Making A Mad Dash On The Dash-Cam

, , , , , , , | Friendly | January 15, 2018

(I drive heavy goods vehicles for a company that primarily delivers farm equipment. Due to the nature of who we deliver to, we often wind up on roads that aren’t, strictly speaking, designed to accommodate vehicles that are 60 feet long. As such, a certain degree of understanding from anyone coming the opposite direction is needed, since my vehicle generally takes up so much of the road that passing is only possible via them staying in an entrance to a field, or the rare dedicated passing spot that small rural roads sometimes have. I have just completed my delivery to a large farm and I am leaving the site, followed by several vehicles from said farm. I am roughly halfway between the farm and the passing point when a twenty-something woman drives past the passing point at speed and continues down the lane to come to a stop barely five feet in front of me. I know, given the size of my vehicle and the numerous vehicles behind me, that I can’t possibly get out of her way, so I simply wind down my window and wait for her to make a move.)

Woman: *getting out of car* “You need to move.”

Me: “The lane’s too tight for me to manoeuvre to the side, and I can’t back up because there’s vehicles behind me. You’re going to have to back up to the passing point.”

Woman: “I don’t care how hard it is for you; I’m not moving, so you’ll have to.”

(Knowing that sooner or later someone in the vehicles behind me will come along to back me up, I opt to just stare her down rather than trying to argue with her.)

Woman: “Well? Come on! I have to get moving! Get out of the way. I own the f****** farm! I have right of way. Move, NOW!”

(After another couple minutes of this, someone from the convoy behind me finally comes up to support me, and it’s clear he has little love for the stroppy woman in front of us.)

Farm Man: “[Woman], what are you playing at? There’s a line of cars behind this lorry. We aren’t all backing up for you, so back yourself up to the passing point.”

Woman: “I’m not moving. I own the farm so I have right of way!”

Farm Man: “Your uncle owns the farm. You don’t even live here; you just show up to ride horses a couple times a week. We aren’t all moving for you. Back up.”

Woman: “I’ll just tell [Uncle] and get you fired if you don’t move.”

Farm Man: “There’s over a dozen people in this queue. Apart from this guy here in the lorry, all of us work at the farm. Good luck with that.”

(With this, he turns and walks back to his car, and the woman, finally realising an entire convoy isn’t going to whisk itself out of her way, gets back into her car and starts backing up. The distance back to the passing point is perhaps 1/4 of a mile with a couple mild turns; even reversing slowly it should take no more than two or three minutes to make it back. I slowly follow after her, keeping about 50 feet away from her at all times. All seems to be fine until she arrives at the first bend in the lane. After several failed attempts at getting round it in reverse, she seemingly loses all patience, slams on the accelerator, and crashes backwards through a wooden fence, all captured by my dash-cam. Before I’ve even pulled up to where she crashed, she’s out of her car and screaming at me that I have destroyed her car.)

Woman: “You f****** a**hole! You’ve crashed my car! You can f****** pay for repairs, you c***!”

Me: “You managed that all by yourself; clearly you aren’t injured, so I’ll be on my way now.”

Woman: “Don’t you dare drive off. I’ll have your job, you b******! I’ll report you to your boss!”

Me: “The company phone number is on the side of the cab. I do have dash-cam footage of you putting yourself through that fence, though, so maybe think twice before you ring up. Goodbye.”

(I then drive off past her, ignoring the further ranting, and noting with a certain amount of satisfaction that not one of the vehicles behind me makes any attempt to stop and help her. About an hour later my boss rings me.)

Boss: “I’ve just had a complaint about you from a very angry woman saying you threw her out of her car and crashed it backwards through a fence because she wouldn’t get out of your way. Care to explain it for me?”

Me: “She managed it all by herself. I never even left the cab, and I certainly didn’t fling her from her car. I’ll be back at base in about four hours. You can check the dash-cam footage, but there’s no way anyone could say it was any fault but hers.”

