Since This Story Was Written, Disney Bought Everything  

, , , , , , | Right | October 19, 2019

(I am a manager, working near an employee checking bags at a movie theater. They approach an elderly female guest.)

Employee: “Hello, ma’am, we have a bag check policy here; I do need to check your bag.”

Guest: “Are you Disney certified?”

Employee: “I’m sorry… What?”

Guest: “This is Florida. You need to be certified by Disney to check bags. Can I talk to your manager?”

Me: “I’m right here, ma’am. You don’t need to be certified by Disney to do anything. We need to check your bag.”

Guest: “Not until you prove you’re Disney certified. It’s required.”

Me: “Where are you from?”

Guest: “Jersey.”

Me: “Well, here in Florida, Disney doesn’t own everything yet. So, until then, we need to check your bag or it can’t come in.”

(Hidden in her bag: raisinets, snow caps, four bottles of water, one bottle of Sprite, a bag of hot fries, and peach gummies.)

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, , | Right | October 18, 2019

(One of my jobs at my bank is to send cash by wire transfer. When someone comes up to do this, I have to ask them questions to make sure they aren’t getting scammed or sending for fraudulent activity. One of the most common of these is someone sending money to their “girlfriend” or “boyfriend” that they met online that needs them to send them money “to come to see them.”)

Customer: “I would like to send money to the Bahamas.”

Me: “Okay, who are you sending to?”

Customer: “It’s to my daughter. She needs it for airfare.”

Me: “Okay, that sounds good. What is your daughter’s name?”

(The customer then pulls out his cell phone and reads off a name from his text messages. This sends up a huge red flag that he may not know the person he’s sending to.)

Me: “Sir, you just read a name off to me. I thought you were sending to your daughter.”

Customer: “I am.”

Me: “But you just read me a name. Do you not know your daughter’s name?”

Customer: “This is the name I was told to send to. Are you calling me a liar? This is my daughter I’m sending money to.”

(He then turns his phone around and shows me his text messages. Above the name he was sent was someone requesting money, and above that were two texts from the night before saying, “Good night, my love.”)

Me: “Sir, this isn’t your daughter, and if it is, I don’t really want to know why you two talk to each other like that.”

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This Customer Is In A Really Bad Place  

, , , | Right | October 17, 2019

(I work at a convenience store which has a carwash. We offer unlimited carwashes at a set price for the month where you can go to any of our chain stores and go through the wash as many times as you want. There’s a tag that is sensed at each carwash. A woman in her 20s comes to my register.)

Customer: ”I have a tag that is in a bad place on my car, and at other stores, as long as I show them, they give me a carwash.”

Me: “You have a tag that’s in a bad place? How so?”

Customer: “It’s in a hard-to-read place. As long as I show the other stores that I have a tag, they just give me a carwash.”

Me: “They give you a free car wash?”

Customer: “Yeah, I think it’s part of the ‘free carwash for a year’ deal.”

Me: *calls my shift leader* “Have you heard of ‘free carwash for a year’ deal?”

Shift Leader: “No.”

Customer: “I can show you the tag on my car and that it’s in a bad place.”

(I oblige, though I’m not willing to give a free carwash simply because her tag is in a bad place, which is her fault, not ours, and I really doubt any store is giving ‘free carwashes for a year,’ but if they are, the customer is welcome to keep getting her free washes there.)

Customer: “See, it’s in a bad place. Like I said, the other store always gives me a carwash when I show them that this is in a bad place that the sensor can’t read.”

(Sure enough, the tag is in a hard-to-sense area, but again, that’s not my problem. It’s not even where were trained to place them, so I’m not sympathetic.)

Me: “I see that, but just because it’s in a bad place it doesn’t require me to give you a free code. That other store may give you free carwashes as part of a ‘free carwash for a year’ deal, but I can’t give you a free one. You’ll have to pay for it.”

