The Epic Of Gary And Olga

, , , , , , , | Working | July 6, 2018

(I work for a small tech company as an admin and HR assistant. My mom also happens to work for the company, as the HR manager. Once a year, we hold yearly all-hands company meetings in a hotel in some nice location. This year’s meeting takes place in Las Vegas. We have a new employee, Olga, a woman in her mid-twenties who joined the company only a few weeks ago from a branch in Eastern Europe. All names are fake, fake, fake. The meeting goes well, Olga does her own short presentation very professionally, and everyone goes their own way in the evening. I have a quiet night in. The next morning around nine am, I’m going to breakfast with my parents.)

Mom: “Did you hear what happened?”

Me: “No, what?”

Mom: “I got an email a couple of hours ago from [Another employee], saying that Olga had an accident and had to be taken to a hospital.”

Me: “Oh, no! What happened?”

Mom: “I wasn’t given much detail, but the email said that she fell and hit her head early this morning. She was taken to an ER with a head injury, was admitted, and was there for hours. She seems to have amnesia.”

Me: “Oh, my God! How did that happen?”

Mom: “I’m not sure; they didn’t give any more detail than that.”

Me: *realizes something* “Wait a second. ‘Early this morning’? That sounds like she went to some bar last night, got completely drunk and then fell because of that. ‘Early this morning’ probably means one or two am.”

Mom: “No! No way… Really? You think that’s what happened?”

Me: “Yeah, totally.”

Mom: “No. I mean, I’m sure they’d have said something if that was the case. Anyway, Olga seems like such a sensible girl; I’m sure she’s not the type to do that.”

Me: “Okay, sure. Whatever.”

(I really don’t like to make terrible assumptions about people, but I am just going by logic. If, at nine am, Mom got this email a couple hours ago, and it says that Olga’s already been in hospital for several hours at this point, and the accident happened “early this morning,” that means it was barely after midnight. And otherwise, in all likelihood, how could a young woman have “fallen” and gotten a head injury shortly after midnight, on a Friday night, in Las Vegas? Especially without anybody claiming they were mugged or anything like that. The odds of it being anything else but extreme drunkenness are just not high. Some time later:)

Mom: “Olga’s out of the hospital; thankfully the amnesia was only temporary and she seems fine now. The hospital bill was quite high, though, and since she’s a new employee and only recently came to the US, of course she had no insurance yet, so our company had to pay all of her medical bills. But everyone swore to me and [Company CEO] that the accident had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. Poor Gary, though – he ended up having to accompany her to the hospital and sit there with her all night.”

(“Poor Gary” is one of our long-time and highest-salaried employees, a quite good-looking guy in his early to mid-thirties.)

Mom: “Yes, poor Gary; he’s so harassed. You know how Olga has managed to recently get herself transferred to our lucrative project in the Silicon Valley? Meanwhile, she’s living in San Francisco – where Gary also lives – and she’s making him teach her how to live there, drive her around, and help her with absolutely everything since there’s no one else from the company living there. Poor Gary’s already so busy with work, and Olga’s bothering him with all sorts of nonsense and making him essentially take care of her. I hope he’s not feeling too overburdened.”

(Then, at next year’s all-hands company meeting.)

Mom: “Do you know what I learned about Olga? They swore up and down to me last year that her injury had nothing to do with drinking, but I found out recently from other employees that they were lying their pants off! They went to some Vegas bar late at night, she got severely drunk, she was dancing, and she managed to fall and hit her head on some table or bar end! The company paid so much money for her hospital bills for that! Ugh! If I tell [Company CEO] about this he’ll be spitting mad! Can you believe this?”

Me: *barely managing to keep my face straight* “Really. I’m shocked.”

Mom: “Poor Gary, having to deal with her and all her nonsense…”

(Less than a year later, Poor Gary quit without notice, in the middle of managing an extremely important project for our company, to take a very lucrative management job with a huge Silicon Valley company. Less than a month after that, Olga also quit without notice, abandoning the project on which she was the lead programmer, to take a programmer job with a different Silicon Valley tech giant. This seriously messed up the projects for our company, and our CEO was absolutely furious that they abandoned ship in this way after being treated well, getting high salaries, having Olga’s medical bills paid with no question, and setting her up on a project where the client was paying for nearly all the cost of her food AND her San Fran apartment’s rent, etc. Not too long after this, I did an Internet search on them out of curiosity, and one of the very first pages that popped up was Olga’s and Poor Gary’s upcoming wedding announcement site, gushing at length and in very saccharine terms about how happy and in love they were and had been ever since they met when Olga first moved to San Fran. “Poor Gary,” indeed. Terribly harassed, I’m sure.)

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Raising A Spicy Little One

, , , , , , , | Right | July 5, 2018

(I am running a sample table at a store, serving an artichoke dip. A young girl around 12 and her mother walk up to my stand.)

Me: “Hello! Would you like to try some artichoke dip? We are serving it with some really good crackers today.”

Young Girl: “Is it hot?”

Me: “Oh, no, we serve this cold.”

Young Girl: *rolling her eyes* “I mean is it hot, hot. Like spicy.”

