Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 10

, , , , , , | Working | January 29, 2018

(A colleague buys a new car, notifies his insurance company, and asks for a cover letter ASAP. Time goes by, no cover letter, so he phones them.)

Representative: “So sorry, sir. We’ll send it out straight away.”

(As you can probably guess, no letter. This happens three more times. On the fourth call, the representative decides to try a new approach.)

Representative: “I’m sorry, sir. The letter was about to be sent, but we had a computer error.”

Colleague: “What sort of error?”

Representative: “Well, sir, it’s very technical. I doubt you’d understand.”

Colleague: “Can you see my details on your screen?”

Representative: “Yes, sir.”

Colleague: “Does it say my employer?”

Representative: “Yes, sir. IBM UK, Ltd.”

Colleague: “Does it give my job title?”

Representative: “Yes, sir. Uh… senior systems programmer.”

Colleague: “So, tell me about this computer error.”

Representative: “Sir, being completely frank now, we screwed up. I’ll make sure it goes out today.”

(Two days later, he finally got the insurance cover note.)

Related:
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 9
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 8
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 7

Not Tipped To Be A Good Place To Work

, , , , , , , | Working | January 29, 2018

I worked for a coffee shop chain and had just transferred to a new store after moving. The way the company did our tips was to collect them for the week, count how much we had received, and find an hourly tip rate based on the number of hours worked that week. Then, people were tipped out based on how many hours they had worked during the week. Tips only went to hourly employees, and we weren’t supposed to discuss tips with management. We didn’t know how much came in in tips, or how much the hourly tip rate was. We didn’t keep a record of the tips from week to week. Once everyone had picked up their tips, the tip sheet was tossed.

At my old store we had three people who were trained on how to deal with tips and would rotate doing so. I was one of these people. When I transferred to my new store, I found out that only one person did tips. I found that a bit odd, and when I inquired as to why, I was told they hadn’t had time to train anyone else. So, I let my store manager know that I knew how and would be happy help with tips here.

After my first week at the store when I got my tips, I was a bit sad to see that I only got $1.32 per hour; my old store tips had been about $2.50 per hour. I wasn’t too surprised, though; my first store had been in a more affluent area and this was more rural. I had also come from a stand-alone store, and this was a drive-through, which meant we had a larger staff and that people would sometimes steal our tip box.

The next week, I got my tips again, and again they were $1.32 per hour. I found this very strange as we didn’t often get the exact same hourly rate. My first store we had as much as a 75-cent swing based on time of year, hours worked, and other factors. The third week, the tip rate was once again exactly $1.32 per hour.

The fourth week, my manager actually took me up on my offer, and I got to do tips. When I was finished doing tips, they were $2.14 per hour. The following week, the first person did it again, and tips were $1.32 per hour. The following week, I did tips, and they were $2.20 per hour. After this I went to my manager.

I told him that I thought something fishy was going on, that I had never seen a tip rate be the exact same week after week, and that when I did tips they were at least 80 cents higher and they fluctuated like they were supposed to. He told me that he would look into it.

A couple days later, the assistant manager came to me and told me that they had decided that my personality didn’t match the store’s atmosphere and that they had decided to transfer me to the other store in town. At that time, nothing happened to the other person who was doing tips. The other employees had now seen that something was going on with their tips, but there was no paper trail or any way to prove how much they should have gotten.

I was actually glad to be out of that store; it wasn’t a great working environment. After I left, they did change the way they did tips, and now two people had to count the money and figure out the tip rate, which was around $2.25 per hour with a normal fluctuation. A year later, the assistant manager and the other person who did tips were both fired for stealing from the company.

Can’t Help Those Who Won’t Help Themselves

, , , , | Right | January 29, 2018

(I work in an arcade.)

Coworker: “Uh, [My Name], we need you for customer service.”

Me: *walks up to customer* “Hi! How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I just want to say that I am very upset right now. I had to stand in line for 15 minutes to get my tickets. I counted, and you had seven other employees behind the counter doing nothing.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, we only have our one register, and one person working at a time. Also, I don’t have seven employees working. We just had this one girl back here, since I had the other two employees with me.”

Customer: “You should not try to argue with a customer! There were seven people with green shirts back there doing nothing. I wasn’t this mad until I spoke with you!”