Customer: *defeated, buys our cheapest carwash*

(The girl was really sweet through her attempted scam. I later realized that she was indeed trying to scam us. We get a lot of issues with customers trying to get their money back or free carwashes, but none that have claimed that their poorly-placed tag has actually gotten them free washes.)

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He Keeps Calling Because He’s Loan-ly

, , , | Working | October 15, 2019

(I’ve been getting calls from an unknown number, and since I’m always at work when they call, they leave a voicemail. The voicemail is aggressive but vague, saying I owe thousands in loans that needs to be paid back at once. They never say who they’re calling for, what company they’re with, or a number to call back with. Finally, I’m off for a day when they call.)

Me: “Hello?”

Scammer: “Hi, this is a final notice on your debt. If you cannot pay, in full, we will be taking legal action.”

Me: “Okay, is this before or after I sue you for harassment?”

Scammer: “Excuse me?”

Me: “First, you’ve called me almost every day for months. You’ve threatened me for payment on loans I have never made. Either you have the wrong person, or this is a scam.”

Scammer: “No, our records show you owe thousands to [Credit Card Company].”

Me: “Okay, then you have a wrong number. I don’t have a credit card.”

Scammer: “You owe thousands! You have to pay!”

Me: “Okay, what’s my name then? Even just a first name.”

Scammer: “It’s Mary.”

(My name is not even remotely close to Mary.)

Me: “Wrong. I want the name of your company.”

Scammer: “We’re with [Credit Card Company].”

Me: “You are not. You said you were collecting on a loan. You are either a fraud company or have been given an incorrect number.”

Scammer: “F*** you! I’m going to show up at your house and kill you!”

Me: “And now you’re threatening me with violence. Goodbye.”

(I hang up. The next day, I get a call from an 800 number, but a different voicemail is left.)

Voicemail: “This is [Caller] at [Credit Card Company]. I’ve reviewed a call you had with a collector and would like to extend a sincere apology. We have removed your number from our system. If you would ever like to open an account with us, I can see what offer I can make for you, though I understand if this interaction prevents you from working with us. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

(I suddenly stopped getting calls.)

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God Bless The Camera Age

, , , , , , | Working | October 14, 2019

(As a Christmas present, my girlfriend buys me a wicker swivel rocker to replace an old, rickety chair in my den. For those who have never had a swivel rocker, the box is large enough to use as an office desk, and it contains three pieces: the chair’s wicker frame, the cushions that are placed on said frame, and the base that stands it up and allows swiveling and rocking. The Saturday after we get it, we attempt to put it together correctly. “Correctly” means rotating the swivel mechanism in the base so the slot for the bolt is lined up with the hole in the base proper we’re meant to feed the bolts through. However, this mechanism will not swivel. At all. At first, we assume we just have a bad grip on it, so we attempt to put the chair together by reaching into the top of the base. Though cramped, we are able to do it, but not correctly. The chair is very clearly crooked. This is where the alarm bells are raised. It could be that improper assembly resulted in a crooked chair, or it could mean the swivel mechanism itself is crooked and won’t spin because the base is interfering with it. I choose to take a seat and test this theory. The swivel rocker at my parents’ turns on the slightest pressure in my feet. Attempting to turn in this one, however, gets me nothing. Even as I dig in my heels and lean to different sides — an attempt to see if I could dislodge the swivel mechanism — the only thing I manage to do is slide the chair across the floor. The swivel base definitely doesn’t work. Armed with that knowledge, I call the company. After getting through to a human — I assume a sales rep, because a proper title is never given — the following conversation occurs:)

Me: “I recently acquired one of your swivel rockers, but it doesn’t swivel, so I’d like to return it and get a full refund.”

Sales Rep: “I’m sorry to hear that. Can I interest you in a 70% discount?”

Me: “No. The chair doesn’t swivel. It’s defective. I want to return it.”

Sales Rep: “Okay, I’m sorry you’re unhappy. We can refund that just as soon as we get the product back.”