Me: “No, it’s not. It’s just cream cheese, artichoke hearts, and some different seasonings.” *there is really nothing even remotely spicy in any of the ingredients*

Young Girl: *grabs a sample, barely licks it with the end of her tongue, screams, and throws the sample on the floor* “That is so hot! You liar! Liar!”

Mother: “How dare you hurt my baby?! I’m going to report you! You should have a sign that warns people when food is spicy!”

Me: “Sorry, but it’s really just cream cheese and artichokes. We do give warnings when something has anything spicy in it.”

Mother: “Are you calling my daughter a liar?”

Random Customer: “I am. Your daughter is a brat. Stop giving this lady a hard time and control your kid. This is not remotely spicy. Has she never eaten food before or something?”

Mother: “How dare you?! I’m going to report you, too!”

Random Customer: “You want to report a fellow customer? Let me know how that works out for you. I’ll be standing here ready to tell the manager exactly what really happened if you try to report this lady.”

(The mother took her daughter and stormed away, throwing another sample on the ground in the process. To my knowledge, she never reported me.)

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Dissuaded With Surgical Precision

, , , , | Working | July 5, 2018

(I work in the office of a veterinary hospital. We get a lot of spam calls of random people trying to sell us stuff. Also, because we’re a vet clinic, I’m in the habit of letting them know the owner/vet has no time to talk to these spam calls because she is with clients or in surgery; sometimes I say this even if she isn’t. Usually, they at least understand this, because we’re a business and it’s what we do. One day I get a caller who apparently doesn’t catch what type of business we are.)

Me: *answering phone* “[My Name], vet hospital. How can I help you?”

Caller: “I need to speak to the owner, please.”

Me: “She’s in surgery right now; can I take a message?”

Caller: *pauses* “Oh! Oh, dear. Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I’ll call back another time; I hope she’s okay!” *hangs up*

(Best way to get rid of a spammer!)

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A Pie In The Sky Plan For A Refund

, , , , , | Right | July 4, 2018

(I am the cashier in this situation. An older lady, probably about 60 or so, comes to my register when I am about to block it off and go to lunch. Since she only has one item, I let her come through my line, and put up the chain at the end of my lane. We are well-known for our fresh-made pies in the bakery, and this customer has a pie box with an obviously empty and cleaned pie tin inside.)

Me: “What can I help you with, ma’am?”

Customer: “I bought one of your apple pies here last week for a dinner party and it was horrible! You must’ve used spoiled apples or something!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Is the pie expired?”

(I check the tag and find that its expiration date is three weeks away.)

Customer: “Yes, don’t you see? It’s expired, and I want my money back, and a free replacement.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am, but the pie isn’t expired.”

Customer: “Well, it must have been; it was terrible!”

Me: “Where is the rest of the pie?”

(Normally, customers bring in their half-eaten food to show us the problem.)

Customer: “Oh, my husband and I ate it.”

Me: “The whole pie?”

Customer: “Yes. I couldn’t let the pie go to waste, could I?”

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Scams From Beyond The Grave

, , | Legal | July 4, 2018

(We just got back to my grandfather’s house from burying my grandmother. The phone rings and I answer. A man is on the other end, and in my emotional exhaustion I don’t understand, so I ask him to repeat. He is calling to notify us that we won several thousand dollars. Since it’s not my house, I ask for the exact winner, even though I suspect a scam.)

Caller: “Oh, [Grandmother] won.”

(Now I know it’s a scam, and even though I’m annoyed I try to stay polite.)

Me: “Sir, this is not funny. We just finished burying her; she died a week ago. Please don’t call again.”

Caller: “What do you mean?”

Me: “She is dead. I find this rude and disrespectful.”

Caller: “Are you her daughter?”

Me: “No, her granddaughter, and please do not call here again.”

Caller “Would you like her winnings? I just need your name.”

(Now I’m getting mad.)

Me: “Oh, really? How did she win?”

Caller: “By paying her bills on time and shopping at her favourite shops—”

(I start laughing.)

Caller: “What is so funny?”

Me: “She has been in a home for five years with dementia and hasn’t known who I am for over three years. How the h*** did she go shopping?!”

(The man hangs up on me. Thinking that is the end I try not to alert my grandfather and the rest of the family so they don’t get upset. About ten minutes later the phone rings again and I grab the phone. Sadly my grandfather hears it ring this time and also comes over.)

Caller: “Do you know who this is?”

Me: “The man I spoke to about ten minutes ago.”

Caller: “Are you ready to accept your money now?”

Grandfather: “Who is it?”

Me: “Sir, as I told you this is rude and disrespectful. This is a scam; please leave us alone.”

Grandfather: “Who is it?”

Caller: “Would the man I hear be interested?”

(Now I don’t care.)

Me: “Hold on. I’ll ask.”

(I do not cover the mouthpiece so he can hear:)

Me: “The man on the line says Grandma won several thousand dollars; I told him of her death and is now offering the money to anyone who wants it.”

Grandfather: *grabs the phone* “How dare you?! She is dead! This is a scam! Never call back again!”

(His voice was shaking with anger as he slammed the phone down. I honestly would not have been angry if, when I told him of her death, he said sorry and left it at that, but him trying to continue the scam has caused me to lose faith in humanity.)

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