(I got back to base. My boss had a look at the footage, concluded that the accident was no one’s fault but the woman’s, and proceeded to rip her a new one on the phone about abusing his staff and making fake claims against them. She did then try to go through insurance about it, but again, once they’d seen the footage, they shut her down. I do have to wonder, looking back, how self-entitled someone has to be to first demand that an entire convoy of vehicles move for you, and then somehow blame me for her own shoddy driving when she backed through a fence, and THEN be so full of themselves to fabricate a story about it even after I’d warned her that all of it was recorded by my dash-cam.)

Today Is A Good Day To Lie

, , , , , , , | Related | January 12, 2018

(My husband’s sister is obnoxious. She’s always better than you at just about everything, or thinks she knows more about a subject than you. Note that she is woman in her 30s, not a child, so it is in no way endearing. One day while visiting my in-laws, she’s there, and I mention to the nephews that I’m thinking of learning Klingon.)

Nephew #1: “Oh, cool! It’d be really awesome to be able to do that.”

Nephew #2: “You could put stuff on a t-shirt in Klingon and nobody would know what it said! It’d be so awesome!”

Sister-In-Law: *smugly* “I love Star Trek so much that I’m learning Klingon! It’s so easy that I’m nearly fluent!”

(I roll my eyes, knowing that she’s full of bull, but I decide to have a bit of fun with her.)

Me: “Then what’s a p’tak? I’ve heard it in several different series but never could figure out what it was.”

Sister-In-Law: *scoffs* “Oh, that’s an easy one! It means ‘friend.'”

(I cough to hide my laughter, as does my husband, because we know that it does NOT mean ‘friend.’ The nephews even shake their head at her in disbelief.)

Me: “Are you sure? I’d hate to accidentally insult someone by calling them a p’tak. I don’t think it means ‘friend.’”

Sister-In-Law: *snottily* “Yes, it means ‘friend.’ You must not be much of a fan if you think it means anything else.”

(In her arrogance, my sister-in-law smiled proudly at what she thought was the greatest compliment. Any casual Trek fan knows that ‘p’tak’ is an insult by the context in which it is used in the show.)

Using Black Ops To Get The Game

, , , , , | Right | January 11, 2018

(I’m the manager on duty. I’m working in the back while my employee takes care of customers up front. It’s July but we’ve had a lot of people interested in reserving the new Call of Duty game that will be out in November.)

Employee: “This guy just called and wanted to know if we have Call of Duty: Black Ops 3. I told him it won’t be out until November.”

Me: “Okay.”

Employee: “Well, he asked if I’d sneak him a copy if he gave me $200.”

Me: “Seriously?”

Employee: “Yeah. I told him no, but he wants to talk to a manager.”

Me: “Wow. He’s seriously on hold for that? Wait, are you sure it’s not [Disgruntled Former Employee who’s prank called us before]?”

Employee: “I’m pretty sure it’s not him.”

Me: *picks up the phone* “Thank you for holding. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi, yes. I was just talking to your associate, [Employee], and he told me that I could get Black Ops 3 if I gave him $200.”

Me: “I don’t believe at all that [Employee] would have said that. Besides, that game doesn’t come out until November.”

Customer: “Well, he said that he’d sell it to me for $200.”

Me: “I can assure you that he did not tell you that. Even if I hypothetically believed you, it doesn’t change the fact that the game will not be released until November and we won’t physically have it in the store until then. So, is there anything I can actually help you with?”

Customer: “Well, what if you sold me the game and I gave you $200?”

Me: “No. Absolutely not.”

Customer: “But I’d give you $200. No one has to know.”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Well, [Employee] said he’d sell it to me. Just put him back on the phone and you can listen in secretly and you’ll see.”

Me: “That’s not going to happen. He didn’t tell you that, and we don’t even have the game.”

(The customer starts trying to interrupt me at this point, and so far I’ve stayed remarkably calm, but I’m starting to lose my patience.)

Me: “I really don’t have time for this, so if you have a real question or something that I can actually help you with, then please feel free to call back, but right now I’m done with this conversation.” *click*

It Pays To Have Your Complaint Be Genuine

, , , , , , | Right | January 10, 2018

(I approach a table with an elderly couple to drop off the check.)

Customer: “I want to talk to a manager!”

Me: “Was everything all right?”

