It’s A Bad Time Of The Month, But Not The Time Of The Month

, , , , | Related | September 2, 2017

Mum: *hands me a garbage bag* “Here you go!”

Me: “Why are you giving me this?”

Mum: “Because it’s time to clean the car, like you agreed.”

Me: “No, I agreed to cut the lawn. [Sister] does the car this week.”

Mum: “Well, she’s lying down. It’s her—” *whispers* “—time of the month.”

Me: “How long does the ‘time of the month’ last?”

Mum: “About a week. Surely you knew that!”

Me: “I do. It’s just, she used that excuse two weeks ago.”

(I leave and start cleaning the car. I hear shouting from inside, and after a while my mum appears with my sister.)

Mum: “[My Name], you can go back inside. [Sister] will finish up, AFTER apologising.”

Sister: “But MUM! I’m really on my period this time!”

Mum: “Then this will be a good lesson for you. Pretending to be on your period to get out of chores… It’s no wonder men don’t take us seriously at work!”

(I sneaked out later to help, feeling a bit sorry for her. She wasn’t too happy with me. My mum doesn’t trust her at all now, and marks off a calendar whenever she says she can’t do her chores because of her period.)

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No Longer Part Of The Charity Machine

, , , , , , | Right | September 2, 2017

(My husband and I both work at a community centre, which provides emergency relief [food vouchers and parcels, help to get medications and pay bills such as rent, electricity, etc.] generally only four times a year, but some people take advantage of this. I have just been promoted from a volunteer to a paid worker, while my husband has been a paid worker for two years. We go to a local pub for dinner to celebrate. After dinner, we decide to put a couple of dollars in the pokies. My husband goes to the bathroom and to get drinks while I choose a machine. There are only handful of people in the gaming room. I find a machine I like and put a couple of dollars in it, and on my second spin I win some free games. I notice an older lady standing behind me, watching as I win over $60. As I go to play it down to an even $60, I can hear her mumbling behind me but don’t pay any attention. I happen to get the free games again, taking my total up to just over $100. I get a coin bucket and push “collect” when I’m pushed off my chair. I look up to see the old lady grabbing dollar coins from the machine.)

Me: “What the h***?”

Lady: “This is my machine. You’re playing my machine, so this is my money.”

(I’m confused, as there was no credit on the machine or reserve sign up. My husband and the gaming manager race over to help me.)

Husband: “What the heck are you doing to my wife?”

Lady: “She’s trying to steal my money. That’s my machine.”

Manager: *after radioing for security* “Ma’am, you weren’t playing a machine. I have to ask you to give this lady her money back and leave, unless she would like to press assault charges. You will also be banned from here.”

Lady: “No, this is my machine, I always play this machine. I spend more here in a week than they’d make in a whole month. You ban them.”

(By this time, two security guards have arrived and my husband has helped me up, I decline to press charges and she is escorted out, screaming about how it’s her machine. We are given vouchers for drinks and the restaurant. The next week at the community centre, I’m being trained in the welfare side of things, as I had only worked in the second hand shop before, when the lady from the pub comes in. She doesn’t recognise me, but I pull aside the senior worker who is training me and explain what has happened. She explains that this lady comes in every week demanding food vouchers, payment for her prescriptions, and help with rent and bills. They had already decided to just give her a food parcel and advise her on financial counselling if she came back within three months, but after I explain what happened at the pub, this is what the senior worker does.)

Senior Worker: “I’m sorry Mrs. [Lady], but we are unable to assist you anymore. I can give you the numbers of some other places that may be able to help you.”

Lady: “What? No, you are a charity; you have to help me. I need food vouchers and these bills paid now.”

Senior Worker: “I’m afraid that, no, we don’t have to help you, as we generally only assist every three months, and if it’s more than that we only give food parcels. You have been here every week for the last three months, demanding assistance. I’m sorry; we can’t help you anymore for the next 12 months.”

Lady: “What? This is an outrage. How am I meant to pay my rent? How am I meant to eat? I have diabetes, you know. If I die because of not eating, it’s all your fault.”

Senior Worker: “Ma’am, as I said, I’ve got a list of numbers here that may help you, but can I suggest not spending more in a week than I make a whole month at [Pub]?”

(I tried not to laugh as the lady looked between me and the senior worker. She finally recognised my husband and me as another worker arrived to escort her out, all while she was screaming how it was her machine and her money, and how she was going to die because we wouldn’t give her food. The manager contacted other services in the area to warn them about her.)

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Chester Bennington Was His Grandma

, , , | Working | September 1, 2017

Me: “Where is [Worker]? He hasn’t signed in for the early shift?”

Manager: “He came to me yesterday saying his grandmother had died. He said he needed to take today off for the funeral. He promised he would be back tomorrow.”

Me: “Which grandmother?”

Manager: “With it being such a sensitive topic, I didn’t want to pry.”

Me: “His mother’s grandmothers are in the store right now. I just caught up with them as I came in. His father’s grandmother lives in Australia, so unless I’ve just met the Messiah, I very much doubt he’s going to a funeral in Australia and has the time to be back tomorrow morning.”

(The manager blushes and starts making some phone calls.)

Manager: “I can’t get through to him.”

(I searched the store and found his grandmothers. They told me he traveled south for a get-together with friends. They weren’t too impressed when I told them about his story, and  they agreed to phone him. They assured me he’d be back up the next day with a written apology. He handed both myself and the other manager an apology, and did seem genuinely sympathetic. While he left, I noticed a new tattoo on his arm of Linkin Park’s logo, with the weekend’s date underneath. Seems like it was probably more than just a get-together, but to claim a family member had died…)

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Your Scam Method Is Broke

, , , , | Right | August 31, 2017

Customer: *brings item up to the front counter* “Hi, I noticed this is broken. Can I get it for half off?”

Me: “Oh, bummer. Were there any others back there on the shelf like it?”

Customer: “No, not of this color. Can I just get this half off?”

Me: “Well, I know for a fact that I have more of those in that color in the back that aren’t broken. I’ll go get one for you.”

Customer: “No, I want this one. Just put it in the computer for half off. It’s broken.”

Me: “I can see that it is. But I can’t take 50% off just because that corner is chipped off, especially since I know I have plenty that aren’t broken. Would you like me to go get one?”

Customer: “If you can’t give me a discount, I don’t want it. Can’t you just type it in?”

Me: “Only managers can do that, and even if I was a manager, the computer only goes to 20% off. But unless it’s the only one left and severely damaged, I can’t do that for you.”

Customer: *tosses (somewhat fragile) item onto counter* “Whatever.”

(When I went back to where the items are displayed, there were three more on the shelf just like the one she had brought up, same color and all. She must have looked through to find the specific broken one, or maybe even broke it herself in hopes of getting a discount!)

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Forever Young, Forever Scamming

, , | Working | August 31, 2017

(This first incident happened many years ago, at our first flat. A lady comes knocking on our door.)

Lady: “Hello, my husband has just passed away and I’m raising my young son alone. I’m selling joss sticks and incense papers to make a living. Please buy some from me.”

Mum: “I’m sorry, but I’m a Christian. I don’t use those. Do you have anything else to sell?”

(Long story short, eventually my mum buys something. We move after a few years and have now been living there a few years already. My mum hears a knock on the door, and answers. It is the same lady.)

Lady: “Hello, my husband has just passed away and I’m raising my young son alone. I’m selling joss sticks and incense papers to make a living. Please buy some from me.”

Mum: “What? Your child was young years ago, now he still hasn’t grown up? My own kids are grown and working already.”

Lady: “If you don’t want to buy, just say so!”

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