didn’t want to leave anyone standing there, though, and urged us all to get on. Every time we stopped, he did this spiel: “The regular bus is right behind me, but it might be full, so you should get on now, because I have plenty of room!”

Then, as he reached the halfway point of the route, at a stop filled with people, he refused to open the front door to let people in and suddenly announced, “Okay, I’m turning around! Everyone out!”

He never once indicated that he wasn’t doing the full route, he really pushed people to get on, even if they were reluctant, and then he just dumped us without any warning. The regular bus was not right behind him, and I had to walk another half mile in the rain and spend the rest of the day with jeans wet to the knee. I know I wasn’t the only one. Goodness knows why he harangued us all to board if he was just going to dump us halfway.

Labelled As Dysfunctional

, , , , , , | Working | September 15, 2017

(The company I currently work for does this thing where employees can transfer to neighboring restaurants of the same company to work for a couple of days, even weeks. My general manager decides to transfer me to the one downtown. That restaurant is rumored to be the most dysfunctional yet, and I don’t want to take it straight from the horse’s mouth until I’ve actually experienced it. That day, I am completely clueless, because I’ve never worked the breakfast shift. Most people there are understanding; however, this cook from a different county isn’t taking any bulls*** from me.)

Cook: *throws sandwich on heat chute* “Here you go.”

Me: *looks at unmarked sandwich* “What’s this?”

Cook: *condescendingly* “Aren’t you supposed to know what it is, since you rang it up?”

Me: *speechless, packs food instead*

(This pattern continues well into the beginning of lunch. The cook makes a particular, well-known sandwich, with some adjustments, and just tosses it on the heat chute. And, not to my surprise, it isn’t labeled.)

Me: *waves sandwich at the cook* “What’s this?”

Cook: *sarcastically* “A dead cow between two burger buns, that we call a burger. But in [Restaurant] we call it [Burger].”

Me: *losing patience* “I know that, but we have at least 12 of these [Burgers] spoken for in the last 20 minutes, and I need to know which is which.”

Cook: *irate* “B****, CAN’T YOU READ?!”

Me: *finally fed up* “B****, CAN’T YOU LABEL S***?!”

(All is quiet, followed by a couple of “ohhs” from employees and customers nearby. I toss the burger back at the cook for her to see the unmarked wrapper.)

Cook: “I… um…”

Me: “Is this for drive-thru, front counter, or what? Because we are not f****** mind-readers.”

Cook: *huffs and walks away*

(I didn’t hear another word from her after the confrontation, but at least I found out why everything there was dysfunctional. This restaurant kept bringing in crazy people from other stores to work for them. Needless to say, when the manager asked me to come in the next day, I had no trouble telling them to f*** off.)

Your Child Knows Copyright From Wrong

, , , , | Working | September 15, 2017

(My daughter is used for ads in another country, and the photographer gives me digital copies to use as I want. I take my daughter everywhere with me, because I’m a single mom. I go to get copies of the unused shots for the grandparents.)

Worker: “We can’t print these.”

Me: “Why?”

Worker: “They are obviously not yours!”

Me: “I’ve been given the right to use them.”

Worker: “Well, that’s not your kid!”

Me: *looking down at my kid* “She’s not?!”

My Kid: *looking up* “Hi! I’m [Name].” *then spells it* “I’m four!”

Worker: “That doesn’t prove she’s yours!”

Me: “I’ll go elsewhere.”

Anti Antibiotics

, , , , | Working | September 13, 2017

(I went to the doctor a few days ago because of an infection I had, and got antibiotics for it. The infection cleared up, but I am now noticing that my tongue is turning yellow, swollen, and somewhat bumpy. I go to the doctor again, to make sure I’m not having a bad allergic reaction to the antibiotics.)

Doctor: “You think that you’re having an allergic reaction to the antibiotics?”

Me: “Yes; my tongue is turning weird colors and it feels swollen.”

Doctor: *looks at my tongue* “Well, I don’t see anything that concerns me.”

Me: “You’re sure? It doesn’t feel normal.”

(The doctor proceeds to Google what the possible side effects could be for this antibiotic.)

Doctor: “Are you sure that you don’t just have food stuck to your tongue?”

Me: “…”

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