(I happen to know that everything was all right. I visited their table multiple times; they said everything was fine.)

Customer: “I want to talk to your manager!”

(I go and get the manager, who happens to be my mother. She doesn’t take anyone’s crap, to put it nicely. I tell her they never addressed an issue with me about anything.)

Mother/Manager: “Hello, sir. What’s wrong? Was there an issue with the service you’ve gotten this evening?”

Customer: “OUR FOOD WAS TERRIBLE, COLD, AND DISGUSTING!”

Mother/Manager: *looks down at their empty plates* “Is that why you ate it all?”

Customer: “I’m not paying!”

Mother/Manager: “Oh, you’re going to pay, even if the police are here breathing down your neck to make you do it.”

(They paid.)

Tidying And Counting And Tags, Oh My!

, , , , , , , | Working | January 10, 2018

(I am a supervisor at a store. Then I leave for a year, and when I return someone else has taken over as supervisor. I don’t care, because I never really wanted the position in the first place, but it seems the new supervisor thinks differently. She often gives me misinformation, getting me into trouble from the manager for not doing the work correctly. This time is no different. She is giving out the daily job list.)

Supervisor: “[My Name], [Manager] said that [Department] is due for a count, but it has to be 100% tidy first. Today, I want you to completely tidy the whole area; spend your whole shift doing it. Don’t worry about the counter; I’ll cover that. When you finish tidying, you can start the count, but don’t worry if it’s not done today. You can finish it when you are in tomorrow afternoon.”

(I start tidying and hear the bell ring down at the counter which means there is a customer waiting. I hear it ring again moments later, so I head down, thinking the supervisor may have gotten stuck with a customer elsewhere. There’s a line of customers waiting. I apologise for the wait and serve them before I hear the door to our office closing at the back of the store. The supervisor comes down to the counter, telling me she had gone to the office for a moment, and sends me back to the department. She tells me to call her if I get a line up again. It happens again, and I notice that the phone line to the office is engaged, which means I can’t call her anyway. She’s on the phone for 20 minutes while I serve customers; there’s no reason for such a long phone call. I do as much of the tidying as I can between serving customers before my shifts ends, as well as scanning to make new price tags for the stock. I am part way through putting them out when the supervisor tells me not to worry; I can put them out the next day. The next afternoon, I get in and immediately am set on by the manager.)

Manager: “[My Name], what the h*** did you do yesterday? That count was due yesterday afternoon. I’ve been working four hours on it this morning; you can take over and do the rest. I told [Supervisor] that you had to do the count yesterday and that you weren’t to serve until it was done. She’s told me that she kept finding you at the counter after she told you to only do the count. Your problem is that you won’t listen.”

Me: “But she told me to tidy the area, first.”

Manager: “I don’t want any excuses; she told me that you were told to tidy as you counted. Don’t argue with me, or I’ll write you up. I also noticed that there are a few price tags missing; you were supposed to make sure they were all there.”

Me: “I have them here, ready to go out.”

(I go and finish the count; it takes another couple of hours. I wonder how I was expected to both tidy and count in the four hour shift the day before, when it’s taken six hours to do the count in the perfectly tidy area. I have the next four days off on my roster, and when I get back the next week, the manager has a go at me again.)

Manager: “[My Name], I told you to make sure [Department] was completely priced. I went over there today and there’s no prices anywhere.”

Me: “Strange, I did them on Thursday last week.”

Manager: “Well, you are responsible for that area, and you need to check it every day.”

Me: “Even when I haven’t worked since Thursday?”

Manager: “What? Oh, just go and do it. Stop arguing.”

(I get into the area, and he’s right; there are no prices anywhere. I redo all of the tags, then start tidying the area, and I notice that some stock has been pulled forward and crooked on a shelf. I find a screwed-up pile of price tags hidden behind the stock.)

Me: “[Manager], I’ve finished putting those tags out, and this is for you.”

(I put the pile of tags on the desk.)

Manager: “What are they?”

Me: “By the look of it, they are all the missing price tags from [Department]. I found them stuffed behind [stock].”

(Unfortunately, I could not prove who had put them there, so the manager decided it had to be a customer.)

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