Me: “Okay, well, if there’s nothing else—”

Customer: “I just wanted to explain that I was angry about the line, and you’re making excuses. If I hit you in the arm, you wouldn’t care about my excuses!”

Me: *refraining from laughter* “Yes, you are correct. I was just trying to explain how the policies work with who takes tickets.”

Customer: “YOU ARE NOT HELPING ME!”

Me: “My name is [My Name], and here is my general manager’s card. I’m sorry I cannot help you, or help that we have a line.”

Capitalism: The Charity Loophole

, , , , , | Right | January 28, 2018

(I work in the outlet store for a very popular clothing brand. We have just started a donation drive for a local charity, and as it is the first time we’ve ever done this, we are still working through some of the issues with it. The way we are raising money is by offering a ten-dollar discount whenever a customer makes a donation of any amount. We have one couple on the first day of donations who realizes that if they buy a ten dollar shirt and donate a dollar it will essentially only cost them a dollar. After realizing, this they come back several times, all to different cashiers, before we catch on. For this reason, we have decided to limit the number of discounts to two per person. The following exchange takes place the next day.)

Coworker: *over walkie* “Hey, I think the same couple who bought all those shirts yesterday is in here again.”

Manager: “Really? Are you sure?”

Coworker: “Yeah. They’re literally wearing the exact same outfits as yesterday. And they brought friends this time.”

Manager: “Okay. Just keep an eye out when they come up to the register, and don’t let them do more than two transactions.”

(About half an hour later, they end up at my register with arms full of clothing.)

Customer #1: “Hi. I’d like to ring all of these items up separately and put a donation on each.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, but we are actually only allowed to let each person do two transactions a piece.”

Customer #1: “Really? I was in here yesterday and I was able to do more than that.”

Me: “Yes. Unfortunately, we had too many people abusing our donation system, and we are no longer allowed to split transactions in order to add the discounts.”

(The group of customers then spends several minutes trying to convince me otherwise but eventually leaves to regroup. When they come back, all four of them line up separately with two items a piece, and I end up ringing them out again. Although they still continue to argue with me about the two-transaction rule, they eventually pay for their purchases and leave. About two hours later, the two women from the group return, giggling, thinking we won’t remember them. They eventually end up back in line, and I time it out so that they end up with me as their cashier again.)

Customer #2: *as I begin ringing all of their items together* “Oh, no. I want you to ring up each item separately, and add a dollar donation to each.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you’ve already used your two donation discounts for the day.”

Customer #2: *dumbfounded that I actually remembered them* “Oh. I wasn’t aware that was how it worked. I don’t want any of it, then.”

A Back-Breaking Need For Attention

, , , , , , , | Related | January 28, 2018

(My mother-in-law has always been an attention-seeker, to the point that she has let her health fail, and she has intentionally fallen over or injured herself just to get people to notice her. We mostly ignore it, because we have gotten used to her antics. We have gathered up for Christmas to swap presents. At first, we were going to gather at my brother-in-law’s house, but since my mother-in-law threw such a fit, it got switched to her tiny house. As a result, there are ten of us crammed in this small living room with only a few seats, while the rest of us stand. My brother-in-law opens a present from his wife, which turns out to be a sonogram picture. Everyone jumps in on the hugs and congratulations immediately, except for my mother-in-law, who I notice slides out of her chair, braces herself on the floor, and then flops to her back.)

Mother-In-Law: *screaming* “I fell! I fell out of my chair! Oh, my back, it hurts!”

(Everyone immediately rushes to help her, except for my husband and me. He also noticed her intentionally slide onto the ground. He goes to check on her back.)

Husband: *barely touching her back* “Does it hurt here?”

Mother-In-Law: “Yes! Ow, yes! It does!”

Husband: “Here?”

Mother-In-Law: “Yes, it hurts all over! I need you to call me an ambulance.”

Husband: *not even touching her now* “What about here?”

Mother-In-Law: “Ow, yes! Stop doing that; it hurts.”

Husband: “I didn’t even touch you that time, Mom.”

(She claimed that it hurt so bad, she couldn’t tell whether he touched her or not. Either way, people clued in on what she did and had very little sympathy for her antics.)