Me: “So, will you be sending a truck?”

Sales Rep: “No. We don’t have any trucks of our own. We outsource deliveries to [Delivery Company]. You’ll have to drive the product to one of our stores for your refund.”

Me: “And how exactly do you propose I put this gigantic box into my car?”

Sales Rep: “Oh, those are kind of big, aren’t they? Well, why don’t you rent a moving truck?”

Me: “Will [Company] be paying for the truck rental?”

Sales Rep: “Why would we pay for your rental truck?”

Me: “Because you’re the ones who won’t send a truck to pick up your defective merchandise.”

Sales Rep: “Sir, I told you we outsource to [Delivery Company]. Their services aren’t free.”

Me: “Neither is truck rental.”

Sales Rep: “Sir, there… Sir, my supervisor is requesting I transfer the call. Please hold.”

(I don’t even hear one note of the hold music.)

Supervisor: “Mr. [Girlfriend’s Last Name], I’ve reviewed the call. We’ll be calling [Delivery Company] to set up an appointment for a pickup. They’ll call you to confirm the date. Will there be anything else?”

(I assure him we’re done and end the call. It should end there, but sadly, fate is never so kind. One day, I come home and find this message waiting for me on my voicemail.)

Voicemail: “Hi, this is [Delivery Company] calling to confirm a pickup scheduled for [Tomorrow]. Please be home on this date so we can pick up your package. Have a nice day.”

(Did you notice there was no time parameter stating when I can expect them tomorrow? So, as far as I can tell, I have about a six-hour warning that the company is coming tomorrow at any point between midnight and midnight the following day. Good thing I wasn’t scheduled to work tomorrow, anyway. So, I spend the day doing chores around my house and finding ways to occupy my time when those are done. The doorbell rings exactly zero times, there is exactly one knock on my front door — which come when the newspaper hits it — exactly one time my creaky gate swings up — the mail carrier — and no notice stating the driver has even been to my property. The following day, I drive down to a company depot to resolve this. The response:)

Customer Service: “Our driver says he rang your bell and knocked on your door, but there was no answer.”

Me: “And what time was that?”

Customer Service: “What?”

Me: “What time did the driver arrive at my house?”

Customer Service: “The file doesn’t say.”

Me: “Do you track your drivers’ vehicles?”

Customer Service: “Yes.”

Me: “Then why not look up when the GPS puts him at my address?”

Customer Service: “We’re not allowed to share the locations of our vehicles without a court order.”

Me: “So, how am I supposed to believe the driver ever actually came to my address yesterday?”

(Predictably, a manager pounces on that moment.)

Manager: “Sir, our driver arrived. It’s not our responsibility to ensure you’re home.”

Me: “All I want to know is the time of the arrival.”

Manager: “4:25 pm.”

Me: “You’re sure it was at my place at 4:25 pm?”

Manager: “Yes! 4:25 pm on the dot at [My Address], according to our computer.”

(I hold up my phone.)

Me: “So, fun little fact: I have a few surveillance cameras on my property. One of them monitors the front door. The feed is recorded on a cloud server I access on any device, such as my phone. So, let’s watch 4:15 to 4:45 yesterday.”

(As you can guess, the only thing my camera sees is a few people walking on the sidewalk. There’s not even a truck present.)

Me: “I didn’t see a truck, did you?”

Manager: “What’s your address again?”

Me: “The one you called out earlier.”

Manager: “Could you just confirm it?”

Me: “What address do you have on file?”

Manager: “[My Address].”

Me: “That’s me. So why was there no truck?”

Manager: *pause* “Any chance you’ll be home tomorrow?”

Me: “What time tomorrow?”

(Miraculously, I got a mere two-hour block of time, the driver actually showed up within that time, and the folks who made the chair gave my girlfriend a full refund. Far more aggravation than there should have been, but at least it worked out.)

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