When You Room With Pigs…

, , , , | Learning | August 9, 2020

I am working a full-time job when I decide to get a university degree. My colleagues then regale me with some of their university experiences. One of them tells me this story.

Colleague: “I shared a flat with two other guys and we never really got around to doing the dishes. We would just pile them up in the sink and if we needed one, we would take the top one, wash it in the bathroom, and put it back on top of the pile after using it. One day, a friend visited and decided to help us out. He soaked all the dishes so we could then clean them. We didn’t, though, and everything became moldy and disgusting.”

Me: “And then?”

Colleague: “We just locked the kitchen door and never went back in.”

Me: “But what about when you moved out?”

Colleague: “I don’t know. They condemned the building and tore it down.”

I guess that is one way of getting out of doing the dishes.

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Hatred Is Branching Out

, , , , | Right | August 8, 2020

I work for a company that has two stores within four miles of each other. I get a phone call from a customer requesting the part number for an item; after determining the part number, I tell the customer the number and the price. Then, this happens.

Me: “Would you like me to put that part on hold for you?”

Customer: “No, that’s all right. I’m looking at it on the shelf right now.”

Me: “Um…”

Customer: “I’m in your other store. I just hate the people here and didn’t want to talk to them.”

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At Least She Didn’t Waste Their Time

, , , | Working | August 7, 2020

I work at a VERY busy family medical clinic. The job of a receptionist is by far the worst job in the office. Between phones ringing, scheduling appointments, updating insurance, and taking payments, there are times I don’t see how our current receptionist keeps her sanity. 

The current receptionist gives her two-week notice and we start looking for someone to fill the position. Needless to say, this job requires being able to multi-task and being willing to work hard to get the job done.

On this particular day, during flu season, we are especially busy and everybody is having to work hard to keep their cool and stay professional. As the receptionist is finishing up one call and answering another, a lady comes through the front door wearing a dirty looking T-shirt, sweatpants, and a ball cap. She stands at the front window waiting for someone to help her. 

The receptionist finishes her call.

Receptionist: “Can I help you?”

Lady: “Yeah, I was wondering about the job you have posted.”

Receptionist: “Sure. Have you filled out the application online?”

Lady: “No. I was wanting to know before I did, is this job hard? Because if it’s hard, I’m not going to bother.”

Receptionist: “…”

Needless to say, she did not get called for an interview.

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When They Can’t Handle You Speaking Up For Yourself

, , , , , | Right | August 6, 2020

I work security and concierge for a high-end condo complex and have been doing so for ten years. I am female. I am covering for another guard who broke a hip in a major auto accident.

As the site is an extremely expensive condo complex, I have been warned that some of the residents, all very rich people, are… well… a trifle rude and overbearing to those they consider beneath them.

As an aside, I broke my back a year before I took this site and I am unable to lift or carry anything over ten pounds. I am lucky to still be able to walk.

I am at my post greeting residents, calling for the valets to bring their cars, arranging for limos, and coordinating deliveries for them when one well-heeled resident walks in the doors. She is carrying multiple heavy, stuffed grocery bags and two suitcases. She immediately drops them on the floor of the lobby.

Resident: “You!” *Points at me* “Take those up to 713! Now!

I stare at her. This woman is at least fifteen years younger than I am, and since she doesn’t have a job — a “kept” woman — she spends a large chunk of her day working out in the complex’s extensive gym. While we may arrange for cars and drivers and do other minor tasks for residents, we are not to leave our post and are absolutely not their personal slaves.

Even though I am bristling and just itching to tell her off, I have to remain polite.

Me: “Ma’am, I am building security and cannot leave this post.”

Resident: “Pick up those bags and take them upstairs now! I have more important things to do than talk to useless menials!”

Me: “Right now, the only important thing you need to be doing is learning some g**d*** manners. Pick up and carry your own d*** bags!”

The resident’s face goes bright red and she stalks off towards the elevators, without the bags and suitcases, which she leaves in a pile on the lobby floor.

Me: “Hey, you! If you don’t have these bags cleared out of this lobby in ten minutes, they’re all going in the garbage!”

The resident muttered a string of expletives as she got into the elevator. I gave her a little longer than ten minutes and then had another worker help me drag the bags into the security office. Had she come back even within a couple of days, her stuff would have been returned — any longer and a lot of the groceries would have spoiled — but her precious groceries ended up being donated by me to a women’s shelter.

I kept the suitcases and their contents in Lost & Found for three months and then donated them to the same shelter. I figured the hard-working, very deserving women who were forced into that shelter deserved all that nice stuff far better than that rich b**** did.

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Apparently, Laziness Now Overrides Policy

, , , , , | Working | August 6, 2020

I order a Hotwheels set online for my daughter for Christmas. The toy company sends me an expansion instead of a base set that I ordered. I call customer support, and they promise they are going to ship me the correct item and a postage-paid box to return the old one and I should receive those within three days.

I wait over a week and this doesn’t happen. On the receipt, it says you can return the online items to any [Toy Store] location.

I go to the nearest location of that store with my receipt and item and get in the line for customer service which is out the door. I finally get up to the desk.

Me: “I ordered online and I was sent the wrong item. I’d like to get a refund on this. Here is my receipt.”

Clerk: “We don’t do online returns here. You have to call customer service and arrange shipping.”

Me: “I already did. And I never received the item I was supposed to or the box to ship this back. It says on my receipt that I can return it here.”

I point on the receipt where it says that.

Clerk: “The last time a lady like you walked in with one of those online orders, she left with it.”

Me: “We’ll see. I’m going to need to talk to your manager.”

Clerk: “You don’t need to talk to her. She will tell you the same thing.”

Me: “I’d like to talk to her anyway.”

The clerk rolls her eyes and goes to get the manager.

Manager: “What can I do for you?”

I explain the situation as I did before.

Manager: “Not a problem at all. I’ll just need the receipt for your order number.”

The manager takes the receipt and starts typing.

Clerk: “If you do it for her, they will all think they can!”

Manager: “They can! It’s store policy.”

Clerk: “It’s a pain to enter that stuff!”

Manager: “That’s not the customer’s fault. Now stop.”

The rest of the transaction went smoothly, though the clerk glared at me over the manager’s shoulder the whole time.

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